Spike changed the channels abruptly; no infomercials for him tonight. He settled into an old black-and-white, something pitiful but appealing.
A soft brush against his hand drew his attention. "Well, if it isn't Puss in Boots," he muttered, petting the witches' cat. Miss Kitty Fantastico purred and cuddled closer.
"What, no fear? No loathing?"
She stared up at him with marble eyes.
"Snarky comebacks? Disappointment?"
She mewled and pawed him. He scooped her onto his lap and stroked her affectionately. Her rough tongue scraped his chin; she welcomed his cold hands behind her ears. Spike couldn't help falling in love.