Paring: S/X, AU
Rating: Adult NC17 for language and M/M sexual content.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing including the characters and
products named in this story.
Warnings: Sex, violence and character death. Yes, the mouse
Summary: This story is a followup to Mouse but it is not necessary
to have read it. Xander brings Spike home to kill a mouse.
The mouse escaped and Spike stayed for the fun, games
and conflicts that S/X always get up to. One night Spike
gets more than a little drunk and does something stupid.
Comments: The last few stories have been drama and trauma. I felt
we needed some lighthearted fluff, comedy and stupidity.
Thanks to: Petxnd for her preread and suggestions and to Silk Labyrinth
for her betaing of boo boos. It should be noted that if any
irregularities remain it is due to the Bee's bullheadedness.
By the time Spike had reached the Sunnydale city limits sign, he had at least
made one firm decision regarding his new and interesting situation, and that
decision was that no decision that important should be made sober.
So, together he and Luffton headed for Willy's for a pint or ten and a bit of
harmless distraction. His mind drifted momentarily to the apartment and he
wondered if Xander was slouched on the couch, wearing his sweats and eating
the last of the Cracker Jack? It was an image that made the vampire smile.
Although it was only nine, the street that led to Willy's was already nearly
deserted. No human would venture down to this part of town. Too many
odd happenings for their tastes. Even lesser demons knew trouble when
they smelled it. For Spike it was the odor of roses in springtime.
With a newfound confidence, Spike slapped the door open and strode in.
He marched up to the back, smacked his hand down and ordered a beer.
Willy continued to dry his shot glasses. He glanced Spike's way but made
no move to comply.
Spike scowled and again shouted.
"Gimme a fucking beer and make it fast. Thirsty vampire here."
Willy rolled his eyes. He had heard the same rumors that the rest of the
demon community had been whispering about. Spike was not all a man/
vamp should be. Allusions were made regarding his fang virility. Still, that
was not the entire reason that he made no immediate move to serve.
When he did walk over and lean one hand against the bar top, he huffed.
"Forget it, Spike. You still owe me nearly fifty bucks on a tab that ain't seen
no payments for weeks. You want a drink? Let me see the color of your
Spike hopped up on the bar stool and a sly smile crept across his lips.
"Tell you what, mate, how about we settle the tab and a few beers more
on the outcome of a simple wager. I win, you serve. I lose and you can
double what I owe."
Willy studied Spike's face to try and read the validity of the offer. He knew
an agreement was foolish, but the bartender was intrigued. So were several of
the others in the room who had overheard the deal and wanted more information
before deciding if they wanted a piece of the action.
"Weeelll. I ain't sayin' yes and I ain't sayin' no but I may be up for some details.
What sort of wager you got in mind?"
Spike knew he was only moments away from all the alcohol he could consume.
Not only that, but tonight just may be one of those times that gets talked about
for years. Spike's reputation was about to be elevated to hero status.
But he had to play it cool. He needed to check himself with his best poker
face and not play his hand too soon. With that in mind, he appeared to be
rethinking the advisability of making such a brash offer. He batted his eyes
and glanced around the room as though hoping no one else had overheard his
When he was sure he had the ear of everything in the bar, including some of those
that didn't actually have ears, Spike dove in.
"Right then. You still got that big old cat living out in the back alley?"
Willy nodded his head in confusion. That was not a question he would have
"Um, yeah. Old Puss is still there. I gives him scraps everyday but he lives
mostly on critters he catches and kills. Why? Oh no, Spike, if you are thinkin'
of killin' a cat to pay your tab, forget it. Damn, man, that's fucked up."
"Nope. Got better."
Spike calmly reached up under his shirt and extracted the small mouse he had
hidden there, and he plunked the rodent down on the bar top. Immediately
Willy jumped back and he pointed at the mouse in outrage.
"Hey! Get that fucking thing outta here. I runs a clean place and I don't allow
no rats or mice in here."
Spike, along with every other patron in the bar, paused in obvious confusion
as they looked all around to assure themselves that they really were in Willy's.
Finally, even Willy himself had to concede the absurdity of the statement.
"Yeah, OK. So what's the deal with the mouse?"
Spike squiggled his butt around happily on the round stool and, with a raised
voice so no one would miss this, he explained the simple wager.
"Here's the deal. I'm betting that my mouse can kick the shit out of your cat.
A fair fight. One on one and no interference. They meet in the alley and
whoever comes out is the winner. If my mouse wins, you clear my tab and
I drink tonight for free. Your cat wins and I owe you double. What do you
By now, every other demon in the bar had given up the pretense of not being
interested in the bizarre wager that was being proposed. They clustered around
the two men and waited with bated breath to see if Willy would accept the
wild and outlandish bet.
Willy knew he had a goldmine within his grasp. The result of this bet was
almost unimportant. First, there was no way this mouse would survive five
minutes with Puss, but beyond that, this was the type of legendary wager that
would bring demons in and spending money in his tavern for weeks.
"Well, I must say. That is interesting. One mouse and one cat, right? Your
mouse with no help or interference from you goes uno a uno with Puss the cat.
That's it? No hooks or crooks?"
Spike appeared almost distracted as he poked his mouse, causing the creature
to roll over on his back and kick all four little legs in the air, happily wiggling
and squeaking as his master tickled his tummy. It elicited more than one
ooo and ahhh from the cluster of demons behind him.
Finally, when he felt the stage was thoroughly set, he scooped his mouse up
and gave a short nod of his head.
Willy slapped a free beer down in front of Spike and announced:
The entire bar exploded in a raucous excitement. Artie Z, the bookie, set up a table
near the back door to the alley and he began accepting fistfuls of cash as the bets
and wagering flew fast and frantic. Within minutes, the odds were heavily in Puss's
When he had decided that the atmosphere was at its peak, Spike downed the last
swallow. He then quietly whispered loving encouragement in Luffton's ear.
Although the mouse could not understand the words, Spike knew the spirit of
the pep talk was clearly understood.
With grand panache and an air of drama, Spike rose to his feet. A hush fell over
the crowd and as he moved through, the mob split in two, like Moses parting the
Red Sea, to make room for him to pass. Artie sat happily counting the take and
noting the numbers on a tip slip, calculating his percentage.
When Spike arrived at the back door, he kicked it open and stepped outside
into the cool night air. Behind him, a rush of every sort of demon imaginable
all jammed the opening, trying to assure themselves a spot to witness the
Spike looked in all directions but saw no Puss. He then shouted back over
Quickly, Willy shoved aside the spectators and handed Spike a chunk of deep-fried
fishstick which Spike then tossed into the alley. Almost immediately a trash
can at the far side of the dead-end alley rattled, and from the shadows lunged the
biggest, mangiest, most evil-looking cat any of them had ever seen.
A gasp went up from the crowd and before anyone could express concern, Spike
lifted the mouse to his lips, gave him a kiss on the head and with no further
warning, tossed him directly towards the waiting fangs of the ferocious feline.