The Sorrowful Tale of Miss Kitty Fantastico - Ch.7: Spike,Dawn,Clem
TITLE: The Sorrowful Tale of Miss Kitty Fantastico - Ch.7:
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 and Mr. Clem put on a show.
TSTOMKF 7
Few of us have had knives chop into our brain but undoubtedly most of us have had occasion to feel as though we did, so we may sympathize with poor Mr. Spike as Miss Dawn's words stabbed into his ears.
"I lo-o-ve curly hair!"
"Can I style it?"
"Oooh! We could do a kind of Hugh Grant thing! You know... all kind of floppy on top!"
We must admit that even though Mr. Spike loved Miss Dawn, his natural bent toward evil enticed him with evil thoughts as she bubbled on. Three distinct and separate ways to remove the human tongue from its throat. A singularly effective means to bind and gag. A simple means of vampire suicide. All flashed and died aborning. But these were only thoughts with no true motivation to move them to actual action. Instead, he stood dumbly and thrust in her direction the only weapon available to him, the only weapon he would consider using on Miss Dawn - he thrust out the kitten in her direction.
Miss Dawn's countenance became transformed. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth grew round and rounder, as though her lips were wrapped round a coin. Eagerly she clutched the kitten in her hands, clutched the kitten to her breast and she gave soft oohs and so cutes, all her thoughts of curls and hairstyles flown away and forgotten.
Mr. Spike swiftly moved about, searching out a shirt to cover his bare chest. He had no shyness about him as regards to naked flesh, his own or any others. To him intent was all. Mr. Spike knew he was quite capable of far more lewdness fully clothed then most humans were capable of fully naked. Nonetheless, he understood how painfully precarious was his standing with Miss Dawn's co-custodians. He understood how thoroughly they disapproved of her visits to his crypt. He understood that if they believed Mr. Spike's intentions to be in the least salacious, in the least immoral, in the least anything less than their own standards dictated - well, then the least he could expect was that Miss Dawn would be forever barred from his crypt and more probably he could expect to be dust.
Propriety satisfied, Mr. Spike covered his palms with hair gel and slicked them across his head, forcing the wild curls into rigid if roughly shaped planes. It was the best he could do until he cleaned out his filthy fur-infested comb, but he wanted no more discourse concerning curls.
So busy was he with his attire that he completely overlooked a curious interaction occurring between Miss Dawn and the kitten. As you may be aware, it is within the power of kittens and puppies to turn themselves instantly to the most malleable of substances - a mercurial substance that pours its weight from one place to another with fluid rapidity - so that when you seek to grasp it there is no substance there to grasp. So now as Miss Dawn sought to cosset and cuddle, she found the kitten sliding into unaccustomed shapes, sliding so quickly that her hands could not keep hold of all the bits and pieces of kitten, and inevitably the kitten slid to the floor.
The kitten slid to the floor and Miss Dawn reached out and took the kitten anew in her grasp. Again the kitten became that curious mixture of fluid and firm and slid to the floor. Three times this action played out and she understood that the kitten was not shy but actively rejecting her advances. Miss Dawn's tender feelings were hurt at this, for is a kitten not an object of love, undiscerning love that embraces all, and is this not why we love them? What could be wrong with herself that a kitten should object to her?
And then she observed the kitten hurrying with joyful gait and enraptured gaze toward Mr. Spike and she understood with a wisdom beyond her years that young as this kitten might be her love was no longer undiscerning but bound to one person and that person was Mr. Spike.
Mr. Spike startled a bit as the kitten leapt from floor to chair to shoulder where she purred her happiness into his ear. His head whipped around to look at Miss Dawn. He had not expected to her to lose interest in the kitten so soon.
"What? You don't like the pollywog then?"
Miss Dawn smiled, and it was not a child's smile but rather a woman's, smiled when she has seen love and been moved by it.
"No, that's not it. Spike you do realize that kitten's completely ga-ga over you?"
Now Mr. Spike was startled indeed, it never having occurred to him to consider a kitten's feelings at all. He was new to the consideration of anyone's feelings, save his own and those of his former paramour Miss Drusilla, and he opened himself to others with great difficulty. While he could see motivation and intent with startling clarity and ease, he must slow down to look at each individual with great thought before he could bring himself to care for their feelings. It was not just his impulsive nature speeding him on that made him hesitate to do so, for having once cared he found it difficult to discontinue. This grated against all he had been taught as a vampire and against all his natural vampire bent. It was difficult to deal with and therefore he seldom did it. He had not wanted Miss Dawn to see the kitten simply because he did not wish to explain his plan or how it would lead to her crossbow. He had not thought that feelings might enter into the occasion and now was unsure how to proceed. He chose the prosaic.
"Well, she'll have to get over it. Not my kitten. I'm just keepin' her for someone else."
"Oh! No! She totally loves you... she'll be unhappy with anyone else! Tell the owners that she ran away or...or was eaten by wolves...or something. She's your cat now!"
Miss Dawn was distraught. This was the path of 'True Love' being disturbed!
Mr. Spike heard the note of despair and was dismayed. The kitten was his means for making Miss Dawn happy and now she was not. He sought frantically within his mind, seeking for the suitable words, the appropriate words, the exact words to make Miss Dawn happy again.
"No! She won't be unhappy at all. She's a Goddess, see. She's a cat-Goddess and she'll be worshipped and slaved over and she'll have lots and lots of little Goddess and Godling offspring to keep her happy ... and... and if I did keep her she would be eaten... not by wolves of course... it'd be some cat-eatin' demon but she'd be just as eaten... so I can't keep her, see?"
As was his wont, Mr. Spike had spoken his words all in one breath and stood now breathless waiting for Miss Dawn's reaction, his face creased with worry... would she understand he couldn't keep the kitten? Would she understand and still be unhappy? What would he do if she didn't understand - if she was still unhappy?
Miss Dawn said, "Huh?"
There came now a pounding at the crypt door and Mr. Clem's voice came thinly through the seams around it.
"Hey Spike! You in?"
Mr. Spike moved swiftly - he knew Mr. Clem to be one of the least dangerous of his acquaintances, but he did not yet trust him to make acquaintance with Miss Dawn. Also there was a glimmering of an idea aborning within his head, a way to further convince Miss Dawn that the kitten must go to her new home. He gestured pointedly, pointing Miss Dawn to the trapdoor that led to his bedroom and put his finger against his lips to indicate that she should wait below without making a sound. Miss Dawn followed his suggestion and Mr. Spike moved to the door, ignoring the tiny claws that the kitten dug into his shoulders as she sought to keep from losing her purchase.
As Mr. Spike swung the door wide to admit his friend, he again placed his finger against his lips knowing that Miss Dawn would be listening intently. In a voice that was pitched to demon hearing, he explained what he wanted from Mr. Clem.
Meanwhile Miss Dawn waited below in a fevered pitch. Somehow, she could not make herself feel as frightened as she felt that she should be. Instead, she felt excitement extending through her nerves as she anticipated possible outcomes.
Was this a dangerous demon?
He had called Spike by name. Did that mean he was Spike's friend?
Was Spike in danger? Was she in danger?
She was much like a child watching a horror movie wherein all the thrills of danger were experienced in safe surroundings. And therein lay a great portion of her childish attraction to Mr. Spike. He was evil, one of the very evils that had made her life a nightmare, one of the same evils that had threatened her sister time and again, one of the very same evils that all her friends and family had struggled against for as long as she could truly remember. But he was an evil that had detached himself from the Evil All and become hers, to protect her against evil using evil's own weapons. And this made her feel safe.
Miss Dawn's eyes widened and her heart's rhythm sped to a faster rhythm as she heard voices raised as though in contention.
"You can't have this cat you fiend! She's not a meal for the likes of you!"
"Ahrrr! Uhrrrr!"
There came the sound of feet stomping great stomps and furniture falling flatly upon the floor.
Now you may have noticed that neither Mr. Spike nor Mr. Clem could be considered natural-born actors. This sad lack had not escaped Miss Dawn either and her brow wrinkled in disdain. Curiosity overcame any remaining vestige of fear and she climbed to the top of the trapdoor to look out.
Unfortunately she looked out just at the moment when Mr. Clem, now wholeheartedly claiming his role, chose to assume his most horrifying aspect. He stood towering over the trapdoor, his ponderous, saggy-skinned bulk posed with arms akimbo, claw-tipped weapons waiting to grab up innocent kittens for the eating. But it was his face that most frightened Miss Dawn, being torn open as though greatly wounded, tendrils flicking about with wild abandon and terrifying teeth standing in jagged relief from a fleshless mouth. In a future time that we cannot yet see, Miss Dawn would know Mr. Clem for the nearly harmless being that he was, but for now he looked horrifying and she was horrified and she screamed.
Mr. Spike was equally horrified that Miss Dawn should have been so seriously frightened, it not having been his intention, and he directed Mr. Clem towards the door with a quick flick of his thumb. Still desirous of convincing Miss Dawn that the kitten was not safe in his crypt he continued with his show.
"Get out of here or I'll pull out your intestines, wrap 'em around your neck and twist 'em into a bow-tie!"
Mr. Clem hesitated, torn between the wish to console Miss Dawn and the wish to remove himself from a potentially irate Mr. Spike. He disliked being disliked and had little of the demon desire to terrify, but prudence dictated his course and he left.
Mr. Spike took the hand of Miss Dawn and he helped her up to the top floor. He reached out for a moment, as though to wrap his arm about the girl, but his self-image intruded itself convincing him that such an action could be construed as weakness. Instead, he righted one of the fallen chairs and sat her down and placed the kitten in her arms. He contented himself with lightly touching a hand to her shoulder. He peered down, unsure if the kitten would co-operate with his desire to soothe Miss Dawn. He need not have worried, for almost as though the kitten could read his desire, could feel the love that now fueled his concern, she settled against Miss Dawn as she would not before, draping herself upon Miss Dawn's bosom, placing one paw on each side of her neck as though to hold Miss Dawn's head in place and proceeded to thoroughly clean her chin with her rough kitten tongue.
Mr. Spike spoke softly, "You understand, right? The pollywog can't stay."
Miss Dawn nodded her head. She understood - with horrible kitten-eating demons like that around - the kitten couldn't stay. She turned her eyes to Mr. Spike - a woebegone waif - saddened because the kitten would be sad and Mr. Spike turned his eyes to her - upset that his plan for her happiness had in anyway led her to sadness.
The kitten purred in perfect contentment.
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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 and Mr. Clem put on a show.
TSTOMKF 7
Few of us have had knives chop into our brain but undoubtedly most of us have had occasion to feel as though we did, so we may sympathize with poor Mr. Spike as Miss Dawn's words stabbed into his ears.
"I lo-o-ve curly hair!"
"Can I style it?"
"Oooh! We could do a kind of Hugh Grant thing! You know... all kind of floppy on top!"
We must admit that even though Mr. Spike loved Miss Dawn, his natural bent toward evil enticed him with evil thoughts as she bubbled on. Three distinct and separate ways to remove the human tongue from its throat. A singularly effective means to bind and gag. A simple means of vampire suicide. All flashed and died aborning. But these were only thoughts with no true motivation to move them to actual action. Instead, he stood dumbly and thrust in her direction the only weapon available to him, the only weapon he would consider using on Miss Dawn - he thrust out the kitten in her direction.
Miss Dawn's countenance became transformed. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth grew round and rounder, as though her lips were wrapped round a coin. Eagerly she clutched the kitten in her hands, clutched the kitten to her breast and she gave soft oohs and so cutes, all her thoughts of curls and hairstyles flown away and forgotten.
Mr. Spike swiftly moved about, searching out a shirt to cover his bare chest. He had no shyness about him as regards to naked flesh, his own or any others. To him intent was all. Mr. Spike knew he was quite capable of far more lewdness fully clothed then most humans were capable of fully naked. Nonetheless, he understood how painfully precarious was his standing with Miss Dawn's co-custodians. He understood how thoroughly they disapproved of her visits to his crypt. He understood that if they believed Mr. Spike's intentions to be in the least salacious, in the least immoral, in the least anything less than their own standards dictated - well, then the least he could expect was that Miss Dawn would be forever barred from his crypt and more probably he could expect to be dust.
Propriety satisfied, Mr. Spike covered his palms with hair gel and slicked them across his head, forcing the wild curls into rigid if roughly shaped planes. It was the best he could do until he cleaned out his filthy fur-infested comb, but he wanted no more discourse concerning curls.
So busy was he with his attire that he completely overlooked a curious interaction occurring between Miss Dawn and the kitten. As you may be aware, it is within the power of kittens and puppies to turn themselves instantly to the most malleable of substances - a mercurial substance that pours its weight from one place to another with fluid rapidity - so that when you seek to grasp it there is no substance there to grasp. So now as Miss Dawn sought to cosset and cuddle, she found the kitten sliding into unaccustomed shapes, sliding so quickly that her hands could not keep hold of all the bits and pieces of kitten, and inevitably the kitten slid to the floor.
The kitten slid to the floor and Miss Dawn reached out and took the kitten anew in her grasp. Again the kitten became that curious mixture of fluid and firm and slid to the floor. Three times this action played out and she understood that the kitten was not shy but actively rejecting her advances. Miss Dawn's tender feelings were hurt at this, for is a kitten not an object of love, undiscerning love that embraces all, and is this not why we love them? What could be wrong with herself that a kitten should object to her?
And then she observed the kitten hurrying with joyful gait and enraptured gaze toward Mr. Spike and she understood with a wisdom beyond her years that young as this kitten might be her love was no longer undiscerning but bound to one person and that person was Mr. Spike.
Mr. Spike startled a bit as the kitten leapt from floor to chair to shoulder where she purred her happiness into his ear. His head whipped around to look at Miss Dawn. He had not expected to her to lose interest in the kitten so soon.
"What? You don't like the pollywog then?"
Miss Dawn smiled, and it was not a child's smile but rather a woman's, smiled when she has seen love and been moved by it.
"No, that's not it. Spike you do realize that kitten's completely ga-ga over you?"
Now Mr. Spike was startled indeed, it never having occurred to him to consider a kitten's feelings at all. He was new to the consideration of anyone's feelings, save his own and those of his former paramour Miss Drusilla, and he opened himself to others with great difficulty. While he could see motivation and intent with startling clarity and ease, he must slow down to look at each individual with great thought before he could bring himself to care for their feelings. It was not just his impulsive nature speeding him on that made him hesitate to do so, for having once cared he found it difficult to discontinue. This grated against all he had been taught as a vampire and against all his natural vampire bent. It was difficult to deal with and therefore he seldom did it. He had not wanted Miss Dawn to see the kitten simply because he did not wish to explain his plan or how it would lead to her crossbow. He had not thought that feelings might enter into the occasion and now was unsure how to proceed. He chose the prosaic.
"Well, she'll have to get over it. Not my kitten. I'm just keepin' her for someone else."
"Oh! No! She totally loves you... she'll be unhappy with anyone else! Tell the owners that she ran away or...or was eaten by wolves...or something. She's your cat now!"
Miss Dawn was distraught. This was the path of 'True Love' being disturbed!
Mr. Spike heard the note of despair and was dismayed. The kitten was his means for making Miss Dawn happy and now she was not. He sought frantically within his mind, seeking for the suitable words, the appropriate words, the exact words to make Miss Dawn happy again.
"No! She won't be unhappy at all. She's a Goddess, see. She's a cat-Goddess and she'll be worshipped and slaved over and she'll have lots and lots of little Goddess and Godling offspring to keep her happy ... and... and if I did keep her she would be eaten... not by wolves of course... it'd be some cat-eatin' demon but she'd be just as eaten... so I can't keep her, see?"
As was his wont, Mr. Spike had spoken his words all in one breath and stood now breathless waiting for Miss Dawn's reaction, his face creased with worry... would she understand he couldn't keep the kitten? Would she understand and still be unhappy? What would he do if she didn't understand - if she was still unhappy?
Miss Dawn said, "Huh?"
There came now a pounding at the crypt door and Mr. Clem's voice came thinly through the seams around it.
"Hey Spike! You in?"
Mr. Spike moved swiftly - he knew Mr. Clem to be one of the least dangerous of his acquaintances, but he did not yet trust him to make acquaintance with Miss Dawn. Also there was a glimmering of an idea aborning within his head, a way to further convince Miss Dawn that the kitten must go to her new home. He gestured pointedly, pointing Miss Dawn to the trapdoor that led to his bedroom and put his finger against his lips to indicate that she should wait below without making a sound. Miss Dawn followed his suggestion and Mr. Spike moved to the door, ignoring the tiny claws that the kitten dug into his shoulders as she sought to keep from losing her purchase.
As Mr. Spike swung the door wide to admit his friend, he again placed his finger against his lips knowing that Miss Dawn would be listening intently. In a voice that was pitched to demon hearing, he explained what he wanted from Mr. Clem.
Meanwhile Miss Dawn waited below in a fevered pitch. Somehow, she could not make herself feel as frightened as she felt that she should be. Instead, she felt excitement extending through her nerves as she anticipated possible outcomes.
Was this a dangerous demon?
He had called Spike by name. Did that mean he was Spike's friend?
Was Spike in danger? Was she in danger?
She was much like a child watching a horror movie wherein all the thrills of danger were experienced in safe surroundings. And therein lay a great portion of her childish attraction to Mr. Spike. He was evil, one of the very evils that had made her life a nightmare, one of the same evils that had threatened her sister time and again, one of the very same evils that all her friends and family had struggled against for as long as she could truly remember. But he was an evil that had detached himself from the Evil All and become hers, to protect her against evil using evil's own weapons. And this made her feel safe.
Miss Dawn's eyes widened and her heart's rhythm sped to a faster rhythm as she heard voices raised as though in contention.
"You can't have this cat you fiend! She's not a meal for the likes of you!"
"Ahrrr! Uhrrrr!"
There came the sound of feet stomping great stomps and furniture falling flatly upon the floor.
Now you may have noticed that neither Mr. Spike nor Mr. Clem could be considered natural-born actors. This sad lack had not escaped Miss Dawn either and her brow wrinkled in disdain. Curiosity overcame any remaining vestige of fear and she climbed to the top of the trapdoor to look out.
Unfortunately she looked out just at the moment when Mr. Clem, now wholeheartedly claiming his role, chose to assume his most horrifying aspect. He stood towering over the trapdoor, his ponderous, saggy-skinned bulk posed with arms akimbo, claw-tipped weapons waiting to grab up innocent kittens for the eating. But it was his face that most frightened Miss Dawn, being torn open as though greatly wounded, tendrils flicking about with wild abandon and terrifying teeth standing in jagged relief from a fleshless mouth. In a future time that we cannot yet see, Miss Dawn would know Mr. Clem for the nearly harmless being that he was, but for now he looked horrifying and she was horrified and she screamed.
Mr. Spike was equally horrified that Miss Dawn should have been so seriously frightened, it not having been his intention, and he directed Mr. Clem towards the door with a quick flick of his thumb. Still desirous of convincing Miss Dawn that the kitten was not safe in his crypt he continued with his show.
"Get out of here or I'll pull out your intestines, wrap 'em around your neck and twist 'em into a bow-tie!"
Mr. Clem hesitated, torn between the wish to console Miss Dawn and the wish to remove himself from a potentially irate Mr. Spike. He disliked being disliked and had little of the demon desire to terrify, but prudence dictated his course and he left.
Mr. Spike took the hand of Miss Dawn and he helped her up to the top floor. He reached out for a moment, as though to wrap his arm about the girl, but his self-image intruded itself convincing him that such an action could be construed as weakness. Instead, he righted one of the fallen chairs and sat her down and placed the kitten in her arms. He contented himself with lightly touching a hand to her shoulder. He peered down, unsure if the kitten would co-operate with his desire to soothe Miss Dawn. He need not have worried, for almost as though the kitten could read his desire, could feel the love that now fueled his concern, she settled against Miss Dawn as she would not before, draping herself upon Miss Dawn's bosom, placing one paw on each side of her neck as though to hold Miss Dawn's head in place and proceeded to thoroughly clean her chin with her rough kitten tongue.
Mr. Spike spoke softly, "You understand, right? The pollywog can't stay."
Miss Dawn nodded her head. She understood - with horrible kitten-eating demons like that around - the kitten couldn't stay. She turned her eyes to Mr. Spike - a woebegone waif - saddened because the kitten would be sad and Mr. Spike turned his eyes to her - upset that his plan for her happiness had in anyway led her to sadness.
The kitten purred in perfect contentment.
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