Chapter Text
Spike gets used to being a kitten more quickly than he probably should. Not that he wants to stay this way; he wants to have the freedom to roam, he wants to sink his fangs into a hot, rich vein, he wants a damn good fight and a damn good fuck. (He wants his duster, of all the things to miss.) If someone offered him a chance to go back to normal right this second, he'd take it, pay almost any cost, do almost anything.
Still, he can't deny there are worse things than to be curled up in the Slayer's lap after her shift having his belly rubbed. It's so warm... okay, she's so warm, that's all, and his feline body seems to appreciate warmth even more than his vampire one did.
(He can bask in the sun streaming through the window for hours, doesn't catch on fire even a little bit. He can't wait to turn back, obviously, but he already knows he'll miss the sunbathing something awful.)
It could be worse, okay? Can't blame a vamp for making the best of the cards he's dealt.
It's actually kind of horrifying that the Slayer is living here, in this rundown room. Yeah, sure, she ran away, it's not as if it's the place her friends and family would've chosen for her, and it's not like he cares, it just seems... wrong. The indignity of it. It's not right!
He's not in a position to do much about it, but he does what he can. He's always hungry, his tiny kitten belly perpetually feels empty, but he's experimented with eating less of what she brings home from her job. Turns out, he doesn't actually need a lot to survive.
(He also hasn't grown even a smidge, despite having been a kitten for a good fortnight, and he has enough experience with kitten debt to know that it's not natural for a kitten to stay so little for so long. He's starting to think it was on purpose, or at least a manifestation of Dru's will, regardless of whether she consciously intended it to happen this way. She never wanted him to be a cat; she wanted him stuck, small and helpless and so, so vulnerable. If only he could remember properly what she shouted as she pushed him out of the car, maybe he'd have a ruddy clue how to fix it.)
Once Buffy's settled somewhere less grotty, once she's not scrambling just to keep from starving, then he's gonna start demanding treats with menaces (and when he's back to being a vamp, all bets are off, obviously), but for now, he can make do; he's always hungry, but he's never full regardless of how much he eats, so... it leaves Buffy with more food for herself and more coins to count carefully into piles on the counter.
It's not that he likes the chit, it's just depressing seeing a Slayer in these surroundings, all right? Besides, he has to live here too, and from the scents he catches when Buffy comes and goes, he's pretty sure there are demons in this building who'd eat him as soon as look at him.
He'd still like to go wandering, he wants to get the lay of the land, but he's horribly aware of how small he is, how delicate. He'd almost rather Dru had turned him into a vampire cat; no sunbathing, of course, but stronger and faster, able to defend himself against other animals, able at least to glare at a demon and make it very clear he's no easy meal. Like this, though, his squishy little body feels almost incomprehensibly fragile. He's not felt this unsafe in... well... ever. Even as a human, he didn't feel as vulnerable as he does now.
Vampire Spike got off on danger, but as a kitten, he seems to have inherited at least some of the instincts that come with being tiny and soft and helpless. Even as he rails against himself for being so weak, his body simply refuses to run away from the warmth and safety Buffy represents.
(He's aware of the irony, thanks; he's doing his absolute best not to think about it.)
She keeps trying out new names on him, no more so far that have required him to draw blood, but altogether too cutesy for his tastes. Unfortunately, there's no way she'll think to call a helpless fluffy kitten 'Spike', but at least she lets him veto the terrible ones, so eventually she'll find something less twee.
Today she tries Marshmallow (absolutely not, he comes very close to biting her) and Snowball (no thank you), then grabs him and holds him up to look in his eyes and make kissy noises in his face.
It's... annoying. Yeah, annoying.
"God, you're so cute."
Spike should not be so pleased to get a compliment from her about his bloody cat body. It's embarrassing; he's absolutely blaming his borrowed biology. He reaches one forepaw out to tap her on the chin. She giggles, smiling wider, and leans forwards to kiss his face; he pushes with his paw, because no, the indignity is too much. (No, he's not afraid he'll like it.)
She giggles and cuddles him to her chest instead, and being up close and personal with her cleavage, well, he purrs, of course he does. This'd make him purr if he were still a vampire, too - he's not speciesist, he can admit that she has magnificent breasts.
And oh, the scent of her.
It's not like she ever let him get this close when he was a vamp. Having his face smushed between her boobs is a whole new, interesting experience. And most vampires have an excellent sense of smell, but she smells different to his cat nose. Less yummy deliciousness, but more... he's not sure. Can't quite put his finger on it. Or, well, his toe bean. It's a really good smell, whatever it is. He purrs louder and her heartbeat is a steady thump that echoes through his whole tiny body.
He doesn't feel the same pull to her blood as he did when he was a vampire, but there's still something so alluring about her pulse thrumming away under his nose. The life of her! Even depressed and working minimum wage in hellishly long shifts, she's more alive than anyone he's ever known. It's absolutely sodding delicious.
