Summary: A tale of kitten poker, curses that mess with your head, and drinking too much and suffering the consequences.
Setting: set around... oh, um, season four I guess? Maybe five. There's a Xander, a Buffy, a Spike, a Dawn, a Joyce, a Willow and a Tara, and Willy's is still open for business. Spike has the chip and has only recently moved out of Xander's basement, like within the last few weeks.
Spoilers: I got one mini idea from season six (poker stuff, but again no big spoilers). Basically we're spoiler free, hurrah! Anything's out of place, that's just tough. It's my head your tramping around in, so don't eat the yellow snow. Tra la la, lack of sleep is fun! As are the mind-altering psychedelic drugs. Wheeeeee.
Rating:so far PG13. May slip into R by the time I'm finished. In fact you could pretty much count on it. Slashiness, so that means I get to make Spike say "whelp" again. Yay!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I have no money. I am not Joss. Spike is *not* a real person. (And that's just not fair.)
Ooh lookie: this fic won Most Original Title in the Spike Session of the Candy Store Awards!
Ooh lookie again: this fic won the Best Fluff Award at the Linoleum Awards.
Ooh lookie yet again: this fic won the Best Slash Comedy/Fluff award in the 7th round of the Shades of Grey Awards.
And again: this fic won the Best Fluff Award and also came Runner Up in the Best Comedy Award in the 1st round of the Love's Bitch Awards.
And again: this fic won the Crazy Whirligig of Fun Award in the Spring/Summer 2005 round of the White Knight Awards.
And again: this fic won the Best Fluff Award in round 4 of The Inspiration Awards.
Xander has kittens
by
Spurglie
Part One
Pussy cat, pussy cat
Where have you been?
I've been up to London
To visit the queen.
~ Children's nursery rhyme
Xander looked around the table nervously. He felt way, way out of his depth here. How exactly had he got himself into this situation again?
Oh yeah. He lived on the Hellmouth. Hung out with the Slayer. He always got himself into these situations, except usually by this stage of the proceedings someone had come crashing though the door/window/wall/ceiling or sometimes even floor to save him from himself.
This time, however, the gods were not smiling on Xander Harris. That, or they had just decided that being forced into playing poker with a bunch of varied scaly demons in Willy's didn't warrant his being rescued.
Those selectively omnipotent bastards.
Xander immediately apologised to the combined heavenly deities for calling them names, as he knew that with his luck, they would chose that precise moment to start listening to him and put him in an even stickier situation than he was already in.
He was drinking underage.
His friends wouldn't know to come looking for him tonight as he had unwisely not told anyone he was coming here to look for that extra titbit of information about the latest big bad. Therefore, he would probably be dead by sun up, and would have no one to blame but himself.
He was playing demon poker on a weeknight.
And he was winning.
Squirming in his seat he reshuffled his hand for the tenth time, and took another sip of the dubious-looking fiery liquid from the glass in front of him. How many glasses was that now? Eight? Ten? He decided on nine. Nine suspicious glasses of alcohol of uncertain origin. He knew that standing up would probably be a problem now, and running away from any and all attackers would be virtually out of the question. Ever since he had been grabbed around the throat in mid-conversation with Willy and told in no uncertain terms that a fourth was needed for a decent game of poker... Xander has assumed that he was going to die.
So, if he was going to die tonight, he was going to get good and drunk first.
He looked nervously at the pot in front of him. A basket with six wriggling kittens sat in the centre of the table, along with a not insubstantial stack of paper money of varying denominations, and a few assorted pieces of jewellery. Xander had started the game with twelve dollars and a tootsie roll. He now was the proud owner of eight kittens, one hundred and thirty four dollars, a new Rolex, a tacky looking pinky ring and a vintage copy of Playboy.
He also had a case of nervous sweats and three very angry looking demons growling at him intermittently. Xander knew this could all end very badly for him. No matter what he had done, he kept getting dealt incredible hand after amazing hand after downright unbelievable hand. It was just his bad luck to suddenly receive his lifetime's supply of good luck on a night when it would probably get him killed.
'O-Okay,' he said in an unsteady voice, 'I raise you twenny bucks, an'... two kiddens.'
He had initially felt bad at gambling with the kittens, not knowing what the demons could possibly want with them and, truth be told, not really wanting to know. The potential ick-factor in acquiring that knowledge was just too high. However, he had decided about three hands ago that it was him or them. Survival of the fittest, and since the kittens couldn't hold cards to play, Xander swallowed his urge to set the them free, along with another burning shot of 5000% proof liquor and, much to his distress, kept right on winning.
The demon to his left glared at Xander with the one red eye it possessed and screeched loudly in a language Xander knew he could never hope to recognise. Although, he reconsidered, at this point the demon could have been speaking the Queen's own English and Xander was just too far gone to understand it.
With a final bellow of indignation, the demon threw its cards to the table, and folded. It then shoved its chair back from the table, and stormed out of the bar, yelling over its ample shoulder at Willy as it left.
'Yeah, Znarch'ta,' Willy called out after him, 'I know, I'm sorry, but he's a friend of the Slayer's. I can't just let you rip him a new one. You know what she's like. She'd only come after us all to return the favour.' Vaguely waving a dirty cloth in the departing demon's direction, Willy made his way to the back of the bar where the poker game was continuing and collected some of the many empty glasses scattered around Xander on the table. 'You better watch yourself, kid. Demons don't like being beaten by humans.'
'Yeah?' Xander looked up at him blearily. 'Well, iss not like I asst t'play.' He pointed an accusing finger at the remaining two demons. 'They made me. 'Snot my fault if they're pussies (hic!)'
Willy looked in horror at the two furious demons sitting opposite the boy. Unaware of the barman's alarm, Xander continued unabashed ' ...if their pussies all belong to me now.'
Willy's eyes flickered closed for a moment as he breathed a sight of relief. He prayed that the Slayer would never find out just how close her friend had come to being savagely ripped to pieces tonight in his bar. If he was lucky, Willy figured he could get the kid out the door in one piece and hopefully he would manage to stagger a couple of blocks away from here before being savagely ripped to pieces, thus rendering Willy completely unaccountable. Quickly gathering up the rest of the glasses scattered around Xander, Willy left the trio to what would be the last hand of their game.
'Huuumannn,' the larger of the two remaining demons was said to Xander. 'Huuuumannnn!' it had to repeat three more times before finally getting Xander's attention back out of the Playboy he had been flicking through during the lull in the game. One last look at all the beautiful women he would never get to have because he would be dead soon.
'Huh? What? Yes, deeeeemonnn. What's the haps?'
Opening growling with annoyance, the demon snapped its outer row of teeth at the drunken youth. Xander blinked. Then tried to focus. Then blinked again.
'I raised you thirty American dollars and four kittens, huuumannn.'
Xander's too heavy head flopped forward to see the now overflowing kitten basket and the impressive pile of money with his tootsie roll precariously balanced on top. He looked again at his hand. 'Right. I raise... I raise fiddy bucks and...' He peeked under the table where eight tiny pairs of unblinking eyes looked up at him expectantly. Pulling himself upright, he again stifled the pang of guilt at gambling with the little bundles of fluff, and stated as firmly as he could, '... and six kiddens.'
The second demon hissed, and tossed his cards to the table in disgust, unable to match Xander's bet. The first demon remained calmer. The final two players eyed each other warily.
'A hefty wager, huuumannn,' it said thoughtfully, thumbing through its depleted pile of money. Some urgent whispering then took place between the two demons, and eventually a bargain was struck. Xander watched as the second demon gave the first its remaining few dollars and pulled two kittens from the deep pockets in its oversize trench coat.
The demon still in play placed the money, the two kittens and an antique looking silver lighter in the centre of the table. Pausing dramatically for effect, it told him in an authoritative voice, 'I call.'
It laid its cards on the table, and Xander could see that it held three queens.
'Huh,' Xander said, looking down at his own hand with chagrin.
The demon eyed him sharply. 'What is your hand?' it asked impatiently when Xander made no move.
Xander cleared his throat nervously. It still felt a little raw from being manhandled earlier, although the pain was numbed by the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. It was due mostly to this selfsame alcohol that Xander made the decision to lay his cards on the table instead of simply lying and doing the cowardly, sensible thing and folding.
If you're going down, he rationalised, you might as well go down in style.
He laid his cards one by one on the table, lining them up as evenly as he was able with his second pair of hands, which were just as hard to control as the first pair. When his five cards were set side by side on the table, Xander looked up with a watery grin.
'Um, full house?'
For a long moment there was silence in the room, broken only by the rasping sounds of two demons seething with anger and paper crinkling as Xander clumsily stuffed his monetary winnings into his pockets and picked up his lighter, the basket of kittens and the few miscellaneous items on the table.
'You know the bes'way to describe this sit (hic!) uation?' he asked, balancing the kitten basket precariously on one hip.
The two demons looked narrowly at him.
Xander held up one unsteady finger. 'Adjectives.'
With that, he wobbled drunkenly out of the bar, pausing only to throw two twenty dollar bills at Willy at telling him to give the two defeated demons a drink on him. Willy watched him leave, and was impressed to see that the boy only managed to walk into one table on his way towards the exit. Shaking his head, Willy poured out two tankards of Yak's Bile, and brought them to the back table.
'Here ya go boys. These are from the kid.' He set the two drinks down in front of the demons. 'You know,' he said hesitantly, and against his better judgement, 'you shouldn't take it to heart, fellas. The kid had a lucky night, and everybody has to lose sometimes, right? So maybe, and this is just a suggestion, maybe you shouldn't track this one down and kill him just for...' He paused, looking closely at the two demons. 'Heeeey, why are you guys smiling?'
The smaller demon looked up at Willy as innocently as was possible for a Krazcanash demon to look. 'No reason,' it said in a suspiciously calm voice.
Willy eyed them, meeting their suspiciously and raising them a dubious. 'Nah, come on, I know when something's rotten in Denmark.'
The two demons raised what passed for their eyebrows at him.
'Don't look at me like that... I read.' He grabbed a nearby stool and sat down at the table. 'Now come on, spill. Why the not so long faces?'
The larger demon leaned forward conspiratorially. 'The firestarter,' it said.
'The lighter? Yeah, I saw it. Nice looking piece of hardware. Expensive, too. What about it?'
'It is cursed,' the demon confided. 'It can only be passed on to another if they take it from you voluntarily, and without the current owner mentioning it beforehand to the next... victim.' It rolled its eyes. 'Do you really think that huuumannn boychild could have beaten us? We let him win to get rid of that damn-ed thing. It has brought me nothing but trouble.'
'Ooh, I get it,' Willy grinned. 'You guys are good. You had me totally fooled. I thought you were really pissed at losing.'
'We were,' admitted the smaller demon. 'The curse was broken when he accepted the firestarter.' It shrugged. 'We would probably still have killed him for beating us if you had not stepped in.'
'Oh. Well. Right, sorry about that fellas, but I do try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum in here.'
'We understand,' replied the demon magnanimously, waving the trespass away with its claw. 'Business is business. Consider it forgotten.'
Willy nodded his thanks. 'So, uh, this curse... tell me about it. Does it bring bad luck? Suffering to the owner? Turns him into a demon magnet? Makes him a target for possession by dark spirits? Stuff like that?'
'Nothing so mundane. I will freely admit that the curse is a trivial one, but it can bring about deep shame and hardship to the owner.'
'I see,' Willy said, his interest piqued. 'Wanna spell it out for me?'
'It brings your deepest, darkest desire to the surface. Whatever you most desire, you will not rest until you possess it. No matter what that should be.'
'Uh huh, uh huh.' Willy nodded. 'Does it kick in straight away?'
'No. It relies on initial visual stimulation.'
Willy looked at them blankly for a moment. 'Huh?'
The demon sighed. 'When you set eyes on that which you desire most, you cannot rest, cannot sleep, cannot eat until you possess it. No matter what you have to do, no matter how long it takes.'
'Oh, I get it. That could be very nasty, depending, of course on what your deepest, darkest desire is.' Willy stroked his chin thoughtfully as he regarded the larger demon, the one whom he had had seen place the lighter onto the table. 'Um, hope you don't mind me asking, but, ah, what did it make you go after?' Willy suddenly found himself hauled across the table by his lapels, eye to eye with a furious demon.
'I do mind,' it snarled at him, snapping both sets of sharp teeth in anger. 'And if I did not require you to pour me liquid refreshments, I would rip your throat out for even daring to ask!'
'Okay, okay, there's n-no need to get all steamed up about it, I was just asking,' Willy stuttered, breathing a sigh of relief when the demon set him back on his feet. With a final growl, it turned and walked away from the table towards the restrooms, leaving Willy slightly out of breath and straightening his ruined shirt. 'What's his problem? What was so bad about the dumb lighter, anyway?'
'Nothing,' the remaining demon shook its head. 'Just whatever you do... whatever you do, do not mention the huuumannn girlchild Britney Spears in his presence if you value all your functioning body parts.'
'Britney?' Willy asked, confused.
'Trust me,' the demon said sternly, 'you would not believe me if I told you.'
Part Two
Xander awoke the next day with a kitten sleeping on his chest and a dead sock in his mouth.
He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and opened them again.
There was still a kitten sleeping on his chest, but on closer inspection the dead sock turned out to simply be his tongue.
Carefully manipulating the dead sock, he let out an impressive groan.
'What on earth did I do last night?'
He was answered by a tiny mewling sound as a second kitten made its presence known by scampering across his bed and colliding headfirst with his hip. It shook its head to clear it, spun suddenly in midair and pounced on a poor, defenceless loose thread on his blanket.
'Why are there two kittens on my bed?'
The chocolate brown kitten on his chest opened its eyes sleepily as Xander's voice intruded on peaceful kitten dreams. It got to its feet and systematically stretched out each of its legs and let out a body-stretching yawn, before sitting and looking at Xander quizzically, as if to say: If you don't remember how we got here, I'm certainly not going to tell you.
It then gracefully leapt off his chest and went to lie beside the snow white kitten at Xander's hip, promptly curling up into a tiny ball beside it and going back to sleep, the movement of the snowy kitten batting the stray thread with its paws not seeming to bother it in the slightest.
Xander flopped back onto his pillows, racking his brains as to what he had done the previous evening. There had been a demon scare, then some Scooby research. He could remember that much. Then he had gone to Willy's to find out the "word on the street", and apparently had many, many beverages of an alcoholic nature. But how? And with who?
And also... kittens? What the hell was he going to do with two kittens?
What he was sure of was that the late afternoon sun streaming in through the tiny window of his basement was entirely too bright, even behind his closed eyes. He flung an arm over his eyes to block out the light and managed to smack himself on the head with something cold, metallic and heavy around his wrist. Cracking open his eyes and squinting in the offending light, he saw a vaguely familiar watch around his wrist.
'Holy mother of pearl! That's a Rolex! Unidentifiable bruises and a killer headache I can put down as a standard sacrifice to the party gods, but two kittens and a Rolex? What the hell did I do last night?'
Suddenly the blanket under Xander's elbow gave a twitch. Then another. Xander swallowed, hoping that he hadn't brought any miniature demons home with him last night, and slowly peered over the side of his bed. What he saw there made him rub his eyes, cartoon style, just to make sure that he wasn't seeing things.
Kittens. Lots of kittens. Lots and lots of kittens. Scattered all over his floor. One was pulling at his blanket with its sharp little claws. One was skidding madly about, careening across his room to collide with various piles of dirty laundry, only to leap over them and continue on its mad chase of dust particles. Another was dutifully giving itself a wash, a little pink tongue lapping over fluffy kitten fur. Yet another was doing something that Xander really didn't want to have to deal with right now in the corner of his room. Others were sleeping, taking kitten naps in the shafts of warming sunlight.
But mostly, they were watching the newly awakened huuumannn in their midst with wide eyes, wondering if he would be getting out of his oversize basket now, and what exactly he would be providing for them with for breakfast.
Huuumannn.
That rang a bell in Xander's fuddled head.
Then it rang a fire alarm.
Finally it rang an air raid siren and Xander leapt out of bed.
Then he paused, gripping the back of his chair for balance, and clutching at his head as he waited for the sting of his headache to pass at the sudden movement.
'Okay... ow!'
Why had he done that again? Oh yeah, air raid siren. Huuumannn. Demons. Playing poker. Drinking way too much. Winning at poker. That was where the kittens had come from. Trying to get really drunk so it wouldn't hurt as much when they killed him. Succeeding at getting really drunk, and then categorically not being killed.
Xander patted himself down. Head, torso, all limbs and vital organs... check. No visible scarring or -- he ran to the mirror -- mangling of his boyish good looks. He gripped the edges of the sink with both hands and let his weight rest there for a moment. Generally he seemed to be in one piece. Dressed in only the baggy jeans he had been wearing the night before and his spanking new watch, and the proud owner of about a dozen kittens, but generally in one piece. He winced as he took in the grey pallor of his skin, and the bloodshot eyes, but still couldn't complain. He'd played poker with demons and lived to tell the tale. Hell, he'd beaten them and lived to tell the tale.
Xander splashed cold water on his face, rinsed out his mouth and ran his wet hands through his hair, lifting the dark curls off of his face.
Beaten them.
'I beat them.'
He grinned to his reflection. His reflection grinned back, its interest sparked.
Yes you did. It nodded at him approvingly. But what exactly did you win?
'A good question indeed, my identical friend. What say we find out?'
Leaving the mirror behind, Xander made his way gingerly back to his bed, trying not to step on any kittens on the way. He did manage to trip over a mangled, ancient looking copy of Playboy on the floor next to his bed, but the kittens escaped unharmed. Standing by his bed, Xander checked his pockets, and threw the items he found there onto his covers.
'Fantastically tacky ring, squashed tootsie roll, old silver lighter, shredded beer mat, large roll of money, book of matches...' Xander paused and slowly picked up the money again, afraid if he moved too fast that it might disappear. No, it was still there, seemed real enough. Leafing through it quickly he counted how much was there. Then he realised he had been too excited to actually count the first time and had to leaf through it again.
Three hundred and sixty-five dollars.
Three hundred and sixty-five dollars.
Three hundred and sixty-five dollars.
Xander sat on his bed and only just resisted the urge to fan the money out and rub it against his naked chest. This was more money than he had seen together in a long, long time. It was all his. He hadn't had to work for it, and he had taken it away from demons.
This was incredible. This was awesome.
This was almost worth the hangover.
The shrill ringing of his phone roused Xander out of his thoughts, and also startled the mass of snow white and chocolate brown fur still tangled together on his bed, making them leap off and disappear under the battered armchair in the corner of the room.
'Hello?' he croaked.
'Xander! Is that you? Where have you been? We had a Scooby meeting this morning, did you forget? I was getting worried about you.'
'Oh hey, Willow. I'm fine. Sorry. I slept in.'
'Xander, is something wrong? You sound terrible.'
'What? Me? No, fine. Everything is peachy in fact.' He eyed the pile of money sitting innocently on his bed and adjusted his watch. 'Couldn't be better. What are you two crazy kids up to today anyway? We have slay plans?'
'Uh, yeah, about that. Giles says no go. He got his dates wrong, so the badness won't be rising 'til next month.'
'Score for the G-man. Well that suits me. I don't really feel like getting beaten unconscious today.'
'Well, no, neither do I.' Xander could hear the smile in Willow's voice. He liked hearing happy Willow. Happy Willow gave him a happy, except not in that special happy way, just the regular happy way. More than anyone else in his life, she had the uncanny ability to make him smile.
He sat up suddenly as he was simultaneously attacked by a brilliant idea, and a kitten who was trying to make a meal of his bare foot.
'Wills?' he asked, gently trying to shake the kitten off his foot. 'Are you and Tara going to be home in about an hour?'
'Yeah. Should be. We're just hanging out. Tara's thinking about redecorating again, and I was going to get in some extra study. Why?'
'Um, no reason. I just thought I might call by in a little bit. I have something you might want.'
'You have surprises?' she asked excitedly.
'Yup. You can say no if you don't want it, but I thought you might like one.'
'One what, Xander? Give me a clue! I can't wait an hour for a surprise, I'll never get any study done!'
Xander wagged his finger reproachfully, even though Willow couldn't see him. 'Ah ah ah. You'll just have to wait and see. I'll see you in about an hour, okay?'
'Okay Xander,' she said, and he could hear the pout. 'I'll see you then.'
He hung up, smiling.
Humming to himself, and looking forward to drinking about a gallon of coffee before he set out for Willow's, Xander lifted an almost dry towel from the back of his chair and headed for the shower, leaving a mass of tumbling kittens in his wake.
Part Three
'Oh my god, Xander, they're so cute, I can't pick one.'
Xander smiled at the two girls bent over the basket of kittens as they oohed and awwed at the little bundles of cuteness. Willow was systematically picking each of them up in turn for a cuddle, before reluctantly setting them down to pick up another.
Tara's beaming face turned up to look at Xander. 'H-how did you know we w-were looking for a kitten?'
'I didn't,' he admitted with a shrug. 'I just happened upon these little fellas who were looking for a good home, and I thought of you two lovely ladies. So I take it you want one?'
'We want all of them,' Willow pouted as she cuddled what had to be number fourteen. Or perhaps she had worked her way through them all and was starting again at the beginning.
'S-sweetie, we can't take them all. It'll be hard enough hiding just one, and besides,' Tara smiled again shyly at Xander, 'X-Xander may only want to give us one of them.'
'Oh no, you can take as many as you want. I can't really keep a dozen cats in the basement. Might cramp my style with all the hot chicks I bring back there. You know, so many people are allergic to cat hair these days.'
Willow rolled her eyes at him knowingly. 'Where did you get them all, anyhow?'
'Trust me,' he said with certainty, 'you wouldn't believe me if I told you.'
Willow just grinned and went back to making her difficult decision. 'I kind of like this one,' she said, holding aloft the snow white kitten who had head-butted Xander's hip earlier that day. 'Don't you think he looks like Spike?'
'Like Spike?' Tara frowned, tilting her head to one side. 'Oh yeah, I see it now.' She reached out and gently stroked the kitten's head in the wrong direction with her forefinger. 'I-if you spike up its hair like this then it totally looks like him.'
The kitten appeared not to like this treatment and reached out with a tiny paw to swipe viciously at the offending finger, only managing to look incredibly cute and making the girls smile even more. Willow held the kitten up for Xander's approval. Xander had to admit there was a certain resemblance. There was also a strange urge to take the kitten away from Willow and persuade her to make a different choice. That one was his own little head-butting kitten.
'Definitely spending too much time with the evil undead, Will,' he told her. 'Hey, how about--'
'This one!' cried Tara, holding up a bright-eyed tortoise shell kitten, who appeared to have been just woken up by the girls' attentions and seemed eager to find out who these two new people were to play with.
'Oh, yes. You're right. She's perfect.' Willow carefully set the Spike-kitten back into the basket with his brothers and sisters, narrowly missing getting caught by another vengeful swipe of its paw, and moved to sit beside Tara so they could get a better look at their new pet.
'Hey, how do you know if they're boys or girls?' Xander asked.
Both girls looked up at him as though he'd just asked them what colour the sky was.
'Silly,' Willow said. 'You can just tell. It's so obvious.'
'Okaaay. So, uh, what are you going to call her?'
Willow and Tara shared a look as they considered his question.
'W-what about Miss Catty?'
'Miss Kitty?' suggested Willow.
'Miss Kitty.' Tara repeated, testing the name out for sound. 'Miss Kitty. I like it. M-Miss Kitty Fantastico.'
'Perfect,' Willow agreed, looking down at the contented kitten in Tara's lap.
Xander rang the doorbell and stepped back the politely appropriate two steps as he waited for the door to be answered. A moment later Joyce Summers opened the door and smiled broadly when she saw Xander standing there.
'Hello, Xander.'
'Hi, Mrs. S. How're you this fine day?'
'Just fine, Xander. Come on in. Are you looking for Buffy? She's up in her room, I'll just call her.'
'Actually, I need to have a word with you first.'
'Oh?' she asked, folding her arms. 'Is something wrong?'
'No, no, nothing like that,' he grinned at her, trying desperately not to think about love spells or zombie masks or any other of the million and one things that had previously gone wrong in this very house. 'I just need your permission first.'
'My permission? What for?'
'For one of these.'
Xander opened the lid of the basket and held it out. Joyce raised an eyebrow at him before looking down into the basket. When she looked up again, she was smiling.
'Permission granted. I think that one of them would be just fine.'
'Hey Buff, you naked in there?'
'As the day I was born,' came the muffled reply.
'Cool,' Xander answered, and pushed the door open.
Buffy sat cross-legged on the bed, braiding her younger sister's hair.
'Wow,' Xander said. 'You were born wearing jeans and a tank top? That must have been hard on your mom.'
'Xannn-der,' Buffy grinned, making an 'ewww' face at him.
'Hi, Xander,' Dawn said, bouncing on the bed and knocking her half-braided hair out of Buffy's hands.
'Hey Dawnie. How's my favourite surrogate little sister doing?'
Dawn shrugged. 'Okay. 'Spose. Buffy won't take me to see that new werewolf movie that's out.'
Buffy rolled her eyes, and lightly smacked the back of her sister's head. 'Yeah, dream on, it's rated R. Mom would go postal if she knew I'd taken you to see that. And plus... we can just wait 'til Oz is in town and you've got the real thing. Besides, monster movies are so dull, and they never get the details right. I mean, look at Blade. Imagine if I had to make stakes out of silver. Do you have any idea how many of those things I go through in a week?' She trailed off as the saw the "nyah nyah, let's make fun of Buffy" looks passing between Xander and her sister and decided that a subject change was in order. 'So, Xander. What's in the basket? You going to visit your old grandmother who lives in the woods?'
'Why Buffy, what big eyes you have.' Xander grinned, batting his lashes at her playfully. 'Actually, I brought you a surprise.'
He set the basket on the bed beside the two girls and flipped open the lid.
'What is it? I can't... KITTENS!'
In a heartbeat, Buffy's bed was swarming with kittens as the two girls giggled and squeaked at the oodles of fluffy cuteness that Xander had so graciously bestowed upon them.
'Xander! This is so nice of you, but we can't, I mean mom would never go for it.'
'Well that's where you'd be wrong, Buff. I have already faced the mom-monster, and she has given her unholy permission for you two to have a kitten. So long as, and I quote, "she doesn't get stuck looking after it, and it doesn't come back from the dead".' Xander scratched his head, a little confused. 'That second part I didn't quite understand, but I totally get the thinking behind it.'
'Yeah,' Buffy agreed. 'Long story.'
'But she said we could keep one, right?' Dawn asked hopefully.
'Uh huh. You're responsible now, right? You're, what, twelve already?'
'Xan-der, I'm fifteen. Which you knew already.'
'Yeah,' he grinned, wiping a pretend tear from his eye, 'you all just grow up so darn fast. Before we know it there'll be boys and motorcycles and makeup and short skirts, and-and parking!'
'Parking?' Dawn asked confused. 'Why would I want to park anything? You mean when I learn to drive?'
'Xander!' Buffy yelped. 'Don't give her any ideas! These are all things that will happen over my dead body.'
'Sorry Buffy,' he apologised, with a quick wink at Dawn. 'You two made a choice yet?'
'I don't know. You think mom would let us keep them all?' Buffy asked, already knowing that the answer to that question would be a resounding 'no'. She picked up the snowy white kitten and examined him critically.
Xander watched this with alarm. That was his white kitten. He realised with a start that he was going to come out of this keeping at least one of them. Like he needed a pet to look after. Although cats were independent, weren't they? The kitten was struggling in Buffy's hand and looking at him beseechingly.
'I don't think this one likes me, Xan,' Buffy told him. 'Here ya go, little fella, go to poppa.' With that she deposited the struggling kitten into Xander's hands, where it immediately seemed more content and began kneading its claws in and out of his shirt, purring as loudly as a l'il bitty kitty cat can.
'Oh, he likes you,' she said. 'Definitely.'
'You think?' Xander asked, holding the kitten awkwardly. 'What do I do?'
'Just be careful,' Buffy told him in a serious tone, 'and remember to support the head.'
'Support the head. Gotcha.'
The two girls burst into a fit of giggles.
'Xander, don't worry. Cats are very self-sufficient, and they always land on their feet. Just play with him and remember to feed him. You'll make a good mommy cat.'
The kitten in Xander's awkward grasp seemed to agree wholeheartedly.
'Where did they all come from, anyway?' Buffy asked him as they watched Dawn chatting happily to a mesmerised black kitten sporting a white patch over one eye and one white paw.
'I liberated them from a nasty demon man in a bar.'
'Yeah, right, like a demon would have a bunch of kittens,' she said, not believing him for a second. 'Where did you really get them?'
Xander smiled at Buffy's assumption, without taking his eyes off Dawn. 'You're absolutely right, Buffy. I can't pull the wool over your eyes. I found them abandoned in a box and thought I'd give them all good homes.'
Buffy looked at him then, impressed. 'That's sweet Xander, you're all heart.'
'This one. She's the one,' Dawn interrupted.
'Ooh, yeah, she's gorgeous,' Buffy agreed. 'Shall we call her Salem?'
Dawn shook her head, giggling delightedly as their chosen kitten followed the movement, thereby shaking its head along with hers at the name. 'We can't call her that. It's a boy's name.'
'Hmmm,' Buffy considered, stroking her chin in thought. 'You're right. We'll have to come up with something else.'
Xander looked at the two girls in confusion. 'Okay, I just don't get it. How can you tell it's a girl?
Dawn held the kitten up to the light. 'You can just tell. This one is so a girl. Look at her face. That's just not a boy kitten kind of a face.'
Xander looked closely at the bewildered kitten. It just looked like a kitten face to him.
'We'll have to take care of her properly,' Buffy said gravely to Dawn, 'I don't want another repeat performance of the goldfish incident.'
'I will, I will, I promise.' Dawn told her. 'My word is my bond.'
Buffy pinned her with a cynical eye.
'What?' Dawn asked her innocently. 'I will. Honest. I'll feed her, clean up after her. I'll even take her for walks if you want. Won't I Cleopatra?'
'Cleopatra?!' groaned Buffy. 'That's terrible. We'll have to come up with something better than that or it's back to Salem.'
'How about Charcoal? Or Smudge?'
'Mmmmaybe. I think I'd go with Smudge. What do you think Xander?'
'Don't involve me. I wash my hands of the chosen kitten. And you know,' he told them as he scooped up the other unwilling kittens into the basket, 'in every litter there is a Chosen One. She alone can battle the dolphin-unfriendly tuna fish, and has the power to be petted by the Key.'
Buffy sighed good-naturedly and watched as Xander struggled to get the last kitten into the basket. The snowy kitten was point blank refusing to go back in the basket and was clinging onto Xander's shirt for dear life. She only just managed to stifle an 'awwww' as Xander gave up and kept the white kitten perched in his hand, where it sat happily with its paws draped over his fingers, watching the world from its new elevated position.
'Any last words of wisdom before you go?'
'Why yes.' Xander looked up at her, oblivious of how she had been watching him unconsciously petting the kitten he held in his hand. 'Dawn, listen up. You'll need to follow these rules, too. There are only three, but they are very important.'
Buffy and Dawn listened carefully.
'Rule 1. Never expose them to sunlight. Sunlight will kill them. Rule 2. Never get them wet. Rule 3, and this is the most important rule of all. No matter how much they beg, no matter how much they plead, never, ever feed them after midnight. Are we clear?'
'Sure,' Dawn told him with a confused nod. 'Clear as mud.'
'Dawnie? Just for future reference, if I ever tell you to listen carefully to what Xander has to say... ignore me, okay?'
'Okay,' Dawn agreed happily as she stroked her kitten.
'Can't you take just one more?'
'Buddy, we're only legally allowed to keep ten in a cage, and as you can see we're all stocked up. Kittens sell like hotcakes in this town. Beats the hell outta me, but we just can't keep up with demand.'
'Then you should be able to get rid of them fairly easily, right?'
'Nuh uh, nice try, but sorry. Today was delivery day.' Bill waved his hand around the store, where the mewling of many assorted kittens could be heard. 'Full house.'
'It was a full house got me into this mess in the first place,' Xander muttered under his breath. He had said his final goodbyes to the dozen remaining kittens on the long walk from Buffy's house to Hank's Pet-o-rama, but was now being told that they could only take ten off his hands. He'd considered offering one to Giles, but both Buffy and Dawn had poo-pooed that idea as a bad one. Xander was inclined to agree.
Giles with a pet that could potentially knock over his teacups, sharpen its claws on the furniture and, heaven forbid, get cat hairs on the tweed?
Poo. Poo.
So he had gone straight to Hank's, getting there shortly before the shop closed for the day.
He used the store credit that Bill (Hank was apparently on vacation) offered him to buy cat food, a scratching post and a basket big enough for two young kittens to comfortably sleep in, and left again for home, the door to the store jangling behind him, a snow white kitten in one hand and a perpetually sleepy chocolate brown kitten in the other.
Part Four
Xander opened the door with his pizza money at the ready, mouth watering at the prospect of the extra cheesy delight he had ordered to celebrate. He was rich, he was no longer overrun by kittens, and best of all, he was still alive. Most definitely not tracked down and slaughtered while he slept by the angry poker demons. Things were good, the wheels of life were turning smoothly.
What he didn't expect to see on the other side of the door was everyone's friendly neighbourhood vampire waiting expectantly, framed in a blue haze of cigarette smoke.
'Xander,' Spike greeted him with a cordial nod of his head.
'Uh, hey Spike.' Xander's brow crinkled in a frown of confusion. 'I didn't order any vampires.'
'Nooo, you probably didn't. Couldn't afford me if you did. Mind if I come in?'
Xander blinked, and found that he had to shake his head slightly to clear it before he could answer. He wondered if Spike could hear the cartoon rattle.
Spike eyed him quizzically. 'Something wrong, whelp?'
'Huh? No, I just wasn't expecting you.'
'Right, 'cause I make so many social calls 'round here. But hey, seeing as I'm here... can I come in?'
'You're still chipped, right?'
'Absolutely. But then, if I wasn't, I'd probably lie. I could punch you to find out if you like...'
'Naw, thanks. I think I'll pass.' Xander stood to one side to let Spike enter.
Spike eyed him a little strangely. 'Uh, yeah, 'bout that "walking on in" thing. I'm gonna need you to invite me. Come on, you guys should know vampire lore by now, shouldn't you? I can't believe you--'
'Spike!' Xander interrupted the vampire's rant. 'You were never un-invited.' He held out his hand to guide Spike into his house. Spike drew his head back a little in distrust of the offer, but tossed his cigarette away and walked into the house.
'Huh. No barrier.'
'I told you.'
'Pretty dumb thing to do, Droopy.' Spike strolled to the stairs and descended into the basement. 'What if I'd got the chip out in the meantime?' he called back over his shoulder.
Xander slowly closed the door. 'Well I guess you would just be obligated to suck my blood, wouldn't you?'
Spike paused, halfway down the stairs and looked up at the boy with a curious glance. 'I guess I would.'
Wondering when his pizza was going to get there, Xander followed Spike down into the basement. 'Yeah, so un-pleasantries aside, why exactly are you here?'
'I've lost something. Torn the crypt apart looking for it. Thought I might've left it here.'
Xander opened his mouth to ask what could be so important to bring Spike halfway across town and back into the home of his enemy to retrieve, when there was another knock on the door from upstairs.
'That'll be the vampires you ordered,' Spike said, already elbow-deep in Xander's threadbare couch.
Letting his mouth snap shut without replying, Xander dutifully retraced his footsteps to collect his pizza. This time the scent of garlic wafted to him before he had even opened the door.
Dinner time.
Spike meanwhile, had spotted the antique silver lighter lying on Xander's bed. 'Hey, Xander, I didn't know you smoked,' he called.
'I don't,' came the reply as Xander reappeared at the foot of the steps.
'Didn't think so. Slayer and the witch'd have your guts for garters. Can I have this then?'
'What?'
Spike held it up. 'This lighter?'
'Yeah, sure, whatever. It's all yours.'
Spike grinned, fishing the battered book of matches he had been reduced to using out of his pocket and tossed it onto Xander's rumpled bed. This had worked out quite well as far as Spike was concerned. Xander had never de-invited him. That was... nice. In a strange, he didn't really care sort of a way and bonus, this lighter was far better than the one he had lost.
'Cheers, mate.'
He breezed back past Xander and up the steps without a backward glance.
'Yeah. See ya around,' Xander muttered to himself.
The door banged shut above him and Xander was left alone, holding the hot pizza box in his hands, wondering what the hell it was that didn't feel right since he had gone to answer the door. Something was just a little off. He felt a little panicked, almost like the prospect of a fight was in the air. Something weird, but... familiar. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew if he could just think straight for a moment that the answer would appear.
He was woken out of his daydream by the now familiar sensation of teeny tiny needlelike claws sinking playfully into his foot.
'Spike!' Xander yelled at the white kitten, who peered up at him sullenly, 'Cut that out!' He did a double take and looked back down at the kitten, who Xander was strangely certain was smirking up at him victoriously. 'Did I just call you Spike?' He squinted at the blob of white fuzz at his foot. 'I guess you do kind of look like him. And god knows you act like him.' He squatted down and speared the kitten with a knowing glare, causing it to immediate cease in its assault on his foot and gaze up at him innocently. 'Yeah, now you do the cutsey-wootsey thing. You're not fooling me, you vicious little kitten you. I think maybe we should get you a chip.'
The kitten blinked lazily at him, growing bored with the reprimand, and wandered away, going, Xander assumed, to find its chocolate brown counterpart who would probably be curled up asleep somewhere as always. As it walked by him, head held high, it rubbed along the length of Xander's foot, briefly wrapping its tail around his ankle in a fleeting fluffy embrace. Xander was appalled to find his vision blurring at the act. He stood upright again in one swift jerk to wipe a tear from his eye.
'Pizza fumes. The pizza fumes are getting to me.'
In more ways than one...
Kitten antics notwithstanding, he still felt funny. The pizza which had seemed so tempting to his empty stomach only moments ago was now thrown forgotten onto the washing machine. He stuffed his change into the back pocket of his jeans, not bothering to count it and discover that he had tipped the delivery boy too much and hadn't even noticed. He sat on the edge of his bed to try and think, but bounded to his feet almost immediately. He couldn't sit still. He needed... out. Needed to figure out what was itching at the inside of his skull and growing progressively worse.
A decision reached, Xander grabbed the first item of clothing that came to hand, a close fitting black sweater, and drew it on over the white T-shirt he had been wearing, grabbed his keys, the rest of his poker winnings and headed back up the steps.
Spike paused just outside the door to light a cigarette. The lighter Xander had given him felt comfortable in his hand as he rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the engravings on its side. It was old. Not as old as he was, but a couple of decades at the very least. The metal felt strangely warm in his palm. He held it up to the porch-light, examining the engravings more closely. They weren't just for decoration, he realised. There were faint words carved into the metal. Words that Spike recognised, written in an ancient demon script that he had never bothered to learn fully. He did however know a few important words. One never knew when these things would come up in his walk of unlife.
'... cursed... darker... no, darkest... hunger? Ack'nar stam-bink? Ack'nar stam-stink? Oh, yeah, desire. A warning. No sleep, no eat, no... quiet? No calm?'
He sighed in annoyance. He didn't feel much like translating an ancient text at the moment. He had felt uneasy since leaving the basement. Something about Xander's matter-of-factness about his visit, and the... niceness. It was just bothering him.
'Bugger me, I hate these stupid languages. So the lighter's cursed, huh? Great. Knowing my luck it'll kill me, then all those twats who think it's so bloody funny to tell a vampire that smoking kills will have been right after all.'
With an exasperated 'tsk!' he shoved the lighter into one of his pockets and drew deeply on his cigarette. As he exhaled he looked down at the glowing butt with distaste, the mellow tobacco not as soothing to him as usual. Annoyed, and somewhat bewildered, he threw the largely unsmoked cigarette away. Still standing on the porch, he glared out into the night, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had been planning on heading back to the crypt for a comfortable night's television viewing, sipping at the remainder of his blood, but now this restlessness had come over him, and he didn't want to sit around doing nothing all night.
His scowl deepened.
It's that bloody lighter. He's cursed me! The little bastard cursed me. I'm fucking cursed! That's just great. With all the other joys in my life, I need this like I need a holy water enema!
Furious, he turned on his heel and reached for the door handle, but at that second the door opened inwards out of his grasp and he came face to face with a surprised Xander. The two men stood for a moment, glowering at one another, each vexed by their mutual feeling of unease, all thoughts of long walks to soothe frazzled nerves and enchanted lighters forgotten in an instant.
'Xander.'
'Spike.'
'Going somewhere?'
'No, I, ah...' Xander looked around, as though surprised to find himself standing there. 'Was just locking the door.'
Spike raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'You got dressed to lock the door?'
'... Yes?'
'Fair enough,' Spike said, not believing him for a second, but already bored with that particular line of questioning. 'Listen, mate, I'm bloody bored. You want to go... do something? Kill something?' he asked hopefully. 'Um, I dunno, drink some beer maybe?'
Xander took a moment to process this information. 'With you?'
'Well... yeah. Nothing like a nice bit of violence and death for what ails you. Or we can play pool, pick up some fit birds. Forget we're mortal enemies for the duration. That sort of rot.'
Xander looked unconvinced.
'You know? Hang out?'
Xander looked at him cynically, wondering what Spike's ulterior motive was for asking him, but not missing the always enjoyable sensation of watching Spike being both exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. In a word -- squirm.
'With you?'
'Yes with me,' Spike snapped. 'I'm bored, alright? You don't exactly look like you're doing much, so... just... come and entertain me.'
Xander narrowed his eyes at the vampire, pursed his lips for a moment as though deep in thought before allowing himself to grin. 'Well when you put it like that...'
'Good,' Spike said quickly, grabbing Xander's elbow and leading him away from the house at a forced march. 'First round's on you, mate. Oh, and by the way, that's a bloody nice watch.'
Part Five
'No, no, no.' Xander stopped abruptly as he realised where they were heading. 'I'm not going to Willy's.'
'Why not?' asked Spike. 'He's got the best beer on tap in town plus they don't serve blood at the Bronze.'
'Well, see, I don't drink blood, and I don't wanna go to Willy's,' Xander stated firmly. Then, as an afterthought -- 'I can't.'
'Can't.' Spike tilted his head to the side curiously. 'That's an interesting word -- "can't". Why exactly can't you go to Willy's?'
'Demons.'
Spike let out a burst of laughter. 'What's that now? You're afraid of demons? You?' he asked with disbelief. 'The only person who spends more time with demons than you is the Slayer. And even then it's a close call. Besides, I'll watch your back.'
'Not afraid of all demons. Just three demons in particular. I beat them at poker and I don't really want to-- Wait. You'll watch my back?'
'Well, yeah,' Spike answered gruffly, taken aback by the abrupt question. 'You just attract trouble... which suits me fine, by the way. Always up for a spot of violence, but that doesn't mean I want Buffy coming after me 'cause I let someone munch on you, does it? And besides, you're buying, remember?'
Xander remained unconvinced. 'Spike, listen. You wanna drink, that's fine. I'm just not really in a party mood.'
'Oh.' Spike was surprised at the disappointment he felt. He had been looking forward to kicking back and having a few drinks.
'Yeah. So how about we just pick up some beers and take them back to my place?' Xander began to walk in the opposite direction, towards town and the one liquor store that Sunnydale boasted. Spike watched him walk away, talking to himself. 'I kind of feel bad about leaving the kittens alone, too. Knowing that white one he'll have the place ripped to shreds by the time we get back.'
'Kittens?' Spike ran a few paces to catch up and fell into step beside him. 'Did you say "kittens"?'
'Yeah. Part of my poker winnings.'
'How many?'
'How many what?'
'Tuh. How many kittens did you win?'
'Fourteen.'
'Fourteen! You won fourteen kittens at poker? That's a small fortune, mate. I'm impressed. They don't normally let humans play.'
'Is it a boy or a girl?'
'Don'be silly. You can just tell. These two are boys.'
'I can't bloody well tell that just from looking at them. Well, maybe I could, but I don't really want to look that closely.'
Xander smacked him on the shoulder. 'Noo! You look at their faces. There's a trick to it. Dawn showed me.'
'Yeah, what's that?'
'Well, I think pretty much it goes like this...' He carefully picked up the sleeping chocolate brown kitten and sat down beside Spike. 'You look at the kitten.'
They both looked at the kitten intently.
'You decide if it's a boy or a girl.'
He held the kitten closer to Spike, indicating that Spike should make a decision.
'It's a boy,' decided Spike helpfully.
''xactly.' Xander told him, boozily impressed with Spike's powers of deduction. 'Huh, they were right. It is simple.'
'I see,' Spike nodded slowly. ''Sgood that. What about the white one?'
'He's a boy, too. Definitely. I think I'm gonna call him Spike 2.'
'What? Why?'
'Willow said he looks like you.'
Spike reached down and snagged the white kitten who was happily attacking the laces of his boots and eyed it suspiciously. 'Doesn't look a thing like me.'
'No wait.' Xander reached over and ruffled the kitten's 'hair', just as Tara had done earlier, making it stick up into unruly curling spikes. 'See? Now 'syou. And plus, he attacks everything he can reach. Woke me up th'smorning with a headbutt.'
''E did?' Spike asked, looking at the struggling kitten in a whole new light.
'Uh huh.' Xander nodded solemnly.
'Huh. Maybe there's more to this pet lark than meets the eye,' Spike speculated, turning to lie on his stomach on the bed and set the kitten down in front of his face.
Then with no warning, and before the kitten had time to scamper away, Spike suddenly vamped out. The kitten sat very still, watching Spike, heedful of the potential danger. The two feline creatures glared at one another for a long moment, until the diminutive cat rose onto all fours and walked purposefully towards Spike's lowered face.
Xander was frozen, watching in fascination as the kitten advanced. Spike let out a low warning growl, which the kitten flinched away from, but didn't stop slinking its way toward him. It finally halted, barely an inch away from Spike's face, and stood there, eyeballing the vampire, shifting its insubstantial weight from paw to paw.
The tension was unbearable. The silence in the basement absolute.
Spurglie's poor attempt at picture manipulation: check out Spike with the widdle kiddy cat |
Slowly, very, very slowly, the kitten closed the space between them, until it bumped noses with Spike and rubbed its way across his cheek, nuzzling briefly into the bend of Spike's shoulder before digging its claws into his shirt and happily climbing onto his shoulder.
Xander was amazed. Spike 2 hadn't taken to anyone like that.
Spike sat up, bringing the kitten with him, and turned to the astonished Xander. 'Xander? Can I have him?'
'Depends. Are you going to eat him?'
'No, you pillock, I'm not going to eat him. Just...' Spike's fingers toyed with the soft fur of the kitten's belly, '... want him.'
Xander immediately scowled. That one was his kitten, and everybody seemed to want to take it from him, but the scowl faded as he saw the earnest look on Spike's face, and the purring kitten blithely bumping against his cheek.
'Yeah,' he agreed grudgingly. 'You can have him.'
'Nice one.' Spike answered him with a blinding grin. 'I'm not calling him "Spike", though. That'd just get confusing, and be bloody stupid. What do you think about Flick-knife? Or Beast, maybe?'
'"Flick-knife"? You really are a vampire, aren't you?'
'You know it. Be a pet and get me another beer, will ya? This one's empty already.'
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