Humans, Demons, and Bears

Sweetprincipale

Spike's a major big bad who can take on the hordes of hell… so why does an adorable little fur ball from his beautiful bride have him hyperventilating? (That's pretty hard to do when you're an undead guy.) It turns out that Buffy has a (seemingly innocent) test in mind for her anniversary with Spike. A furry, funny, feel-good one-shot inspired by the glorious pfeifferpack.


"Okay… are you ready?"

"Your mates are comin' over. You'd better make this 'surprise' a quick one, Luv." Spike shivered in anticipation. His gorgeous wife had told him she had an Anniversary Eve prezzie. Then she told him to sit in his recliner, his eyes shut, and his hands on the armrests.

"Don't. Move."

The firmness in her tone made him squirm. "You're gettin' naughtier the longer we stick it out, Slayer," Spike sighed contentedly. "This 'old marrieds' shtick? A load of tripe."

"You could be right. This is definitely something I've never done before." Buffy purred seductively as she slipped a silk scarf over her husband's eyes. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course. Always. Forever." Spike leaned forward and found her lips, only to find something heavy and plastic slipping over his ears. Heavy duty ear protection, like firing range earmuffs. "Oooh hoo. Baby's really bringing out all the kinks," Spike murmured. He couldn't hear anything but a faint hum of life, not the usual clear heartbeat of his beloved. She must be feeling especially frisky this night before their one-year anniversary. Sensory deprivation. She was going to experiment with his sense of touch or taste. Or maybe smell. And in the living room, right before the old gang was due to show up…

He felt the vibrations of her footsteps returning, coming back light, but off-balance. Weaving a little? What could she be carrying? His mind went to all sorts of amazing places.

Before he could let his imagination travel further, Buffy pushed something into his lap in one second and whisked the blindfold and earmuffs off in the next.

"ARGH! Fuck! Bloody hell!" Spike scrambled up into his chair, away from the furry demon of the animal kingdom his wife had dropped in his lap. "WHY?! Why the hell would you—"

"SPIKE!" Buffy gasped and snatched the black ball of fluff before it smacked the hardwood floor. "What the hell is the matter with you!?"

"Where did you get it?" Spike growled, leaping over the back of the chair and crouching behind it, still trying to figure out why his Buffy, his best friend, his lover, his partner— was trying to see if vampires could still have a case of brown trousers even though their guts had packed it in.

"Dawn's college professor raises them!" Buffy gaped at him, cradling the murderous thing in her arms.

"Dawnie's college professor raises bears? Since when did Dawn start majorin' in animals that can disembowel you with one nail!?"

"Bear? Chow chow!"

Silence.

"What?" Spike blurted as Buffy hissed—

"What?"

"I asked first," Spike slowly emerged from his hiding place. Now that he wasn't startled out of his wits, he could see that although the bundle of black fur looked far too much like a bear for any decent animal, there were a few differences. It had a curly tuft of a tail. Spike also hadn't seen bear cubs except when he was too slow with the remote, but he didn't think they were that small.

"It's a dog. A chow chow. And… w-well, I guess it's stupid." Buffy ran her hands over the pup's fluffy back.

"That there are TWO animals who look like bloodthirsty killing machines?" Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath and sat down on the floor, an arm's length back from Buffy and the creature.

"Okay, you owe me an explanation, Mr. Former Bloodthirsty Killing Machine. After I finish mine." Buffy heaved a sigh. "It's the dog test."

"The dog test?" Spike tore his eyes from the dog to look at the woman holding him. Her cheeks were bright pink and her eyes were too bright. Well, yes, you idiot, you threw her surprise on the ground and acted like a coward! You've been tortured how many times? You gonna let a tiny bear— dog— frighten you?

"So, sometimes couples get a pet together." Buffy's voice was like autumn leaves under food, suddenly crackling and breaking so that none of the words came out at the same volume.

She's really put a lot of stock in whatever this was. She even blindfolded you. She hid the little beast somewhere and even muffled your ears so you wouldn't hear its heartbeat when it got closer. She thought whatever this was… it was going to be wonderful, a big wonderful surprise.

"Yeah, they do." Spike reached out and brushed her arm slowly with the back of his hand, scooting closer. His instincts were yelling loudly that it would be better to back away from the dog, but his husband-instincts that said he had to fix Buffy were louder still.

"We have a house now. Dawn's graduating next year, and she's planning to move from the residence halls to Xan's flat. I l-like London, a lot. I didn't think it would ever feel like home, but it does! And I have this feeling like this is where I belong, not just now, but for a long time. This is the place. I don't think you or Giles will ever want to leave. Dawn loves it here. She has Xander, and Xander has NO desire to go back to the states and get closer to his drunken parents, and Willow is in old ivy-covered heaven at Cambridge… and ditto about the parents, only substitute 'out of touch' for drunken…"

"I get it. This is home. Our home. Home is where you are, Buffy. Not just for me, but for all of the merry little band." Spike had to admit that in the last four years they had let him in, properly in, and made him family (and resident tour guide/errand runner/ translator of people with thick accents that spoke too fast). Xander, the harshest hold-out, had even made a deal with him. If Xander could have a chance to prove he was good enough for Dawn, then Spike could have the same chance with Buffy. The mutual grilling and trying to out-boyfriend the other had worked wonders for their relationship. Spike could see why Buffy thought this was it, the place to make a life, and get a pet. For the first time in nearly two centuries, he didn't feel restless and hungry in his heart or soul.

Buffy scooted under his arm, the dog in her lap making a half-hearted wiggle. All it did was flop onto its back, showing a fluffy black belly and stubby legs. Buffy giggled.

Spike eyed her from the side. "Has a certain… helpless charm, doesn't it?" he asked gruffly.

Buffy looked at him, those bright eyes on the verge of spilling. "He is helpless. And little. Not exactly a newborn, but only six-weeks old. The mother had a big litter and he's the runt. She's neglecting him. Dawn's professor has been hand-feeding him, but she's going to let him go to a good home already, even though you're usually supposed to wait a few more weeks. With a new semester about to start, she wanted to find a family who would give him lots of time and attention."

"And Dawn managed to get her to palm him off on us?"

"Well, Dawn knew I was looking for a puppy for our anniversary, so… It was like fate. I thought it was like fate, until you turned all Spiderman on me and practically stuck to the ceiling." Buffy elbowed him lightly. "You have to explain that."

"I will." Spike rested his head on hers. The gang was going to arrive in fifteen minutes, but there was still something his wife was holding back. Time had made him an expert on that. This sort of hesitation was the semi-annoyed kind, like Buffy wanted him to put pieces together, but he hadn't figured it out yet, and whatever it was that she wanted him to know was important. Important and yet, something she thought was silly, stupid, or embarrassing, which is why she wanted him to know it without her having to say it.

"I guess we can send him back." Buffy started to get to her knees, voice tight.

"Slayer, sit down! Gimme a minute to calm down. Mortal terror isn't a good look on me, all right?"

"I never knew you were afraid of puppies."

"I'm not! I'm… I'm terrified of bears."

"Of bears?" Buffy repeated slowly.

"It doesn't come up in everyday conversation does it!?" Spike hated that his voice had just soared up to a very unmanly squeak. "We fight demons and vamps, and entrail-eating, rotting corpses— I can handle those things! Those things are evil and they're supposed to be terrifying!"

"Just gross, Spike." Buffy looked slightly green.

"Bears… bears exist in the world, naturally, just looking all sweet and pudgy in children's television, and then— and then you're helpless and tied to a chair, and there's a nine-foot grizzly in your face with claws like switchblades, and you can't fight, and you— you think that of all the horrible ways to die, you're going to end up eviscerated by the real apex predator. And it'll be furry, and there will be gnawing, and ripping— I need a drink."

Buffy trotted after him, the dog making tiny whimpering noises in the crook of her elbow. "So, wait. You don't hate the dog? You hated it because you thought it was a bear?"

"I don't hate it! It scared me. Startled me! Have you ever seen a bear-baiting, Slayer?"

"No! That's cruel and illegal." Buffy looked horrified.

"Well, it wasn't illegal in Victoria's time. I saw one once, when I was young, just started at Eton. There was a school excursion. We were supposed to be looking at old masters, but on the way to the exhibit, there was a hawker."

"Hawker?"

"Bloke who stands on corners and yells. He was yelling about wild animals performing in the heart of London, lions, bears, monkeys— we were passing and we saw some of the acts, if you can call them acts. One was a bear-baiting." Spike shivered suddenly. He decided that a triple measure of whiskey was in order and shook another portion into his glass.

"That poor bear!" Buffy hugged the yipping bundle closer to her chest.

"That poor bear broke its chain and ate its handler's face off!" Spike drained the glass. "Then it started going off on anything it could reach, roaring in pain and savaging all the men who were rushing around with spiked sticks, trying to subdue it. I don't blame it, I suppose. Getting back at the bullies. Hell, I can even relate… now that I think of it. But back then, a schoolboy…"

"And you were only—"

"Nine! And bloody terrified, and also, just to complete the picture, Slayer, the smallest, weakest, scrawniest little nonce in my year, and likely the whole school. I also had just started wearing glasses, earning the charming nickname of Speccy Pratt. God, I'm just going to finish the bottle. You think Rupes'll mind there's no Glenfiddich for him?"

"Honey, stop. That would terrify me, too!" Buffy inserted herself between Spike and the sideboard where they had set out the alcohol and snacks for the party.

"Oh, I'm not done. The charming older boys at my school decided it would be a lark to push me into the bear's path! If it weren't for some horrified matronly woman in the crowd, I'd have been a little pile of guts on the sidewalk. She yanked me back just as its bloody claws and stinking fur were inches from my face!" He set the bottle down, hands shaking slightly. "Stupid, isn't it? I could probably survive a bear attack now. I could probably outrun it, snap its neck, kick it across the room if I had to…"

"Baby, fears aren't rational. Xander is terrified of clowns. Willow hates frogs. And me… oooh. There's a list."

Buffy put the dog down to embrace her husband.

"Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!" It set up a pitiful whimpering howl at once.

"Poor mite. Slayer, what do we feed this? It's probably hungry. Probably terrified of me, too." Spike bent down to retrieve the pup, chanting, "It's just a dog, it's just a dog, it's just a dog" in his head. "Hey. Sorry about the screaming and flingin' you, mate. Case of mistaken identity." He walked to the kitchen, Buffy following him. "Shhh. Shhh. Gonna find you something to nibble. Buffy, do we have any beef jerky left?" Holding the dog against his chest with one hand, Spike started rummaging in the cabinets with the other.

"Unless you ate it all," she murmured. "I have puppy chow and milk replacer in the car. I didn't get a chance to bring them in, what with all the… yeah. Wow. Of all the breeds in the world I could choose, huh?" she gave a rueful shake of her head.

"You want to hold him and I'll go fetch the stuff from the garage?"

"Nah. He looks happy on you. Look. He settled down."

"Aww. Cute furball. And he matches my outfit." Spike snorted out a laugh as he realized the black fur blended in with his black tee. "You know how to accessorize, Precious."

"Y-you want to keep him?"

Spike blinked. It was Buffy's gift. If she'd given him a snotty tissue, he'd have kept it. "Of course! I'm sorry, Slayer. Nothin' against dogs. Never had one growin' up and often wished I did. My cousins in the country had a whole pack, but not us. Was quite jealous at the time." Spike leaned over and snatched a kiss as Buffy walked to the garage.

And she burst into soft, hiccupy-sounding sobs.

"Oh, bollocks."


Spike had his wife on his lap and the dog at his feet, nibbling wet mushy brown stuff out of a little blue bowl.

She mumbled, twisting her hair in a worried corkscrew around her finger. "So."

"So?"

"So, maybe it's not dumb for other couples, but it's dumb fo us, because hello, we've done death, resurrection, break ups, crazy exes, end of the world, annoying little sisters—"

"Well. We haven't done much in the way of pets." Spike stopped the babble before she pulled her hair out of her head.

"Right. Pets. Dogs, specifically. The 'dog test' is the test before you have kids. You live together before you get married, right? That's the 'shacking up' test."

"There are too many names for these things," Spike grunted.

Buffy went on, undeterred. "You and the hubby have to raise a pet together before you raise a baby. It's a thing. And I… I know we might never, ever have kids, and if we do it won't be in the most traditional sense of the word, but I've been thinking."

All the pieces he was supposed to put into place slotted together, making a very pretty jigsaw indeed. Buffy was still talking about the reasons why this was stupid and unnecessary, and all he could see was a night in a year or two, when it would all make perfect sense.

He and Buffy, walking through Hyde Park as the sun sank, a little pram in front of them, the pup on a leash, following at their heels. Darkness falling, moon rising, baddies creeping forward, swiftly dispatched, maybe by him, maybe by Buffy, and the little one sleeping through it all. And should the baddies be plentiful and the baby be separated from its mum and dad… Spike's eye looked at the round, fluffy form with its snout in the bowl.

The pup transformed in his mind's eye, something black and thick-furred, a cross between bear and dog. A hound, not of hell, but raised by one of it's ex-residents, between his baby and whatever evil lurked in the shadows.

Dawn was the closest thing he'd ever had to a little girl.

He'd face down a thousand bears, and bullies, and childhood traumas for her.

A million more for Buffy's own baby, and maybe… somehow, by miracles, whether by blood or by choice, it would be his baby, too.

Wasn't that what she was yammering about? What this dog was supposed to prove?

"We gotta name him somethin' heroic. Hercules. Bodmin. Dunkirk. Is he mine? Do I get to name him? Have to train it up to be a good protector, but good with kids. Some dogs aren't naturally good with kids, but then again, neither are vampires." He lifted his own eyes, shining like rainwashed sapphires in the dim light of their living room, "But it's amazing what enough love will do, isn't it?"


"Oh my gosh! He's adorable!" Willow released the silvery mylar balloons in the entryway and fell on her knees.

"He's so tiny!" Dawn gasped. "I thought he'd be much bigger by now!"

"He'll be a big 'un in no time." Spike felt the urge to tell all the well-meaning well-wishers to back up a little and stop smothering the little mite. "Not too many people at once. Hey, Luv, he hasn't gone out to uh… check the weather— since you brought him in. Where's his leash?"

"Spike, he can barely wriggle across the room, he doesn't walk on a leash yet. You just have to put him down in the yard and wait. Here, you get everyone a drink and—" Buffy found herself cut off by a blur of vampire and fur.

"No, no. You get everyone sorted out and put the wedding video on. I'll take him out. Be back in a tick. Come on, mate. Want to see the yard? Nice place. Lots of trees, if you know what I mean."

"I call dibs on puppy snuggles when you get back!" Dawn hollered after him. "It was MY connections who got you — oh. Hey, what's his name?"

"Oh. This is Bear."

Spike beamed at his wife and she beamed back, biting her kiss-swollen lower lip with a radiant, half-bashful smile.

He was pretty sure he'd passed the test.

End notes: Thank you for reading! I hope it made you smile! The prompt for this story,given by Pfeifferpack, included that the story be set after Pangs, and provide an explanation for Spike's fear of bears and that no one would mock him for this fear. It was an idea I never would have thought of, and I'm so glad she suggested it!