The Sorrowful Tale of Miss Kitty Fantastico - Ch.10: Spike,Dawn,Clem
TITLE: The Sorrowful Tale of Miss Kitty Fantastico - Ch.10: by myfeetshowit
Characters: Spike,Dawn,Clem
Summary: Buffy is dead and Dawn’s fifteenth birthday is coming up. A penniless Spike wants to get her the greatest present ever. It proves to be harder than he expected. He encounters kittens, and Clem and nosehairs and learns some valuable lessons about life.
Rating: PG for swearing
Warnings/Notes: A Sunnydale version of a Victorian Morality Play. Inspired by Kipling’s ‘Just So’ stories and served with a side dish of Dr. Seuss. A mixture of humor, angst, and reflection upon the foibles of a vampire who wants to be a good man.
Mr. Spike feels foolish and decides to act like the vampire he is. But is he that vampire anymore?
TSTOMKF 10
There is much discussion among experts of the supernatural concerning the dual face of the vampire, the fiercely fanged and the human facial features. Prevailing thought suggests that the human semblance, the manifestation of the person who was killed, is but a façade - a charade that the vampire is able to don as though a partygoer at a masquerade. They would have it that the true vampire is showing when the animal eyes, misshapen ridges and jutting jagged teeth are front and foremost.
Be that as it may, Mr. Spike was most often found in human face. It was his wont when with other vampires to become vampiric when he wished to mingle or impress and always when he wished to intimidate.
At other times, almost without exception, he retained his human features and so we should not be surprised that even now, when he was on the edge of panic, when anger held him in its grip, when he once again saw his dreams evaporating, his face was human, his expression morphed only by frustration and anger and despair.
Mr. Spike flagellated himself with harsh thought, feeling ashamed at his behavior. He had allowed himself to be distracted by a 'kitten'. He had tried to do things like a white hat and this was the result. b'Huh - behaving in proper demon fashion - had kept his eye sharp for the occasion, had stepped in and taken advantage of Spike's weakness. Spike's anger with b'Huh was nothing compared to his anger at himself. He held little rancor at b'Huh for stealing the money - this was something any good demon would do - but rather he hated b'Huh for the humiliation his action caused.
A resolution formed in Mr. Spike's heart and it was not to avoid the demon rum, scotch, bourbon or tequila but rather to avoid undemonlike behavior Like a child who expects a reward for good behavior, Mr. Spike now felt betrayed by fortune and decided that if he were to accomplish his goal, he would once again need to fall back on old competencies.
A vampire's nervous system does not function like a human's, it being comprised of magickal energy and every nerve in a vampire's body is designed to vibrate with violence, to flood the vampire with fury and send him careening into a frenzy of bloodshed. Mr. Spike had learned to keep this pulsating urge pushed to the back of his mind lest he be carried away and attack a human. He now let it bleed forth, let the fury feed on his mind and let himself be devoured. His mind burned with a clear crystal flame. He felt good.
Feeling now on familiar ground, feeling energized, feeling strong, he considered his options.
Forget the kitten, find b'Huh - choke the bastard on some of the smaller bills in the stash.
Forget b'Huh, find the kitten - hope she was still alive, and convince the cat-worshipers Mafdet was killed before he and Clem were paid.
Forget it all - just go steal a crossbow like he should have in the first place.
No, stealing a crossbow wasn't enough now. He'd do that only if the other two scenarios failed - settling with b'Huh was now a priority. Violence was now a priority. It was possible that b'Huh and the kitten were together but he couldn't count on it. He needed to focus on one and hope for the other. Despite his desire to find b'Huh he decided on a last minute search for the kitten before he left the vicinity of the 'Fish Tank'.
Mr. Spike now paid no heed to anything he saw or anything he scented, and he banished all thought. He pooled all his senses into one, becoming oblivious to all but his auditory awareness.
His efforts were rewarded when he heard a whisper, a sigh. He knew it was not the kitten but neither was it anything else he could account for. He did not question, putting curiosity aside, and he concentrated on the whisper. The whisper took shape, became a voice and Mr. Spike realized with a start that the whisper was coming from Miss Mafdet. She was still alive!
Mr. Clem and Mr. Spike knelt carefully beside Miss Mafdet's still form, both leaning close, then closer to heed her thready whisper. Her voice was little more than a breath.
"... ring ..."
"Who did this? b'Huh? The bartender?"
"no... stink... "
"Did b'Huh take the kitten?"
"no..." Miss Mafdet's chest shuddered slightly. "Ring!"
Miss Mafdet's last sound was gasped as though the wounded creature poured her remaining life's essence into the single word, as though her last thought was to convey the importance of that word, and having spoken the word - ring - she spoke no more nor would she ever again.
Having thought before that Miss Mafdet was dead, Mr. Spike and Mr. Clem remained at her side for long moments asking their questions in the vain hope that she would rally. She gave no evidence of life - no movement, no heartbeat, no breath, but neither had she when first they stumbled across her and they believed it possible that she would once again show signs of life. They could not wait with patience for long however. Thoughts of b'Huh and their money gave them a sense of urgency that would not be stilled. Mr. Clem spoke first.
"She mentioned a ring. Think I remember seeing one earlier." He lifted Miss Mafdet, not without some consideration, and Mr. Spike examined her paw-like hands.
"Yeah, see it. Don't look anything special." Mr. Spike removed the ring and held it up for scrutiny. "Some kind of writing inside. Can't make it out." Mr. Spike did not protest when Mr. Clem took the ring but continued searching Miss Mafdet.
"I don't know how to read this but I've seen this script at Ordinary Joe's tattoo parlor- he's the oracle for Mafdet's clan. You find anything else?"
"No. Must be the one. Think it's worth anything?"
Mr. Clem seemed surprised at the question but he examined the ring closely before answering. "Not for the stones. I think we should take it to Ordinary Joe. He might know something about it."
"Yeah and meanwhile, b'Huh's off to Brazil and a life of ease on my money."
"Our money." If Mr. Clem's voice seemed a bit frosty it was lost on the fuming vampire.
"No sense flogging a dead horse - or cat. We can deal with the ring later. I'm after b'Huh." Mr. Spike stood with abruptness. His hands moved over and over in a curious spasmodic motion as though he were squeezing something between them, something large and soft and muscular, something that resembled the neck of a bull-like demon. Now that Miss Mafdet was no longer a source of information he was eager to move, to do, to hunt. When Mr. Clem spoke and attracted his attention he found it annoying. He stayed and he listened but he wondered about the taste and color of Mr. Clem's blood.
"You know, Mafdet wanted us to have this ring. It must mean something..."
"Yeah, yeah. Probably from her sweetheart... there's no time. You do what you want." Mr. Spike turned to go even as he spoke.
"Mafdet'sclanmightpayustotrackdownthekitten." Mr. Clem knew his audience and was well aware that he must speak fast or lose Mr. Spike's attention. The vampire might have treated him with unusual consideration earlier, and his attachment to the kitten might have seemed sweet, but this vampire that stood before him now exhibited no trace of such atypical behavior. The blue eyes that bore into his with such cold consideration belonged to a killer.
At least Mr. Spike was still listening.
"If we take the ring to Ordinary Joe's then we can offer to track down the kitten. Make them p-pay." Mr. Clem's nervousness grew. Mr. Spike was eyeing him as though he were a minion and vampires were not noted for their kindness to their minions. "Look, it just seems like a long shot going after b'Huh if you can't even get his scent. It may not pay as well but if we go with the ring we might end up with something."
Mr. Spike stood for a few moments contemplating his hands, which were still squeezing as though trying out the throttling of b'Huh, testing to see how it would feel. Mr. Clem was not surprised when Mr. Spike shook his head in disagreement.
"No. It'd give b'Huh too much time to get away. We'll separate - you go see the ordinary bloke and I'll look for b'Huh. He's probably headed for the docks so I'm goin' in that direction unless I can pick up his scent."
Mr. Clem spoke now with uncharacteristic bravado - strangely enough because he was afraid. He was afraid of Mr. Spike's escalating vampire mode and he was afraid he would end up with no money at all. He didn't have Mr. Spike's hunting capabilities and he wasn't sure he could trace the kitten on his own. He didn't believe Mr. Spike had much chance of finding b'Huh but if he did Mr. Clem intended to be present. Any trust he had in Mr. Spike was now gone. "Hey. Half that money's mine. How do I know you won't just take it and run?"
The look that Mr. Spike gave Mr. Clem bore a decided resemblance to the look that a hungry bird gives to a tasty worm. He had not thought of taking Mr. Clem's share of the goods previously but he did now and he did not find the idea unappealing. A thought sparkled in his crystal clear mind, the thought that he could kill Mr. Clem right here and now and keep all the money for himself. His crystal clear logic applauded the thought - he could kill, he should kill. Then an image of Mr. Clem hamming up the role of the kitten-eating monster appeared in his head and his crystal clarity briefly dimmed. He shook his head - he didn't have time for this.
Mr. Clem saw the sliver of softness briefly reflected in Mr. Spike's eyes - thankfully for his own peace of mind he did not guess at the surrounding thoughts that accompanied it. Seeing the change, the momentary chink in the vampire armor, he suddenly comprehended the correct argument, knew what to say, knew how to sway Mr. Spike to his own way of thinking.
"You know Dawn'll be real sad about the kitten..."
"Dawn... Dawn will never - know - about - the kitten." Mr. Spike's cold, clear anger was flash-flooded with a rush of resentment. How dare Clem bring Dawn into this?
"S'pose so. You know she's gonna ask about her, though. Well, she seemed pretty nice - I'm sure she'll understand why you had to go after b'Huh instead."
Mr. Spike gritted his teeth as Mr. Clem continued. "You know, we could head toward Ordinary Joe's tattoo parlor and you could keep your sniffer goin' - if you pick up b'Huh's scent we go for it, otherwise, we could see what's the what with the ring... and he is an oracle. Ordinary Joe. If the clan won't pay up maybe he could help us - for a cut."
The logic of Mr. Clem's arguments warred with the logic of the vampire bloodlust that burned in Mr. Spike's veins. Mr. Clem was making sense but Mr. Spike did not want sense. He wanted blood. He wanted to bash and slash and make things bleed. Mr. Clem wanted Mr. Spike to be weak. See how things went instead of making things happen. Ask for help instead of demanding it.
But Mr. Spike knew that Miss Dawn would ask about the kitten and he did not lie to Miss Dawn. She would ask and he would tell her and he would get the look. If he didn't get the crossbow he would get the look. If he got the crossbow he would still get the look. He was going to have to try and find the kitten.
Mr. Spike decided if he were going to do things the 'right' way he might as well do them right. "Let's take Mafdet into the 'Fish Tank.' We can put her into cold storage - clan might want her body. With all the booze flowing there won't be anyone sober enough to bother it."
Mr. Clem blinked and then he smiled and he helped Mr. Spike carry the body inside.
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Characters: Spike,Dawn,Clem
Summary: Buffy is dead and Dawn’s fifteenth birthday is coming up. A penniless Spike wants to get her the greatest present ever. It proves to be harder than he expected. He encounters kittens, and Clem and nosehairs and learns some valuable lessons about life.
Rating: PG for swearing
Warnings/Notes: A Sunnydale version of a Victorian Morality Play. Inspired by Kipling’s ‘Just So’ stories and served with a side dish of Dr. Seuss. A mixture of humor, angst, and reflection upon the foibles of a vampire who wants to be a good man.
Mr. Spike feels foolish and decides to act like the vampire he is. But is he that vampire anymore?
TSTOMKF 10
There is much discussion among experts of the supernatural concerning the dual face of the vampire, the fiercely fanged and the human facial features. Prevailing thought suggests that the human semblance, the manifestation of the person who was killed, is but a façade - a charade that the vampire is able to don as though a partygoer at a masquerade. They would have it that the true vampire is showing when the animal eyes, misshapen ridges and jutting jagged teeth are front and foremost.
Be that as it may, Mr. Spike was most often found in human face. It was his wont when with other vampires to become vampiric when he wished to mingle or impress and always when he wished to intimidate.
At other times, almost without exception, he retained his human features and so we should not be surprised that even now, when he was on the edge of panic, when anger held him in its grip, when he once again saw his dreams evaporating, his face was human, his expression morphed only by frustration and anger and despair.
Mr. Spike flagellated himself with harsh thought, feeling ashamed at his behavior. He had allowed himself to be distracted by a 'kitten'. He had tried to do things like a white hat and this was the result. b'Huh - behaving in proper demon fashion - had kept his eye sharp for the occasion, had stepped in and taken advantage of Spike's weakness. Spike's anger with b'Huh was nothing compared to his anger at himself. He held little rancor at b'Huh for stealing the money - this was something any good demon would do - but rather he hated b'Huh for the humiliation his action caused.
A resolution formed in Mr. Spike's heart and it was not to avoid the demon rum, scotch, bourbon or tequila but rather to avoid undemonlike behavior Like a child who expects a reward for good behavior, Mr. Spike now felt betrayed by fortune and decided that if he were to accomplish his goal, he would once again need to fall back on old competencies.
A vampire's nervous system does not function like a human's, it being comprised of magickal energy and every nerve in a vampire's body is designed to vibrate with violence, to flood the vampire with fury and send him careening into a frenzy of bloodshed. Mr. Spike had learned to keep this pulsating urge pushed to the back of his mind lest he be carried away and attack a human. He now let it bleed forth, let the fury feed on his mind and let himself be devoured. His mind burned with a clear crystal flame. He felt good.
Feeling now on familiar ground, feeling energized, feeling strong, he considered his options.
Forget the kitten, find b'Huh - choke the bastard on some of the smaller bills in the stash.
Forget b'Huh, find the kitten - hope she was still alive, and convince the cat-worshipers Mafdet was killed before he and Clem were paid.
Forget it all - just go steal a crossbow like he should have in the first place.
No, stealing a crossbow wasn't enough now. He'd do that only if the other two scenarios failed - settling with b'Huh was now a priority. Violence was now a priority. It was possible that b'Huh and the kitten were together but he couldn't count on it. He needed to focus on one and hope for the other. Despite his desire to find b'Huh he decided on a last minute search for the kitten before he left the vicinity of the 'Fish Tank'.
Mr. Spike now paid no heed to anything he saw or anything he scented, and he banished all thought. He pooled all his senses into one, becoming oblivious to all but his auditory awareness.
His efforts were rewarded when he heard a whisper, a sigh. He knew it was not the kitten but neither was it anything else he could account for. He did not question, putting curiosity aside, and he concentrated on the whisper. The whisper took shape, became a voice and Mr. Spike realized with a start that the whisper was coming from Miss Mafdet. She was still alive!
Mr. Clem and Mr. Spike knelt carefully beside Miss Mafdet's still form, both leaning close, then closer to heed her thready whisper. Her voice was little more than a breath.
"... ring ..."
"Who did this? b'Huh? The bartender?"
"no... stink... "
"Did b'Huh take the kitten?"
"no..." Miss Mafdet's chest shuddered slightly. "Ring!"
Miss Mafdet's last sound was gasped as though the wounded creature poured her remaining life's essence into the single word, as though her last thought was to convey the importance of that word, and having spoken the word - ring - she spoke no more nor would she ever again.
Having thought before that Miss Mafdet was dead, Mr. Spike and Mr. Clem remained at her side for long moments asking their questions in the vain hope that she would rally. She gave no evidence of life - no movement, no heartbeat, no breath, but neither had she when first they stumbled across her and they believed it possible that she would once again show signs of life. They could not wait with patience for long however. Thoughts of b'Huh and their money gave them a sense of urgency that would not be stilled. Mr. Clem spoke first.
"She mentioned a ring. Think I remember seeing one earlier." He lifted Miss Mafdet, not without some consideration, and Mr. Spike examined her paw-like hands.
"Yeah, see it. Don't look anything special." Mr. Spike removed the ring and held it up for scrutiny. "Some kind of writing inside. Can't make it out." Mr. Spike did not protest when Mr. Clem took the ring but continued searching Miss Mafdet.
"I don't know how to read this but I've seen this script at Ordinary Joe's tattoo parlor- he's the oracle for Mafdet's clan. You find anything else?"
"No. Must be the one. Think it's worth anything?"
Mr. Clem seemed surprised at the question but he examined the ring closely before answering. "Not for the stones. I think we should take it to Ordinary Joe. He might know something about it."
"Yeah and meanwhile, b'Huh's off to Brazil and a life of ease on my money."
"Our money." If Mr. Clem's voice seemed a bit frosty it was lost on the fuming vampire.
"No sense flogging a dead horse - or cat. We can deal with the ring later. I'm after b'Huh." Mr. Spike stood with abruptness. His hands moved over and over in a curious spasmodic motion as though he were squeezing something between them, something large and soft and muscular, something that resembled the neck of a bull-like demon. Now that Miss Mafdet was no longer a source of information he was eager to move, to do, to hunt. When Mr. Clem spoke and attracted his attention he found it annoying. He stayed and he listened but he wondered about the taste and color of Mr. Clem's blood.
"You know, Mafdet wanted us to have this ring. It must mean something..."
"Yeah, yeah. Probably from her sweetheart... there's no time. You do what you want." Mr. Spike turned to go even as he spoke.
"Mafdet'sclanmightpayustotrackdownthekitten." Mr. Clem knew his audience and was well aware that he must speak fast or lose Mr. Spike's attention. The vampire might have treated him with unusual consideration earlier, and his attachment to the kitten might have seemed sweet, but this vampire that stood before him now exhibited no trace of such atypical behavior. The blue eyes that bore into his with such cold consideration belonged to a killer.
At least Mr. Spike was still listening.
"If we take the ring to Ordinary Joe's then we can offer to track down the kitten. Make them p-pay." Mr. Clem's nervousness grew. Mr. Spike was eyeing him as though he were a minion and vampires were not noted for their kindness to their minions. "Look, it just seems like a long shot going after b'Huh if you can't even get his scent. It may not pay as well but if we go with the ring we might end up with something."
Mr. Spike stood for a few moments contemplating his hands, which were still squeezing as though trying out the throttling of b'Huh, testing to see how it would feel. Mr. Clem was not surprised when Mr. Spike shook his head in disagreement.
"No. It'd give b'Huh too much time to get away. We'll separate - you go see the ordinary bloke and I'll look for b'Huh. He's probably headed for the docks so I'm goin' in that direction unless I can pick up his scent."
Mr. Clem spoke now with uncharacteristic bravado - strangely enough because he was afraid. He was afraid of Mr. Spike's escalating vampire mode and he was afraid he would end up with no money at all. He didn't have Mr. Spike's hunting capabilities and he wasn't sure he could trace the kitten on his own. He didn't believe Mr. Spike had much chance of finding b'Huh but if he did Mr. Clem intended to be present. Any trust he had in Mr. Spike was now gone. "Hey. Half that money's mine. How do I know you won't just take it and run?"
The look that Mr. Spike gave Mr. Clem bore a decided resemblance to the look that a hungry bird gives to a tasty worm. He had not thought of taking Mr. Clem's share of the goods previously but he did now and he did not find the idea unappealing. A thought sparkled in his crystal clear mind, the thought that he could kill Mr. Clem right here and now and keep all the money for himself. His crystal clear logic applauded the thought - he could kill, he should kill. Then an image of Mr. Clem hamming up the role of the kitten-eating monster appeared in his head and his crystal clarity briefly dimmed. He shook his head - he didn't have time for this.
Mr. Clem saw the sliver of softness briefly reflected in Mr. Spike's eyes - thankfully for his own peace of mind he did not guess at the surrounding thoughts that accompanied it. Seeing the change, the momentary chink in the vampire armor, he suddenly comprehended the correct argument, knew what to say, knew how to sway Mr. Spike to his own way of thinking.
"You know Dawn'll be real sad about the kitten..."
"Dawn... Dawn will never - know - about - the kitten." Mr. Spike's cold, clear anger was flash-flooded with a rush of resentment. How dare Clem bring Dawn into this?
"S'pose so. You know she's gonna ask about her, though. Well, she seemed pretty nice - I'm sure she'll understand why you had to go after b'Huh instead."
Mr. Spike gritted his teeth as Mr. Clem continued. "You know, we could head toward Ordinary Joe's tattoo parlor and you could keep your sniffer goin' - if you pick up b'Huh's scent we go for it, otherwise, we could see what's the what with the ring... and he is an oracle. Ordinary Joe. If the clan won't pay up maybe he could help us - for a cut."
The logic of Mr. Clem's arguments warred with the logic of the vampire bloodlust that burned in Mr. Spike's veins. Mr. Clem was making sense but Mr. Spike did not want sense. He wanted blood. He wanted to bash and slash and make things bleed. Mr. Clem wanted Mr. Spike to be weak. See how things went instead of making things happen. Ask for help instead of demanding it.
But Mr. Spike knew that Miss Dawn would ask about the kitten and he did not lie to Miss Dawn. She would ask and he would tell her and he would get the look. If he didn't get the crossbow he would get the look. If he got the crossbow he would still get the look. He was going to have to try and find the kitten.
Mr. Spike decided if he were going to do things the 'right' way he might as well do them right. "Let's take Mafdet into the 'Fish Tank.' We can put her into cold storage - clan might want her body. With all the booze flowing there won't be anyone sober enough to bother it."
Mr. Clem blinked and then he smiled and he helped Mr. Spike carry the body inside.
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