Spike's Pet
DISCLAIMER: Fer cry eye ei, if you SERIOUSLY think that I own any of the recognizable elements of this fic, you need to get your head outta a hole. That includes you, you lawyer you.
Author's Note: This takes place in some corner of my brain that has no continuity whatsoever with the show. Dru's gone, that's about it. This is dedicated to Stewball Anakin Speedracer, the bane of my life. Did I mention he's a cat?
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Spike was crouched on the top of the building, watching the telly of some girl in the apartment across the way. He was fiddling with the asphalt roofing material, picking chunks out of it and throwing them into the darkness below. He was bored. And dammit, he missed Dru. Torturing innocents just wasn't as fun any more since she'd gone and left him for... the thought was too painful. He threw another bit of asphalt into the alley, and idly hoped it hit someone. He needed to feed soon, but he didn't feel like making any effort.
Suddenly, he heard a scream rend the night. Someone was in pain. Another scream. Someone was being tortured. And another scream. Someone was having fun, and Spike wanted in on the action.
He climbed down the fire escape quickly, and oriented himself. Fortunately, a longer scream pierced the air, and he ran off down the alley, making a wide right turn and skidding to a halt.
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike said, disappointed. There, on a pile of garbage, was a cat fight. Not the good kind, either, with pulling hair and maybe some tops going missing, but two... cats. One was midnight black with yellow eyes, and would have looked like a perfect witch's familiar if it wasn't bleeding from half a dozen wounds. It was missing an ear. Actually, it wasn't missing, it was in the mouth of the other cat, a grey and black striped tom that looked like any other mangy grey and black striped tom cat. It eyed Spike with thinly veiled hostility, then dismissed him, spitting out the ear and calmly, almost sedately, jumped on the black cat again and began clawing it into bloody shreds. The black cat screamed again.
Spike shrugged, and settled down to watch the tom cat work. He truly did have a way with it, seeming to use his little claws like small flensing knives. Dru had a set of flensing knives he'd given her for some ridiculous reason a couple of decades ago, and she'd enjoyed using them to peel her victim's skin off, so it wouldn't get stuck in her teeth. The cat's movements were much more surgical than Dru's hack-at-it, they'll-breed-more style. Quite artistic really.
A shoe came flying down from above, almost hitting the tom. Greenish eyes glinted in the light from a second floor window, and a voice yelled, "Knock it off! God damn cats!" The tom, in two fluid jumps, went from the garbage heap to the fire escape, into the window. There were screams, a crash, then the cat nimbly jumped back onto the garbage pile. The black cat had taken the opportunity to escape, and the tom decided he had done enough, and began to lick the blood from his claws.
Spike took off his jacket, and slowly, not to alarm it, threw it over the tom. He threw his body over it, to keep the cat from escaping. Claws pierced through the leather, tearing giant holes in it, and moderate-sized holes in Spike's hide. Cursing, Spike struggled with the bundle the entire way back to his hotel.
********************
"Well," the thin, weedy man said, pushing his wire rimmed glasses up on his nose. "It's not demonic, I can tell you that. It's not possessed or rabid either."
"James, bloody hell, it clawed its way through the bathroom door. And that was half-inch thick plywood. You're not telling me it's---"
"A normal, run of the mill, house cat. At least genetically. I've never seen a house cat do that much damage in such a short time, though." James reached for a piece of paper, and mistakenly put his hand a foot from the cage. A paw struck out like lightning, opening a three inch gash down the back of his hand. He hissed, and his game face made a brief appearance, then opened another Band-Aid. He added the protective sterile paper strips to the large pile on the desk. "It's just... evil. I wouldn't have thought it possible."
"James, you need to go to Sunnydale for a while and then you'll stop throwing words like 'impossible' around." Spike put his hand on the top of the cage to lift the handle. The cat moved as if he was going to strike, but Spike just growled warningly. He morphed into his game face, then wincing, let it return to normal and patted the steri-strips holding his cheeks together. "Come on, Shaitan, let's go home. This big bad man doesn't understand you. Saying you're evil like it's a _bad_ thing."
Shaitan yowled in response, and James shuddered involuntarily. As the door to his office closed, he heard Spike say, "I think we need to take a little trip to Sunnydale. There's a blonde up there who just loves little kitties."
Shaitan yowled.
*****
Please remember to spay or neuter your demonic cats.
DISCLAIMER: Fer cry eye ei, if you SERIOUSLY think that I own any of the recognizable elements of this fic, you need to get your head outta a hole. That includes you, you lawyer you.
Author's Note: This takes place in some corner of my brain that has no continuity whatsoever with the show. Dru's gone, that's about it. This is dedicated to Stewball Anakin Speedracer, the bane of my life. Did I mention he's a cat?
------------------------------------
Spike was crouched on the top of the building, watching the telly of some girl in the apartment across the way. He was fiddling with the asphalt roofing material, picking chunks out of it and throwing them into the darkness below. He was bored. And dammit, he missed Dru. Torturing innocents just wasn't as fun any more since she'd gone and left him for... the thought was too painful. He threw another bit of asphalt into the alley, and idly hoped it hit someone. He needed to feed soon, but he didn't feel like making any effort.
Suddenly, he heard a scream rend the night. Someone was in pain. Another scream. Someone was being tortured. And another scream. Someone was having fun, and Spike wanted in on the action.
He climbed down the fire escape quickly, and oriented himself. Fortunately, a longer scream pierced the air, and he ran off down the alley, making a wide right turn and skidding to a halt.
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike said, disappointed. There, on a pile of garbage, was a cat fight. Not the good kind, either, with pulling hair and maybe some tops going missing, but two... cats. One was midnight black with yellow eyes, and would have looked like a perfect witch's familiar if it wasn't bleeding from half a dozen wounds. It was missing an ear. Actually, it wasn't missing, it was in the mouth of the other cat, a grey and black striped tom that looked like any other mangy grey and black striped tom cat. It eyed Spike with thinly veiled hostility, then dismissed him, spitting out the ear and calmly, almost sedately, jumped on the black cat again and began clawing it into bloody shreds. The black cat screamed again.
Spike shrugged, and settled down to watch the tom cat work. He truly did have a way with it, seeming to use his little claws like small flensing knives. Dru had a set of flensing knives he'd given her for some ridiculous reason a couple of decades ago, and she'd enjoyed using them to peel her victim's skin off, so it wouldn't get stuck in her teeth. The cat's movements were much more surgical than Dru's hack-at-it, they'll-breed-more style. Quite artistic really.
A shoe came flying down from above, almost hitting the tom. Greenish eyes glinted in the light from a second floor window, and a voice yelled, "Knock it off! God damn cats!" The tom, in two fluid jumps, went from the garbage heap to the fire escape, into the window. There were screams, a crash, then the cat nimbly jumped back onto the garbage pile. The black cat had taken the opportunity to escape, and the tom decided he had done enough, and began to lick the blood from his claws.
Spike took off his jacket, and slowly, not to alarm it, threw it over the tom. He threw his body over it, to keep the cat from escaping. Claws pierced through the leather, tearing giant holes in it, and moderate-sized holes in Spike's hide. Cursing, Spike struggled with the bundle the entire way back to his hotel.
********************
"Well," the thin, weedy man said, pushing his wire rimmed glasses up on his nose. "It's not demonic, I can tell you that. It's not possessed or rabid either."
"James, bloody hell, it clawed its way through the bathroom door. And that was half-inch thick plywood. You're not telling me it's---"
"A normal, run of the mill, house cat. At least genetically. I've never seen a house cat do that much damage in such a short time, though." James reached for a piece of paper, and mistakenly put his hand a foot from the cage. A paw struck out like lightning, opening a three inch gash down the back of his hand. He hissed, and his game face made a brief appearance, then opened another Band-Aid. He added the protective sterile paper strips to the large pile on the desk. "It's just... evil. I wouldn't have thought it possible."
"James, you need to go to Sunnydale for a while and then you'll stop throwing words like 'impossible' around." Spike put his hand on the top of the cage to lift the handle. The cat moved as if he was going to strike, but Spike just growled warningly. He morphed into his game face, then wincing, let it return to normal and patted the steri-strips holding his cheeks together. "Come on, Shaitan, let's go home. This big bad man doesn't understand you. Saying you're evil like it's a _bad_ thing."
Shaitan yowled in response, and James shuddered involuntarily. As the door to his office closed, he heard Spike say, "I think we need to take a little trip to Sunnydale. There's a blonde up there who just loves little kitties."
Shaitan yowled.
*****
Please remember to spay or neuter your demonic cats.