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The Cat's Meow

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Buffy nibbled on the chicken wing she had just devoured. Spike was suckling contentedly on one too. She watched him for a moment, then wondered:

"What's the best part about being you?"

He cocked an eyebrow, finishing the wing and tossing it back in the bucket it had come in before rolling over on his back on the bed.

"Freedom, baby," he answered simply. "Or at least it was... 'til the bleeding government got a say in it."

"Right... The chip. How weird. And how cruel."

Now he met her gaze.

"Just what I think," he nodded, and the sincerity in his voice had her smile, putting her wing down as well.

"I mean, can they do that? Really? 'Cause that should be violating an amendment or two, just sticking something in your brain that completely holds you back from being... who you are."

"Ah, but see, in this context it's what I am, not who; and unfortunately the amendments only work for the human race. If you're a demon you pretty much have to fend for yourself."

"Terribly unfair."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" he smiled and she giggled, grabbing the bucket and getting it out of the way before she placed herself next to him. "I think if they're so bloody aware of us they could very well find a way to include us in their petty regulations."

"From what I gather you're not very fond of abiding by the rules," she pointed out.

"As aren't a lot of humans, but you don't see them walking around getting electrocuted in the noggin' simply 'cause they wish to kill something."

She was silent for a while and then she asked:

"Is it really like that? A need to... kill? Just haphazard mayhem?"

He thought it over.

"No... Not haphazard. But sometimes you need to blow off some steam. I bet you know all about that."

"I bet I would," she mumbled and he glanced at her.

It was nearing seven o'clock and he had woken up to the smell of the chicken she had gone and bought. She was still wearing her pajamas, but her hair was brought into a high ponytail. Still, the thought of her walking to the local KFC and buying the food was something that kept bringing a slight curve to his lips. He had to admit that after the stunt she had pulled with the old poof, he sort of had come to terms with having her there.

"So, if the freedom's taken away... there's nothing good about being you?" she was asking.

"I've got strength, speed, hearing, sight..."

"Yeah, I have those too," she said matter-of-factly, which suddenly irked him something incredible. "And then there's the pesky business of sucking blood, which I'm happy to do without."

He didn't reply to that and so she let the comment hang in the air. He didn't seem to want to talk about it, and she recalled that he couldn't feed anymore. So, he missed it then. She had a slight shudder run through her and sat up, putting her arms around her before looking down at the pajamas.

"God, I wish I had a change of clothes," she sighed.

He looked at her back and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Done," he stated and in the next blink he was gone.

She stared at the spot he had been in and slowly got to her feet. She wished she knew what other tricks he could do. She went up and got some matches, having almost finished with lighting the downstairs when he returned, plastic bag in hand.

"What's that?" she asked and he dumped the contents out.

She gave a slight squeal of delight at the sight of the jeans and sweaters he had gotten for her. She grabbed them and clutched them tight to her chest before she wrapped her free arm around his neck and gave him a hard hug.

"You are a god, answering a girl's prayers! Thank you!" she exclaimed.

When she pulled back she began fussing with the clothes and didn't notice the way he was watching her, taking a few steps away from her. He wanted to know exactly why she was there, that was all he wanted. And exactly why he had let her stay. There was something in the curve of her shoulder. Something in the softness of her blonde locks. Something he didn't want to acknowledge.

So he looked away, cursed himself and went back up to the ladder.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'll let you change," he muttered, climbing upward and away.

She put the jeans on, noting that they were hers and wondering how he'd been able to get into the house undetected. Had he used speed or strength? Had he gone through her window or the front door? She thought of his cockiness and settled on the latter option. She brought a black sweater over her head and let her hair out, combing her fingers through it before she walked up to the ladder, climbing it easily and stepping up and into the crypt.

He wasn't there and she furrowed her brow.

"Spike?" she tried, but he was gone.

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"This can't be happening," Joyce was saying. "She can't stay there! She's a minor! She can't just up and leave! I'm calling the police."

"And what are you going to tell them?" Giles asked. "My daughter only looks nineteen; she's fifteen in spirit and staying at a crypt with a vampire?"

"No. I'll leave out the spirit and vampire part. He's poisoning her!"

"I'm afraid," Giles murmured, "it's not all his fault this time. Buffy is strong-willed, you and I both know that, Joyce. This wasn't his influence, it was her choice. Now we can only pray that the outcome won't be too disastrous."

"I don't want to hear it! We are getting her out of there...!"

"How?" Giles stopped her softly. "Those two together? We'd need a small army. They're too strong. I'm sorry. We'll have to wait until she comes home."

Joyce sunk down on the couch of the Summers home, her hands in tight fists on her lap. She seemed to forget just who her daughter was as of late. And she realized that it was true – she couldn't make her daughter do anything she didn't want to do.

Please, Buffy, she thought. Please, come to your senses!

¤

"Please, Buford!" the lady on the screen called after the man, who was walking away from her with determined steps. "Please, come to your senses! Come back to me! Buford! Buford!"

Buffy yawned, shifting on the armchair and wondering if she should head downstairs. It was close to two o'clock and still no sign of Spike. She was bored, the black-and-whites she had been watching didn't do it for her and she had been sleeping restlessly on and off for the past hour. Now she stretched and when she turned her head she drew in a startled breath as her gaze met two blue eyes, watching her. She glared at him, suddenly irritated.

"Where 've you been?" she asked, rising and turning the TV off.

"Why, you didn't wait up for me... did you?" he asked, a teasing sparkle in his gaze.

She kept her eyes in his and then she huffed, walking passed him on her way to the ladder.

"Fine," she said. "Be that way. I could've come with you, you know?"

"And what?" he asked, humor in his voice. "Watched me play poker? Done a little dancing, a little drinking? 'S not your scene, love."

"Don't talk to me like you know me," she fired off, stopping and turning back to him. "And don't call me 'love'."

He raised his eyebrows, getting to his feet.

"You upset, love?"

"Why would I be? Just 'cause you see it fit to abandon me here all night..."

"Abandon?" he laughed. "Come on. You could've gone out by yourself. You're so good at taking care of yourself, remember? You weren't scared, were you?"

"Do you want me to hit you? 'Cause I'll do it!" she warned and his smile merely widened.

"So do it," he urged, holding his arms out to the sides.

"Tomorrow night – I'm coming with you," she said, turning and disappearing down to the bedroom.

He didn't move for a while, unsure of what he should do. A small noise in his coat pocket made him frown and then he remembered he had kept some of his winnings for later. He put his hand in and brought out the small kitten by the neck. It kicked furiously for something to grab onto and he vamped out.

"Sorry, mate," he muttered. "Cat's gotta meow, vamps gotta..."

"What's that noise?" Buffy's voice asked and she poked her head up, her face going blank at the sight of him and in the next instant she had the kitten safe in her arms and a look of death on the creature before her.

"Bugger," he grumbled.

"You were going to eat her, weren't you?" Buffy asked, appalled. "What? Feel like a late night snack? Are you crazy? You can't go around snacking on innocent little animals! I suppose you eat puppies too?"

"Not really too fond of them," he shook his head. "Their blood's sticky, doesn't flow well." He met her gaze, then sighed. "Give it 'ere. 'S my kitty and I can do with her as I please."

"You are not going to eat this cat!" she exclaimed and with another glare she headed back downstairs, kitten still in a firm grip.

He followed.

She walked up to the bed, cuddling the kitten lovingly and carefully placing it on the bed. Once that was done she twirled back to face him.

"You know, you can't always get what you want!"

"Stones. Yeah, gotta love 'em."

"What are you talking about? Never mind. That living, breathing thing over there that you were about to sink your big, ugly fangs into actually has feelings! It probably smelled the vamp stench all over you and almost had a heart attack! You know, you can't just walk around telling yourself you're as bad as they come! Like it or not, I see right through that! And you can't go around thinking you're bigger than life simply 'cause you're dead!"

He looked at her through the entire outburst, his expression not changing. When he spoke his voice was controlled, but laced with agitation.

"You can't barge in here telling me what not to do. I am not about to rearrange anything simply 'cause it happens to stroke you the wrong way! If that's a problem for you then you can run back to mommy dearest. Now, that's my kitten. I won it almost fair and square and I'll be buggered if I'll hand it over to you without a fight. Give it here!"

She didn't think she'd ever been so mad at anyone. She marched up to the bed, picked the kitten up and brought it over to him.

"Look at her," she said. "Just take one second to look her in the eye and you'll get what I'm talking about. She doesn't deserve to die like that. No one does."

He clenched his jaws together as the Slayer put the kitten in his hands before turning around and proceeding back up to the bed, onto which she crawled. He glared at her, irritated enough to want to wring her neck. He moved his hands up, parting his lips, about to bite the thing when it meowed meekly. He squinted at it, its gaze suddenly in his. He felt a twitch near his heart, not for the animal, but for himself. He had just now thought he had successfully blocked the Slayer's words out, and here he was adhering to every one of them.

He growled, dropping the kitten to the floor unceremoniously and clamping up to the bed. Getting the duster off with irate movements he then lay down. He could feel her turn her head to look at him, but he ignored her. She got off the bed again and he heard her speak softly to the kitten.

"You bring that thing in 'ere and you're both sleeping upstairs," he warned.

Buffy didn't bother taking him seriously. She lay back down, keeping herself between him and the tiny cat. She smiled at it, gently stroking its little head, and soon it was nestled against her armpit, sleeping soundly.

"Wish you wouldn't try so hard," she murmured and just as she had given up hope for a response from him, it came.

"With what?"

"Being something you're not."

"I'm starting to think this whole amnesia gig is some means of getting me housebroken, pet," he grunted. "We are who we are – nothing more and nothing less," he added. "Why'd you think you were able to kill that vamp? 'Cause it's in you. Slaying is inside you."

"And I suppose kitten killing is in you?" she scoffed. "The eating of the innocents; that's your nature, right? Well, according to Giles sleeping beside you is something I'd never do. I guess we all can find ways to go around our own boundaries... if we want to."

He paused, and then turned his head to look at her.

"And why would you want to, Slayer?" he mumbled, her gaze meeting his fleetingly before she glanced away again.

"I already told you that," she answered.

"Right," he said, voice still lowered and eyes still on her. "Well, live food in the bed makes me itchy."

He rose and she blinked, wanting to sit up, but the sleeping kitten prevented that.

"You leaving again?" she asked.

"I know, midst all the bonding," he sighed mournfully as he pulled the duster on again.

"I just..."

She trailed off and he stopped his movements long enough to take her in, then he smirked.

"You have Kitty there to keep you company. Night's still young; I'll see you at dawn."

"Where do you go?"

"Why? Gonna come find me?"

"Spike."

"Willy's," he replied simply. "Keep an eye over your shoulder if you go there, and bring Kitty along. She might come in handy if I'm losing."

She wanted to throw a pillow at him, but kept the urge down and simply glared at him as he left.

Why do you care? she muttered in her head. Time to get practical, Buffy. Time to move on from slight obsession of the evil undead and find someone a bit healthier to live with. Time to... go home?

No, she insisted to herself. Not yet. Just not quite yet.

She scratched Kitty behind one ear and soon there was a contented purring coming from the small ball of fur.

¤

The sky was nearly light when he came back to the crypt. He shut the door tight and turned around, struggling to keep the room from spinning. He had finally reached some sort of buzz, tequila was good that way, but he didn't want to fall down the ladder. He had done that enough times, woken up in odd positions on the hard floor beneath and walking around the next night stiff as a board. He descended clumsily, but with great care, and soon stood on both feet on the floor below.

He gave a nod of accomplishment and proceeded with walking further into the bedroom.

However, he felt as though he was quickly sobering up at the sight which met him.

Buffy was standing on her head, her feet in the air and her arms folded at the elbow at either side of her head, her body perfectly straight. Her balance was absolute and her back was to him, showing off a pair of flawlessly shaped, tanned legs ending in an ass that made his mouth water. He nearly slapped himself, but decided against it and merely cleared his throat.

No reaction from her.

She was wearing a tank top and tight little boxer shorts; something he thought was pretty unfair. What had happened to the covering clothes he'd brought?

He looked away from her and into the wall, suppressing every predatory as well as male instinct to pounce on her. He was shocked at himself and blamed it all on the alcohol. From this moment on he wouldn't touch it, come the end of the sodding world he wouldn't touch it for the life of him. He'd keep a clear mind through anything, especially this ordeal. Once the Slayer was the Slayer and out of his closer vicinity, then... maybe... he'd allow himself a sip of something not too strong.

He heard her move and when he glanced at her she was on all fours, stretching one leg back.

His mouth fell open and he let out a low-throated growl at himself before looking away again.

"Hi, Kitty," she said and he noticed the kitten moving by the foot of the bed. "Don't mind him," Buffy added, and he had to turn around with a scowl.

She had just stood and now straightened her back, reaching her arms over her head before relaxing with an exhale.

"Good morning," she greeted.

"Up a little early, aren't we?"

"I rise with the sun," she smiled sweetly, scooping the miniature cat up and walking up to the bed, beginning to pull on her jeans.

"Leaving?" he asked.

"Don't worry, I'll be back."

"Wasn't worried," he muttered, slipping the duster off.

"You stink of tequila," she pointed out as she passed him on her way to the ladder, Kitty with her.

"Just trying to drown out that vamp stench," he shot and she smiled broadly.

"Hit a spot with that one, huh?" she asked and he shook his head as he splayed himself on the bed. "Sweet dreams," she said as she started climbing.

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She walked briskly. The morning air was crisp and cool and within moments she felt more aware of the world surrounding her than she thought she had for some time. The way her feet hit the pavement in perfect rhythm, the way Kitty was squirming against her chest, the way everything seemed on the verge of waking. The Slayer smiled to herself.

She was amazed she had been able to hold the position she'd just been in for so long without toppling over. She was amazed that she had actually succeeded in leaving the room right when he finally saw fit to show up. She was thrilled how she'd taken back a little bit of the control she'd felt slipping out of her grip.

It took her a while, but finally she arrived at campus. She searched for her dorm and of course it was locked. Luckily an early bird jogger let her in as he entered, even holding the door open for her. Security sure was tight at this place. She walked up the stairs to her floor and quietly made her way down the corridor. Reaching her room she tried the knob and was happy to find the door open. She peaked inside, but the room was empty.

She furrowed her brow at the untouched bed of Willow's, and then shrugged; putting Kitty down on the floor she walked up to her closet, finding what she was searching for in the form of a backpack she began to stow some of her clothes in. She walked around the room, touching her things and grabbing a few items she thought might come in handy. Then she retrieved a towel, shampoo, conditioner, soap, and headed for the showers.

She let the water work as therapy, cleansing her mind as well as her body. She had so far been following her intuition, and it seemed to have worked in her favor since she was still standing. She did wish that she had someone to talk to, though. Just someone to vent to. Barking at Spike for behaving like a totally self-centered, annoying jerk didn't really count.

She turned off the shower; drying off and getting dressed before heading back to the room. Just as she opened the door she caught the sound of Willow's voice, but it was too late.

"Aren't you the cutest?" the Wicca was cooing, looking up as Buffy entered with a trying smile on.

"Hi," the blonde greeted and Willow raised her eyebrows. "Look, I've said I'm sorry a billion times and it doesn't seem to cut it so what do you want me to say!"

"Nothing."

"I can explain..."

"Don't wanna hear it. Buffy, I know you. I know that you wouldn't do something like this if you didn't have a reason. I know that somewhere somehow this all makes perfect sense. You hanging out with Spike – whom you loathe and distrust more than anyone you've ever met. You distressing your mom to the point of her calling the police, worrying her for... what reason was it again? Oh, no, don't tell me; again something that has to do with Spike. What is it with this...vamp? Has he gotten you to believe that he doesn't want you dead? Because ever since he first set foot in this town, all he's done has been to try and get you killed one way or another. But then, I told you this already!"

"Yeah, you did," Buffy nodded, still tentative. "And he agreed to everything you said."

"I see. And this... is a good thing?"

"At least he's not a liar."

"At least he's not a liar!" Willow exploded, making Kitty, who had settled comfortably by the Wicca on the latter's bed, jump with fright. "If I could I'd ram your head through that wall right about now! That might make you get it! Or at least knock you out long enough for me to figure out how to get through to you! I don't know what's wrong with you, I don't know what happened to you, and I can't seem to find a way to get you back to normal; but I'm telling you, this isn't you!"

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't!"

"Yes, it is! You just didn't know me when I was this me! I've seen things that I can barely understand over the past week. I've seen stuff I only thought was reserved for specific nightmares had by specific people! I've learned things about myself I had no idea was even possible! And I understand that Spike and I have history, a heavy one, that I know virtually squat about. But, you know what? I don't care about that. When you look at him you see a monster. I get that. He was about to eat that adorable thing over there right before I stopped him. He's insane! Egotistical. And what's with the hair? But... I know that's not all of him. He's an iceberg, okay? He only shows the tip. He's so angry, Willow. And sad. And misplaced, somehow. And lonely."

Willow merely stared at her, too shocked to say anything.

"Look, this is Kitty," Buffy continued after a few moments silence. "She can't stay with me because... well, it might be hazardous to her health. Could you keep her here for a while, you think?" Willow looked over at the kitten and finally smiled, nodding. "Great. And don't worry about me. I've got it all under control!" the Slayer assured, grabbing the backpack and a brush before heading out the door.