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Spike had a problem.
It was fluffy, about the size of a grapefruit, pink, and currently dissolving his sword. He waved it around ineffectually, but the thing refused to come off. He was really starting to regret patrolling by himself tonight. He bashed the thing up against a tombstone and it scuttled down the blade with a mournful sound, heading straight towards his hand. He paused; the thing didn't seem to be attacking, it really just seemed to want his sword. It moved further down the blade. Maybe it wanted his fingers? Either way, he probably needed help, because he wasn't about to abandon his favourite sword. He sighed, held the thing out in front of him warily and headed to the nearest payphone.
“The blasted thing looks like a cotton candy tribble, Slayer.”
“Really?” asked Buffy. She sounded interested, which could be both a good and a bad sign, if he knew his girl. Which he did.
“It's bloody well eating my favourite sword, Slayer! It's like a sodding limpet, it won't come off.”
Buffy snorted at him with good humour. “It's eating steel? I wonder if you found one of those the last time around? Bring it back to the house, I think I know what it is, but I need to check with Anya. I don't think it's from our dimension. She might know more than I do.”
“You want me to bring a demon back to Revello on purpose?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yup, and don't piss it off any more, or you'll be growing back a finger.”
Spike regarded the thing with suspicion. It's pink pointy shock of fur rippled in something like anticipation and he moved his hands away further. “If you say so, Slayer. Be it on your own head when this thing dissolves the furniture.”
Buffy laughed, “If the hundred and twenty year old vampire and teenage sister weren't enough to do it, I don't think demonic carnival food is going to destroy my couch. See you soon, ok?”
He sighed, beat. “See you soon, pet. Love you.”
“Love you too.” God, he'd never get enough of her saying those words. He hung up before he started to babble like an idiot and turned to face Revello.
“Right.” He looked at it again. “Don't get any bloody ideas about chomping on my digits, now, ok?”
The thing trilled in delight.
*
“You found a Puffin!” said Anya in excitement. She had beaten him to Revello, and both women now stood on the porch waiting for his arrival.
He frowned at the ball of fluff. “Thought those were birds or sommat?” He wiggled the sword. “Like Toucans, only with less personality.”
“Terrestrial Puffins, maybe.” She leaned down to tickle the fluffy thing under its- it's, er, fluff. It didn't really have a chin to speak of. “Who's a good boy?” It made a high pitched, excited-sounding giggle, swarmed up her arm and appeared to snuggle into her neck, shuddering in delight. Anya giggled at the thing and stroked it gently.
“Why was it dissolving my sword if it's so bloody cuddly?”
“How can you tell it's a male, Anya?”
“Well,” said Anya, gently lifting the thing off her shoulder and into her cupped hands. It made a contented sigh noise and wiggled further into her arms. “They're a teeny bit psychic - they pick up on moods pretty well - if Spike was having fun killing something, well, it probably wanted to join in.” She lifted the puffin to face level. “And you can tell it's a boy because the females are bigger than this entire house.” She winced, “And ugly too. This is about as big as this little guy is going to get.” She scratched the top part of the fluff. “Aren't you, you cute little thing?” It vibrated happily in her hand. “I've never heard of them dissolving things, though; might be a hellmouth special.”
“What does it eat?” asked Buffy, hesitantly leaning over to stroke the puffin. She relaxed as it trilled happily and wound its way around her arm and perched like a big, fluffy parrot on her shoulder.
“He’s technically a carnivore, but will eat just about anything. I wouldn't worry if you've got mice or cockroaches, they'll keep him well fed.”
Buffy hummed thoughtfully, patting her faux parrot.
“You aren't serious?” he asked in disbelief.
Buffy smiled back at him, “Hey, we've already got one carnivore in the family that eats whatever he likes, what's one more?”
“I don't have saliva that liquefies metal, pet.”
Buffy’s smile turned into a full on grin. “No, you've just got saliva that liquefies me.” She winked at him.
“They do make excellent pets,” interjected Anya. “Very loyal, terrifying to anything it thinks is a threat. They were all the rage in Arashmahar for a few centuries, but, you know fads,” she said wistfully, waving a careless hand. “Everyone wanted a hellhound after that.” She scrunched up her face, “The mess, I mean, goodness. I was cleaning up entrails for years afterwards.” She sighed, “Honestly, who even thinks of these things?”
Spike frowned; did she really want an answer? Because Dru sometimes got a hankering for entrails as well, and he could still smell the rank stuff in the DeSoto, even though he'd gotten rid of that mess almost twenty years ago.
“Geez, your Avon ladies have their work cut out for them.”
Anya gave her a funny look for a moment, “Oh, multilevel marketing schemes. The venereal disease in the sex life of goods and services.”
Buffy gave her an equal, if not more funny look back.
A squeal erupted from behind them, making both Spike and the puffin flinch.
“OhmyGodwhatisthat?! It'ssocute. Iloveit! Canwekeepit?”
The puffin squealed in despair and disappeared under Spike's duster.
“Oi! You little pink bugger,” said Spike, dropping his sword and searching through his coat. “Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?”
Anya watched Spike search fruitlessly through his duster. “You should give it a name, it might listen to you then. He might not understand that you're talking to him.”
“You lot are serious? You're planning on keeping this thing?”
A very annoyed noise came from somewhere inside his duster.
Buffy shrugged, “I don't see why not, Anya says they're very loyal and scary to bad things that want to hurt us. I've always wanted a pet, but I thought getting a dog or cat was a bit risky if Angelus or whoever ever made an appearance again, considering Willow's fish and what he did to Drusilla's puppies. He'd be pretty safe, what with the metal-melting saliva and everything.”
Chit had a point. “Fine,” he sighed. “We'll keep Gavin.” Gavin trilled excitedly and exited his duster through his collar to sit on his leather-clad shoulder.
“Gavin?” asked Dawn. “You can't call something that pink Gavin. He needs a proper name like, like Fluffy or-or Edward.”
Gavin made a noise that was distinctly a squeak of displeasure.
“Sorry, bit. Gavin doesn't seem to like either of those. Guess we'll just have to stick with this one.” He picked up the ridiculous looking thing and held it at eye level, not that it had any real definable eyes. He shifted into game face. “You dissolve my sword again and we're going to have problems, right mate?” Gavin quailed, making a sad noise and deflating slightly. “And rightly so.” he said, sounding satisfied.
“Ok, everyone, back inside it's time for hot cocoa and then bed. Anya, did you want to stay for a bit?”
She looked confused for a few moments. “Um, that would be very nice. Thank you Buffy.”
“No problems, come have a seat at the breakfast bar while I get everything ready.” Buffy gave Dawn a look when she went to sit down next to Anya. “Go get changed into your pj's, miss, you aren't going to miss anything in the next five minutes.”
Spike followed in behind them and was surprised when the pink ball of fluff ran down his arm and leg to race around the room and up the walls with an unexpected, but very cute ‘zoooom’ noise.
“Gavin!” Buffy yelled from the kitchen. “You better not be putting tiny footprints all over my walls!” He made a chastised noise and dropped straight from the ceiling onto the carpet, vibrated in a circle, and took off again.
A few minutes later, Dawn came into the kitchen and there was a squeal that turned from terrified to excited in the space of half a breath.. Gavin jumped from the top of the door frame onto her head, buzzing happily when she patted him.
“He's so cute! Look! He likes me now. Can he sleep in my room?”
Buffy hid a smile in her cup of hot chocolate. “We'll see,” she said diplomatically. “He might not sleep at night. Or he likes hiding in the dryer or something. Don't be too disappointed if he doesn't want to, ok?”
Dawn pouted and sipped her drink, still with Gavin perched on her head. “Ok, I guess.”
It turned out Gavin liked sleeping in the coloured dirty washing basket in the basement. It mysteriously started ending up in Dawn's room after that. Gavin didn't really seem to mind, but Spike rolled his eyes extra hard every time it was his turn to do the washing and had to collect the basket from her room.