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.
Willy's resembled a ghost town.
There was not one bar stool, chair or toilet stall that was occupied. The
entire body of patronage was packed into the small open space at the back
door of the tavern, waiting with a collective bated breath for the scheduled
The previous uproar of shouts, hoots and challenges between them as they
had placed their bets and chosen sides now ceased as a total, expectant
silence filled the stench of the maggot-covered, filthy alley.
Logic should have made the wager uninteresting in the given that any cat going
up against a simple mouse would walk away victorious with mouse fur stuck
between the cat's teeth, but this was Spike's mouse and threw a world of
unknowns into the equation.
It was a well-documented fact. Spike did not make a bet he had any chance
of losing. That, coupled with a bar tab that found him temporarily financially
embarrassed, and the other demons knew this was not to be a simple showing
of a new fangled mouse trap.
Spike had something nefarious up the sleeve of his duster.
Puss was crouched in the center of the alley facing the mob of intruders. His
yellow slitted eyes glowed menacingly in the moonlight. A fishstick had lured
him from hiding, but the second his eyes locked on the lively, wiggling mouse in
the man's hand, Puss lost all interest in what Mrs. Paul had to offer.
His throat rattled with a guttural sound that started as a low rowl and ended in
an ear-burning yeow that demanded the mouse be handed over for torture and
Spike grinned. He kissed Luffton affectionately on the top of the head and with
no further ado, he tossed.
The physical transformation that the first time had been awkward and painful
now felt natural and instinctive. Luffton strained and aimed himself for the cat's
mouth and in the quick blink that it took him to get there, his fangs dropped, his
claws extended and his entire body seemed to be covered with an armadillo-like
armor of bone.
Puss braced himself. His mouthful of razor-sharp teeth dropped open and he
waited for the free delivery meal to drop onto his tongue. Of course he wouldn't
kill it right away. No, he would just bite down hard enough to snap its backbone,
rendering it immobile yet fully alert. Then he would take his time. He would
bat it around a bit. Smack it like a ball of yarn as its fear and pain ramped to
impossible levels and its squeaks of agony filled the night air. It would be an
exquisite game of, well, Puss and mouse. His feline body shuddered with joy
as he waited.
The alley suddenly exploded in a burst of frenzied activity. Empty beer cans flew
up into the air, garbage swirled in a tornado of dirt, filth and undefinable debris
that everyone noted contained chunks of brown fur, although its origin was a
matter of erratic debate.
Adding to the confusion of the blurred fracas was the sound of cat screams, mouse
shrieks and cheers from the onlookers shouting encouragement to the participant
that carried each demon's money on their back. Like gladiators in the Coliseum,
the spectators shouted out to them, calling for blood and astonished that the mouse
was still wearing its head on its shoulders.
The demons with cash wagered on the cat were beginning to sweat.
When the two combatants rolled down and slammed into the dumpster at the far
end of the alley, the mob of revelers rushed to follow, fearing they may miss even
one second of the excitement let alone the final assault.
Spike casually accompanied them. He knew it was almost over.
Finally, after what was actually only minutes but seemed much longer, all noise
and activity stopped. Clumped into a pack, the demons fell silent as they pressed
in tightly and waited for some indication of the outcome. The corner of the alley
where it had all ended was pitch dark and even the species with enhanced vision
found it hard to see.
Tentatively, Jerry, an older Ger-e-atic demon, eased closer. He picked up a
stick from the ground and he poked back into the blackness of the spot behind
the dumpster where possibly two dead creatures had breathed their last.
Immediately he screamed and leapt away as the stick was snatched from his
hand and the two broken parts tossed back in his face. The crowd gasped and
took two giant steps backward.
With a chuckle, Spike decided that he had drawn the suspense out as long as was
necessary and he made his way through the center of the pack. When he reached
the dumpster, he gave a short whistle and Luffton, no worse for the wear, trotted
proudly from the dark and waited to be picked up.
Directly behind him, Puss staggered out and collapsed. One ear had been bitten off
and the tip of his tail was missing. He was a patchwork of gouged flesh and ripped
out hair. When he opened his mouth to yeowl in pain and self-pity, it was clear that
his fangs had been neatly extracted.
As the irrefutability of the situation became obvious, the mob exploded and
both sides shouted, stunned and amazed. The few that had put money on Spike
and his incredible mouse began calculating their winnings. Backs were slapped
and heads were shaken in astonishment as they all filed back into Willy's to drink
and relive in vivid detail the most incredible thing any of them could remember.
Now alone in the alley, Spike squatted down and he extended his hand for his
precious Luffton to climb aboard. When he did, Spike lifted him up to the level
of his face so he could get a good look at his childe mouse. He looked him all
up and down to assure himself that no damage had been done, all the time
cooing and speaking in soft, affectionate tones.
"What a good little mouse you are. You make your sire so proud. Is my wittle
Wuffton all right. Did the mean old cat hurt my wittle Wuffton?"
Luffton wiggled happily before leaping from Spike's hand to land in his spot on
his master's shoulder. This had been the most fun he had ever had and, naturally,
he owed it all to his wonderful sire. Luffton sighed in contentment and curled
up as he and Spike turned to go back inside, victorious.
ALL HAIL THE CONQUERING HERO!
When the winning team returned to the light and excitement of the bar, they were
rushed from all sides. Even the losers who had wrongly put their money where
Puss's mouth was, were exuberant.
Knowing this legendary evening would assure a heightened revenue for months
to come, Willy laughed and he cleared Spike's tab from the books as he set up
the first round on the house for him.
Spike was given the bar stool of honor. He puffed with pride as every demon
there congratulated him and heaped words of praise on his miraculous mouse.
He tipped the first of many beers and, with a smile on his face and a song in his
heart, Spike proceeded to get royally shit-faced.