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COUSIN ARABELLA by Liilachigh


Chapter 2 Never Ever Tell


When is a date not a date? When you’re going out with Spike to visit his relatives!


When you’re standing clad only in pale peach bra and panties with the whole contents of your closet spread out on the bed in front of you, you are entitled to feel hot and bothered.

Buffy clenched her fists in her hair. This was stupid! She could face demons and vampires. God, she’d died twice. Choosing what to wear for a date - no not a date - for doing Spike a favour! - couldn’t be that difficult, surely?

But they were going to a party with his cousin Arabella and her regurgitating demon husband - the fashion magazines never told you what to wear for that sort of occasion.

The breeze from the open window fanned against her body, bringing with it the faintest smell of smoke and leather.

She didn’t even turn round to check. ‘Spike - I heard you climbing up the trellis ages ago.’

‘Well, Slayer, I’ve just been sitting here admiring the view. Didn’t want to disturb you as you seemed so preoccupied. And, by the way, you’re late! We should have left ages ago.’

She picked up her dressing-gown and pulled it on before she turned round.

Spike sighed heavily. ‘Slayer, I have seen you, on many occasions, stark naked. What’s with the fragile virgin act?’ His voice grew deeper, smoother, like cream poured across brandy ice. ‘We know you’re not.’

He was sitting on her window sill, looking the picture of indolent comfort.

Buffy ignored what he was saying, just as she was ignoring the sensations that poured in a torrent across her nervous system every time she saw him.

Sometimes, when she fell into her own bed in the depths of the night, when she couldn’t prevent her mind from repeating endlessly what she and Spike had been doing all evening...she was certain that when Willow had brought her back from the dead, she’d been magiced by some other witch on the way.

Only magic could make her feel like this about Spike.

‘You’re not dressed up,’ she said now, taking in the usual black T shirt and red silk shirt under his duster. He did seem to have black trousers on instead of jeans, but that was the only change she could see - and hey, she wasn’t going to stare at his trousers!

Spike shrugged then grinned. ‘‘Not big with the glamorous clothes, pet. We could go steal me some, if you want. I’ve always fancied a velvet jacket. Giles has one, you know. Green. Old, but came from a shop in Jermyn Street, off Piccadilly. Posh area. I ate one of the guys from Trumpers, the barber shop, there once. I thought it might give me some ideas for my hair. He knows where to shop does your Watcher.’

He raised his scarred eyebrow at her. ‘Fancy putting your arms round me and feeling velvet under your fingertips, luv?’

Buffy could hardly hear him for the roaring of blood in her ears. All she wanted to feel under her fingertips was his bare skin.

He held out his hand and she moved towards him as if hypnotised. Oh God, she knew what he was about to do and she wanted him to, so much.

The dressing-gown suddenly lay in shreds on the floor and she was pulled hard into his embrace as he wrapped his leather coat around them .

His fingers plunged beneath the peach panties and in seconds she was writhing her way to a massive climax. As she spiralled down, she reached for the zip on his trousers, but he pulled away, kissed her swiftly on the lips and said, ‘Tempting though that is, we’re running late, Slayer. Cousin Arabella is expecting us. I’ll wait my turn - give me something to look forward to. Now, get dressed.’

She sighed. Man or vampire, obviously being on time was some sort of a male thing. But why was he so concerned over what his cousin thought?

She was in and out of the shower in minutes. Back in her bedroom, she found him turning over her outfits. He picked up a white, sleeveless dress, patterned with red flowers. ‘This one,’ he said with a smile. ‘Red on white - my favourite combination! But hey, don’t bother with these.’ And he waved a pair of white lacy briefs at her.

‘You’re a pig, Spike,’ she grumbled, but pulled dress over her head, found shoes and a purse that she knew contained a couple of stakes.

She certainly wasn’t going to any demon gathering unarmed, even if they were Spike’s relatives. In fact, that made it even more necessary to take weapons with her!

‘Will I do?’ she said finally.

He looked at her without smiling, then reached out and smoothed back a rebellious lock of hair that had dropped across her cheek. ‘You look gorgeous, Slayer. ’

As they walked downstairs - luckily Dawn was on a sleepover at Janice’s - Buffy said, ‘Arabella, your cousin - is she pretty? What’s she like. Blonde, dark, red-head?’

Spike hesitated a fraction too long before replying. He had the feeling this was one of those questions women ask to which there was no correct answer. He remembered telling Dru once that he thought a girl at a party was pretty and she’d then proceeded to drain her in front of him.

And then another time, when he thought he was being clever by saying he thought a girl they’d met in France was ugly - when she wasn’t - Dru had accused him of being a liar and tortured the girl to death.

‘She’s a hundred and ten years old, Buffy.’

‘You’re older.’

‘So am I pretty?’ Spike slid his hand up her bare leg under her skirt, trying to force her mind away from Arabella.

Buffy shook him off. She was beginning to get irritated. Why wouldn’t he tell her about his cousin? Had he - she reached for her key to lock the front door - had he been in love with her when he was human? He’d told her they were ‘kissing cousins’. How much kissing had gone on in that repressed Victorian England.

Was that the reason he hadn’t killed Arabella, but turned her into a vampire? Had he wanted her to keep him company in his other world?

She felt a blaze of emotion she didn’t recognise for a moment - then to her astonishment realised she was jealous. That was why she’d been so keen to look good this evening, why what she wore had been so important. She was determined to look good when she met this Arabella. She didn’t want to look like some ditzy blonde he‘d picked up at the beach.

‘How ridiculous,’ she muttered. ‘Of course you’re not jealous,’ she told herself firmly. That would be bad and silly. I have no feelings for Spike, so I can’t possibly have any reason to be jealous of some old cousin of his.

‘So why did he pick out this dress?’ she wondered. ‘Is it because I look good in it, or does he know that Arabella is a knock out and it doesn’t matter what I wear because next to her, I’ll look like a dork?’

Buffy was halfway down the path to the road when she stopped dead. Spike was standing beside a long black shiny convertible that screamed money, money and more money. He opened the passenger door and waved at her to get in.

‘What on earth - Spike - whose car is that?’

The vampire stroked the shiny paint with that expression on his face guys had when they stood in car show rooms looking at the latest models. Then when he turned to Buffy, his face changed and he seemed slightly uneasy. ‘Well, it’s ours for tonight, Goldilocks. Now hurry up and get in.’

Buffy stared at him. ‘Spike - are you insane? You’ve stolen it, haven’t you? There is no way I’m riding around in a stolen car! Take it back.’

‘Bloody hell, Slayer. It isn’t stolen. I...I borrowed it. I’ll put it back tomorrow. The guy who owns it is in Mexico for a month. He’ll never even know it’s gone. And I paid for the gas,’ he said, obviously pleased with himself.

Buffy hesitated. She’d never ridden in a car as expensive and luxurious as this before. A feeling of recklessness washed over her. Since Willow had brought her back from the dead, her life had contained no luxuries of any sort. She’d had to watch every cent she spent. Dawn needed new clothes, books and shoes all the time. Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent any money on herself.

She slid inside the car. Her skirt rucked up and she could feel the soft leather pressing against her bare thighs and remembered with a shudder that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

Suddenly she didn’t care. She wanted to ride in this car, next to Spike. To drive off into the night where no would know her, no one could see her, so she could do things, have things done to her.....

Her heart was racing so fast she was sure Spike could hear it. Why did he make her feel like this? Wicked, wanton, a Buffy that no one, friends or family, would recognise.

Was this who she was? A Slayer so hot that she wanted to drag Spike into the car on top of her at this very second, wrap her legs round him and make him beg her to make him come. So it was wicked, but just for once, couldn’t she allow herself a little naughtiness. No one would ever know, except for Spike, of course, and he’d never tell....

‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘But only if you drive very carefully, and don’t speed, and if there’s a single mark on it, you get it repaired before you return it.’

Spike grinned, flung his duster into the back seat, slid behind the wheel and with a blare of sound from the CD player, the long black car hurtled away towards whatever the night might bright them - and Cousin Arabella.

to be continued





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