CREATURES OF THE NIGHT
by perletwo

Buffy was taking a shortcut across the rooftops at the docks, looking for signs of vamp activity without being detected herself. The vamps had heard the Slayer was working extra patrols lately...giving in to a compulsion to hunt.

And they'd responded accordingly, setting up a system of lookouts and relays to check her movements. She'd been livid when she realized what they were doing, a bolt of white-hot rage shooting through her nervous system. What made it worse was hearing Spike's sardonic voice in her head, saying, {{So what did you think, Slayer? They'd just stand still an' *let* you stake 'em?}}

Unfortunately, their plan seemed to be working out better than hers that night. Then the wind shifted up her direction, carrying with it a familiar North London accent, voice pitched low and wheedling.

"Com'on naiow mates...we 'ad a deal, din't we?"

Buffy peered over the edge of the rooftop in the direction of the voice. Spike was squatting down just outside the shadows at the back of the alley, back to her. Deeper in the shadows she could make out the yellowish glow of several pairs of eyes.

"I 'elp you find enough prey to support yourselves, you 'elp me out wi' wot I need..." He was holding his body utterly still, Buffy noticed, and keeping the pairs of eyes entranced with his own. "You *know* you can't take proper care of 'em, Mum, there's too much competition f'r small game 'round these parts...Why not let me take 'em off y'r paws?"

The shine from the largest pair of eyes wavered, blinked and withdrew a little deeper into the shadows. Straining her Slayer hearing to the limit, Buffy picked up a faint, mournful mewl.

"Thaaat's the spirit, Mum..." Spike crooned, and the smaller pairs of eyes moved hesitantly closer.

Just then the wind shifted in the opposite direction, and Buffy cursed silently. Both Spike and the largest animal's heads came up, nostrils flared, checking the wind. Then a high-pitched yowl split the night air and a flurry of motion broke the shadows as the cats fled.

"BOLLOCKS!"

The Slayer leapt gracefully down from her rooftop, landing in the alleyway in a crouch. Spike rose up further on his haunches and leaned into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, breathing her in.

"Vanilla, glycerine soap an' ashes. D'ya think you could find anything subtler to announce your presence, Slayer? Maybe sound off one'a those air horns in a can?"

With a filthy glare at the vampire, Buffy stood, and Spike followed. Her arms crossed over her chest. He countered with hands on hips, arms akimbo. They glared at each other in silence for a long moment, then Buffy huffed out a deep breath in frustration. "What d'you think you're doing, Spike?"

"Tryin' to clean up my reputation as a gambler, Slayer." He gestured to the back of the alley. "Feral colony. Wild cats, livin' in the alley an' under the foundation of this buildin'. I've been workin' for weeks on gettin' 'em to trust me. Thanks a heap."

"Get them to trust you so you can feed their kittens to your demon buddies, you mean."

Spike pulled up a loose crate and sat down. "Not all of 'em, Buffy. Take a look at the ecosystem in Sunnydale sometime, there's a helluva lot more predators than prey 'round here. Cats set up a colony like this 'stead'a tryin' to find shelter with the humans, like semi-domesticated cats would, they expect t'have some casualties in their population. They're practical animals, pet. Creatures of the night."

"So you're just helping them out by thinning the herd all at once, instead of leaving them to take their chances?" she sneered.

"I try not to break up the basic structure of the colony, if I can help it. And if they're willin' to trust me some, I do what I can as their Alpha - bring 'em prey, run off predators, try to make a showin' of this bein' my territory."

One eyebrow cocked up angrily. "So they can breed unchecked some more, and give you more of a gambling stake? Yeah, you're all heart, Spike."

"They're *cats,* luv. It's their nature. An' besides -" He broke off, looking uncertain. Finally he stood and extended a hand to her. "C'mon. Walk wi' me a minute, Slayer. I wanna show you somethin'."

Her head tilted to one side as she considered. Finally she took his hand and warily let him lead her out of the alleyway and down a few blocks.

Smiling to himself, Spike wondered if she was aware they had a shadow following them.
"Okaaay. It's the old factory you and Dru used to nest in. Big deal." Her arms crossed over her chest again. "It's not like it's ever going to be livable again, after Giles burned you out of it."

"Not to anything human, maybe," Spike replied. "Look inside. *Quietly.*"

He cracked open a soaped-over window the tiniest bit, and as Buffy leaned down to look inside a wet pink nose and two dime-sized furry gray paws began squeezing into the minuscule space, claws biting into the wood. As it squirmed and cried piteously, she could see the mischievous gleam in tiny green-gold eyes.

Spike reached around her and gave it a gentle poke, and it yelped as it tumbled off the windowsill. She looked through the crack again, and saw the factory's walls were now lined with chicken-wire bound cat runs, with ledges and beds and toys inside them. Makeshift litter pans were scattered everywhere.

The building's beams and girders and catwalks had been reinforced, and felines of every age and description wandered freely around the room. A row of feeding stations dispensed dry cat food and water along one wall, and a row of ozone machines hummed in place of the factory's old ventilation system.

"A cattery? You're running a cattery? This is where you're getting your poker stakes?" He squirmed, embarrassed.

"Not exactly, pet. It's more like a retirement home, not a breeding facility. Some of 'em I got to move in here from colonies like the one you just saw. Some of 'em're strays that got away from their homes; some are strays that got *thrown* outta their homes. You humans aren't always the best'a pet parents, y'know." She looked away, tapped her foot.

"And some of 'em I got when I busted up a demon cat breeding racket up in Anaheim. You wouldn't believe what miserable conditions they were keepin' those poor things in. They were in cages so tight they couldn't hardly turn around, even. They'd start breedin' the females the minute they came into season, over an' over before they'd had a chance to recover from havin' one litter..." He shook his head at the memory.

"There's one girl in there that just fawned all over me right from the first minute, she was so thrilled to be outta there. An' there's another one from the same house I *still* can't get to stop cowerin' in a corner every time I go in here to take care of 'em." He sighed. "So don't tell me I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to these animals, Slayer. It's not an ideal existence, but I do what I can to make up for what I take away from 'em."

"Uh huh. Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure. OWW-tch!" Buffy screeched and jumped suddenly. Looking down, she saw a flash of matted orange fur fly away and disappear as blood welled from the deep claw marks on her ankle and shin. "What the HELL?!" She looked up, and furious, realized Spike was grinning at her. She growled, and he just laughed and shut the window.

"C'mon, luv. Let's go get that cleaned up. Then you meet me back here tomorrow night at -" he grabbed her wrist and turned it to check her watch, which read 11:45. "- 11:15, and maybe you'll see what that was all about."

She yanked her elbow free of his hand as she limped off alongside him, muttering darkly all the way.
The next night, Buffy dragged out her patrol as long as possible, looking for excuses not to meet him. But the vamps weren't cooperating; they seemed to be staying indoors. After her fifth pass around the area, she sighed and headed to the old factory.

"Right on time, pet. C'mon inside an' meet my mates, why don't you?" Spike opened a back door to a cramped office for her, and once the door to the outside was firmly secured he led her out onto the shop floor. A loud group yowl accompanied their footfalls.

They hadn't gone six feet out into the room before Buffy was besieged by a dozen fluffy kittens, mewling and testing their attack skills, looking for something new to play with, while Spike's ankles were bound up by the sinuous motions of a half-dozen older cats. Unsure what else to do, she dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged and let the tiny creatures scramble over her lap and up her chest and shoulders, kneading her flesh and purring.

Meanwhile, Spike knelt and greeted each senior animal in turn, letting each take in his scent and rub their own over him, and putting out a hand for each to headbutt affectionately. He smiled when he looked over her way and realized the baby animals' natural charms were making the Slayer melt, but she was too preoccupied to notice. Then he stood and walked over to check the food and water bowls and began putting out fresh litter pans, simply scooping the used tinfoil roasting pans whole into a trash bin.

"Why, ah -" Buffy paused to bat a tiny paw out of her mouth as she spoke."Why doesn't it, ah -"

"Smell?" Spike pointed upward at the row of ozone generators. "Those. The insurance guys installed 'em after the fire so the building wouldn't stink up the whole block with the wet soot. They worked, so I kept 'em."

"I'd rather not know how you worked that out," she said with a shudder, nearly dislodging a black-and-white tuxedo kitten from her shoulder. "Do they have names?"

He shrugged. "Not really. Nicknames, more like. It's not like they answer to 'em, it's more a way for me to keep 'em straight in my 'ead."

A large, glossy Siamese had climbed up onto his shoulders and wound itself around his neck. He scratched its ears and chin and talked to it a few minutes, then crouched down by a chair and crooned. Buffy could just make out a tiny bit of movement in the dark corner before Spike sighed and gave up, walking back to her.

"This is Livy, pet, she's the li'l cuddler I was tellin' you about last night, from the Anaheim breeder," he said, taking her hand and bringing it gently up to the Siamese's nose. When she'd sniffed carefully and butted her head into Buffy's hand, purring at the caress, he continued.

"An' that over there in the corner is Sybil. She's the other one I mentioned last night. I can't seem to do much with 'er, I'm afraid, but at least she's pretty much safe. I don't think she could cope out in the wild." Livy butted her head up under his chin comfortingly at the sad tone in his voice.

"I thought cats just naturally did well in the wild," Buffy said quietly.

"Not really. They have the equipment an' the instincts, but they have to be taught everything, right from birth. I've been watchin' the mums do for their kits here ever since I set this up, an' I've seen it over an' over again. They teach 'em to hunt an' kill an' take care of each other. Left alone, they don't do it on their own. Some'a the ones that came in here as singles took a long time to socialize with the other cats."

"It's a nice setup," she admitted. "I just wish I didn't know that a demon poker pot was waiting for them at the end."

"Not for all of 'em, pet. They come into the world wi'out askin' to an' they take their chances at life," he said, standing and offering her a hand. "Just like the rest of us. Human, demon, vampire, slayer...no guarantees for any'a us."

She stood, and they both occupied themselves unhooking needle-sharp kitten claws from her clothing. Then they made their way back into the alley, carefully making sure no fleet-footed cats escaped along with them.
"So what is this supposed to prove? That you're not such a bad guy after all? That I should fall into your arms and beg you to take care of me like you do the cats?" she asked.

"I dunno. Just, that the world's not as simple a place as you like to think, maybe? That you don't know everything about me - hardly *anything* about me, in fact? That creatures of the night operate in a whole different way than you daytime risers?"

She sighed. "I just - HEY!" Buffy jumped as she felt something warm and squishy land on her boot, and saw another flash of orange streaking into the shadows. Looking down, she saw a matted animal hardly larger than a medium-sized rodent squirming around on her boot, kneading the leather and trying to suckle at its pointed toe. "What the hell?!"

Spike laughed gently. "Told you we'd see what that cat was up to. I think you've just adopted a baby, Slayer."

"WHAT?! I - I -" The newborn was mewling and squinting, and Spike knelt, pulling her down to the ground along with him. He pulled a small bottle of milk and an eyedropper out of his duster pocket and passed them to her.

"It's too new to feed solids, luv, you'll have to nurse it along wi' these awhile," he said.

"But - but I - I don't know -" He took the items back from her and drew a syringeful of milk into the glass tube, put it back in her hand and held her hand out to the kitten, which sniffed her hand carefully and began suckling gingerly. "Why can't *you* do it? And - how'd you know?"

"I can't do it 'cause it thinks you're it's Mum, Slayer, not me. I've seen ferals do that clawin' number Mum did on you last night before, it's a sign of great respect, believe it or not. So I figured she'd bring one back here to you tonight."

"Why does it think I'm its mom? Just because the cat dropped it on me?" She put out a tentative finger to stroke the cat's fur.

"Not real sure, but my best guess is, she scratched you up either to dose you up wi' her scent, or to carry your scent back to the nest to conceal her own scent. Either way it'd get used to thinkin' of you as its Mum. Don't really know, though; there's some things these critters just won't let you see, no matter how much they trust you. They *are* cats, after all." He grinned. "Think Dawn'd like a pet?"

"Love one. Will she take care of it? Now, that's a different story." Buffy giggled when the kitten let the eyedropper pop out of its mouth with a contented sigh.

"She's more careful of the beings she loves than you might think, Slayer. I started noticin' it after Joyce died," he said, standing again. "Let me get you a starter kit from in there, you guys can hit a pet store an' a vet in the mornin'. Wrap the baby up in your sweater to carry, all right?"

"I must be out of my mind," she said, and turning back he realized she was addressing the kitten, not him. "See what comes of hanging out with vampires?"

But he noticed she smiled all the way home.