Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike/Buffy, Clem, Dawn, OC, Ensemble
Word Count: 2,815
Date Written: 18 October 2017
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters within belong to Whedon, not the enemy, and are used without permission. The rest is mine.
Spike grumbles as he pauses Passions and makes his way toward his door. Of course, the one night of the week he decides to stay in is the very night that somebody comes rapping on his crypt door. It isn’t Buffy or Dawn. He knows that, because the girls never knock. Red and Giles also rarely bother with knocking, and Xander never comes out here to visit him now that he’s got Anya in his life. Regardless of whoever might be on the other side of his door, Spike knows he can handle whatever the situation is, so he rips the door open with a snarl. “Yeah?”
He almost instantly regrets his temper when he sees Clem, trembling from head to foot so mightily that his ears look like they’re about to come off and fly up to the night sky without the big guy. Spike barely glances at his shaking hands, which are holding some kind of tiny, black bundle. “Get in here,” he growls and promptly snatches Clem and the little, black thing inside his crypt.
He’s not fast enough, however, because behind Clem is a whole line of Demons and Vampires snarling, growling, and shouting in protest. “Oh, bollocks!” Spike growls. Turning swiftly on Clem, he demands, “What have you done?!”
“I couldn’t let ‘em eat ‘im!” A big tear rolls down the Demon’s face. “I just couldn’t, Spike! I know we’ve talked about this and it’s supposed to be okay and all that, but I couldn’t let ‘em eat this one!”
“What are you blathering about?!” Spike stops as Clem’s hands open a little wider and the little, black thing he’s clutching lifts its tiny head, turns its neck all the way around, and looks up at Spike. The kitten mews. It’s got red eyes and the most adorable face Spike’s ever seen. The little guy yawns, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth, and shifts again.
This time, it’s Spike’s mouth that opens wordlessly as small, black, batlike wings unfurl from the kitten’s furry body. They flap a couple of times. Then he begins to preen them and rearrange them, only stopping when somebody yells just outside Spike’s crypt. Quickly, he tucks his wings back around him and burrows back into Clem’s hands, which, in turn, close protectively around him.
“I’ve got this.” Spike turns around and exits his crypt. He smashes his fist into the first Demon’s face so hard that he chips a horn and knocks the beast out. He flips up into the air, kicking the next one in the stomach and face and again rendering him unconscious. Landing on top of his crypt, he yells out at the whole, bloody lot, “HE’S UNDER MY PROTECTION NOW! ANYBODY WHO TRIES TO GET INTO MY CRYPT IS MINE!” He snarls for emphasis.
The fiends stop running and look up at him. Some glower. Some grumble. A few turn away. “You can have the Demon,” calls one, “but the kitten’s mine! I won him fair and square!”
“They’re both mine now!” Spike counters. “Ol’ Clem owed me, and he just brought me something to make us even! He might not own the kitten, but Hell, none of you lot play with what’s fairly yours! You steal your kittens to start with!” And he’s been meaning to make a stand about the kitten poker games a long time before now. He’d promised Buffy and Dawn he wouldn’t play with kittens any more, but he hadn’t counted on how cute Miss Kitty Fantastico would prove to be when the Witches had brought her to the growing Summers household.
“If that’s not good enough for you,” Spike growls, seeing that several of the other Demons have started to turn away but the one who claims he won the winged kitten is still standing his ground, “we can fight for him.” Spike leaps over several heads and lands directly in front of the lesser Demon. He smirks up at him. “I could use a chuckle any way, what with tonight being that old boring holiday and all -- “
The Demon makes a jab at him. Spike easily avoids it, catches his swinging hand, and crushes its bones instead. The Demon screams in pain as Spike, still crushing his hand, drives him to his pointy knees. “Don’t play with the big boys,” he hisses in his face, “or you’ll bound to get burned -- “
He screams suddenly as a red hot pain lashes into his back. The other Demons and Vampires alike flee as Spike tears at his own back, trying to see what’s hit him. He rips out the arrow and growls when he sees the tip is still on fire. He throws the arrow from him, tears off his jacket, and beats the flames out.
“Spike!” Clem hisses from behind him in the doorway. “Spike, run! They’re after the kitten too! It’s some kind of magical order, says the kitten’s meant to fulfill a prophecy!”
“Fulfill this!” Spike snarls and, presuming that his first attacker is the one that got the lucky strike in and put the burn marks on his favorite leather jacket, promptly rips off the monk’s head. He just as swiftly takes out two more, but the graveyard is quickly filling with more of the bastards. Whereas there had been only twenty to thirty of the other party who had dared to interrupt his marathon, the Order seems to have hundreds of monks, and they’re all coming after that one, special kitten!
Spike snarls. Leaping into the air, he begins a series of roundhouse kicks at the monk’s heads. He rapidly renders six more of them unconscious. Landing, he grabs the last two that are near him, knocks their heads together, and drops them. Then he runs back where Clem and the kitten are still, the kitten now mewing in protest, and slams his crypt door behind him. He rolls a huge stone he keeps inside the crypt against the door, then grabs Clem’s shoulder and swings him and the kitten around. “GO!” he snarls just as the monks lash against his door.
“Where? I didn’t know you had a back exit -- “
“I’m not getting caught in here again!” Spike snarls. He runs, leading the way and glancing at his telly as he does so. He spends one, fleeting second being thankful for his stolen DVR before giving his full attention over to the new mission.
His crypt gives way to a series of tunnels that open out into the streets of Sunnydale. Clem’s breathing hard as they hit the surface. Pausing for the first time, Spike looks back at him. “You gonna be okay?”
Clem nods his head, and again his ears bop up and down. Spike hides a grin. Dawnie’s right: they do kind of look like a dog’s ears. Clem’s hands tremble with the kitten inside of them. The kitten looks up at Spike, fixes him with those big, red eyes, and mews plaintively again. “Here. Let me take the little bugger.”
Spike reaches out and takes the kitten just as Clem collapses forward, his hands on his knees. He’s outright panting now, and Spike realizes that the run has almost been too much for the big guy. He also realizes that the monks are quickly tearing through the tunnels. “Go,” he says, jerking his head toward a shadowy alley.
“But the kitten -- “
“I’ve got the kitten,” Spike counters. “He’s gonna be fine. You go save your own hide and keep quiet in that alley way. Leave the rest to me.”
Clem finally nods his admission and staggers off to the alley. Spike runs to the end of the street and waits for the first monks to come to the surface. As soon as they’re within his sight, he holds the tiny, winged kitten high above his head and calls out, “IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT? YOU HAVE TO CATCH ME FIRST!” It may be a childish taunt, but it works: The monks follow him swiftly through Sunnydale’s streets without giving Clem, or even the groups of masked children through which they run, any thought.
Spike makes a speedy beeline for the one house in particular where he knows he’s always welcome. Buffy and Dawn stand on the porch. His Dawnie is all grins in her sexy, little Witch dress. He notes the way her and her sister’s hair seem to sparkle in the fluorescent glow of their porch light and that guests to Dawnie’s big Halloween bash are still coming in. He’s beginning to breathe a little harder by the time he hits the gate.
“Spike!” Dawn thrills. “You came after all!” She’s so happy and glowing that he almost hates to break the news to her.
“Dawnie,” Buffy speaks gravely, seeing the look on Spike’s face, “go inside.”
“Take your partiers,” Buffy orders just a few late arrivals scream and run away from the gate, “and get inside.”
Spike leaps onto the porch with them just as the monks, who are levitating off of the ground, come into view of the house. “Shit,” Buffy mutters at the seemingly countless throng.
Spike places the kitten into Dawn’s hands. “Aw!” she cries, looking at the kitten, but then she notices the wings and looks back up at Spike. “What’s going on?” she asks urgently, but he shakes his head.
“I’ll explain everything later,” he promises. “Right now, take this little guy inside and find Red. She’ll keep you both safe.” He drops the kitten into Dawn’s hands, grabs her shoulders, and shoves her gently but firmly inside the house. He pulls the door shut beside her and looks apologetically at Buffy. “Sorry to be the party pooper, luv,” he apologizes, “but I tried to tell you Halloween isn’t a good night for parties.”
“I know,” Buffy says as the monks begin to fill her yard, “but Dawnie had her heart set on it. I’ve tried so hard ever since my sixteenth birthday to live a normal life, and I’m the Slayer. You’d think my kid sister would at least be able to enjoy a normal life herself.”
“Your kid sister who was created from a cosmic key?” Spike counters with a grin.
Buffy rolls her eyes. “Shut up,” she tells him, but with a smile.
Her smile is contagious, and Spike grins in answer. Nodding at the monks who are now starting up the steps, he explained, “They were a bit much for me to deal with on my own.”
“No kidding,” Buffy returns. “Where the Hell do they end?”
He shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out together.”
Her grin widens. “Yup,” she agrees. “On three?”
“Three,” he snarls, and together, they leap into action. Even as they fight, he keeps an eye on her. She seems almost to glow tonight, and she definitely chose an appropriate costume. She’s wearing some kind of brown leather skirt and big, shining bracelets on her arms. He guesses she’s supposed to be some kind of Amazon, but she is, in truth, so much more -- and so much more than just the Slayer. She’s the woman he loves, and he knows, together, they can not only defeat all these bloody monks but take down any odds. Together, they can win against anything. He might be missing Passions, but he’d much rather spend any night fighting beside her.
A half later proves Spike right as the last of the monks finally flee. “Aw.” Landing beside him after another flying roundhouse kick, Buffy pouts. “No more?”
“KEEP THE BEAST!” the last monk cries just before he vanishes from the street.
Cheers go up from the porch. Buffy and Spike look at it in surprise only to find the porch crowded with costumed teenagers from Dawn’s class. Dawn herself stands in the center, flanked by Willow and Tara, who now holds the kitten and is rubbing his little head. They’re all looking right at them.
Spike smirks. “Didn’t know we were putting on a show,” he remarks, wrapping his arm around Buffy’s waist. “But every good show deserves a romantic ending, right?”
She looks up at him, and her big, green eyes seem to shine brighter than all the stars in the night sky. “What do you have in mind?”
“Only this,” he murmurs. Wrapping her in his arms, he presses his lips to hers. His tongue slides smoothly into her sweet mouth, deepening their kiss. Then, before their audience, he dips her and deepens their kiss even more. The kids go wild. He hears a couple even shout, “BEST PARTY EVER!” “BEST SHOW EVER!” He smirks against Buffy’s mouth and doesn’t cease in kissing her until the last of their audience has finally drifted back inside.
Only then does he let her up. She staggers a little and leans against him. “I do need to breathe, you know,” she jests, but she’s smiling.
“Best Halloween ever,” he agrees with the children, his arm still around the woman he loves.
“You wanna stay for the party?” she asks after a while.
“Depends,” he counters. “Am I gonna get to dance with the prettiest girl there?” She blushes. The children left the door open, and he can just hear the faint strains of a new rendition of Spooky. He releases Buffy and makes a sweeping bow before her. “May I have this dance?” he asks, almost humbly.
Buffy is definitely blushing now, but laughing, she curtsies before him. “You may.”
He takes her into his arms and spends the rest of the party dancing with her in the street. It’s only hours later, long after the last of the partiers have left them, that Spike, Buffy, Dawn, Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya gather around the kitten, who’s eating a can of tuna on the table. “What are we gonna do with it?” Anya asks, making a face. “I mean those monks may come back -- “
“They’re not going to come back,” Buffy tells the former Vengeance Demon. She grins. “Spike and I made sure of that.”
“Yeah, but they called him a beast,” Spike says, remembering the last monk’s remark.
Willow shrugs. “He is an animal.”
“And people are likely to call beings whose differences they don’t understand ugly names,” Tara adds quietly.
“We’re keeping him,” Dawn states, “and that’s that.” She reaches out and runs a hand over his furry back. “He’s the best Halloween present I ever received!”
The kitten lifts his tiny head from polishing the can and hiccups. Then he belches, and a spot of flame escapes his tiny mouth. His wings unfurl. They flap a single time, and the flame extinguishes in the air.
“Or that could be the reason why they called him a beast,” Anya observes.
Spike exchanges a glance with Buffy.
“I don’t care,” Dawn counters, gently grasping the kitten and pulling him to her. He begins to purr the moment she starts stroking his fur again. His purr is loud and seems to fill the kitchen. “I’m still keeping him.” She juts out her chin in her most determined look. “I was made by monks,” she whispers softly, raising big, begging eyes to her sister, “and you wouldn’t let them keep me.”
“And they’re not getting him either,” Buffy promises. “It’s also not like we can take him to a shelter.”
“They put more animals down at shelters,” Tara whispers, “than they find homes for.”
“I think he has a home,” Spike counters.
“Yes,” Buffy says, reaching underneath the table and taking Spike’s hand in hers, “he does.” She smiles up at him.
“Am I interrupting something?”
The whole group looks up to see Clem leaning against the door in the kitchen. He’s still breathing hard.
Spike grins and nods his head at Clem. “He was the first one to rescue the kitten,” he tells them earnestly.
“Sit down, big fella,” Xander tells the Demon, pulling out a chair. The chair quakes underneath Clem’s weight. Willow pours him some of what punch remains and hands it to him. Clem finishes the drink in a single sip.
Dawn moves toward the Demon, still stroking the kitten. The kitten looks up at Clem, seems to recognize him, and mews happily. “We’re keeping him,” Dawn says, “but you can visit any time.” She looks up at Buffy again. “Can’t he?”
“Of course,” Buffy agrees, and as their friends are focused on Dawn passing the little, winged kitten to Clem and then the big Demon tenderly stroking the tiny, black guy, she slips away, with Spike’s hand still in hers, to have some private Halloween fun with her own guy before the magical night is over. Happy Halloween, Dawnie, they think together though not saying another word, and letting their bodies do the talking for them instead with entirely different messages meant only for each other, until long into the next day.