Fred sighed wearily and slumped into her apartment, after spending two years living in the same building she worked in, Fred had forgotten how much it sucked to actually need to drive home after work. Now all she wanted to do was get out of these tortures of fashion known as high heels and eat. That and listen to some Faith Hill. Yes, Faith Hill would be nice. A moment after Fred had pulled some frozen tacos from the freezer and before she could get anywhere near the stereo there was a knock on her door. Cocking her head quizzically, Fred went to the door and checked the peephole before opening it up to her unexpected visitor.
Spike stood out side her doorway, hands tucked into his pockets almost awkwardly. “Hello pet.” He began. “Spike.” She said, still taken aback by his appearance. “What uh….” She noticed the duffle bag on the floor near his feet and had a bad idea what was coming next. “I need a place to stay, I can’t keep leaving in crypts and basements. I won’t do it anymore. Besides,” he went on. “You and me are pretty close right? Saving your life and whatnot?” Fred bit her lip, this wasn’t going to end well. “I don’t know Spike, this place isn’t really all that big.” But that was a lie, in truth she could easily have fit another two people into the penthouse so generously provided by Wolfram and Hart.
“I could sleep on the couch.” He put in quickly. “Stay out as much as inhumanly possible, you’d barely know I was here.” Fred sighed, she could see where this was going. So could Spike, he made a motion towards the door and promptly bounced off an invisible barrier and into the far wall of the hall. “Come on in Spike.” Spike smoothed the lapels of his coat and tried to salvage what was left of his dignity. “Appreciate it.” He picked his bag up from the floor and walked into the apartment where he immediately through it on the floor on the other side of the door.. “Any rules I should know about? Landlord doesn’t like the music too loud? Certain shelves in the fridge I can’t touch? Any closets I can’t- Ah Bugger!” Spike suddenly hopped onto one foot, holding his other ankle in his hands and looking about wildly. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT!?” Fred made a face that was vaguely apologetic. “I have a cat. Spike, meet Mr. Mittens” She gestured under the table where a black tabby cat was crouched and staring at Spike malevolently.
“Oh.” Spike said, still eyeing the cat wearily as he put down his scratched foot. “Well, after a week or two I’m sure Mr. Kitty and I will be getting on famously.” Fred grinned with happiness she didn’t feel. “Weeks?” She thought. “Anyway,” Spike went on. “I haven’t slept in 3 days; I’m going to take a kip on the couch.” He plopped down on the only seat with a decent view to the T.V. and closed his eyes before Fred could offer a word of protest. “You don’t need to worry about making too much noise.” He said as if he were being magnanimous. “I sleep like the dead.” He tittered at his own joke, rolled over and fell asleep. Fred sighed and an hour later she was nursing a plate of tacos in a chair taken from the kitchen while Spike rambled on in his sleep. “But Dru, I thought you were going to be out all night. Well of course I’m pleased your coming back early- just surprised is all. Ok love.” He murmured “See you in a bit.” Fred turned up the T.V. another several notches. “Listen Buffy.” Spike went on, now sounding panicked. “That was Drusilla, she’s coming back now. You need to get out of here; well of course I need to unchain you first, I’m not an idi- AHH!” Spike shouted so loud Fred jumped in her seat. “Dru, this isn’t what it looks like. I was just… just getting ready to torture and kill the slayer, yeah that’s it. The nudity is all part of the…psychological torment of it!” There was a long pause before Spike began again in a more remorseful tone. “Ok, you caught me. But she means nothing Dru! I swear to God!” A look of confusion creased Spike’s features. “Your not mad? Really? So you mean Buffy can stay? And your going to stay?” Now Fred was bordering on disgusted by the pleased look on Spike’s sleeping face. “And I can stay! Oh Dru, this is the best birthday ever! The only way it could be any more perfect would be if- FRED!? Shit, I didn’t even know you owned anything like that!” Fred jumped out of the chair, miles past disgusted now, shuddered, bit back a cry of disgust, shuddered again and ran for the bathroom. She needed to shower, for a very long time.
The next morning, when Fred cautiously emerged from her bedroom she found Spike on his knees scrubbing at a stain on the couch. The vampire froze when he saw her before pasting an “everything’s fine” smile onto his face. “Morning Fred!” he said. ‘I just spilled some of my morning glass of milk onto the couch. Don’t worry, I’m cleaning it up.” Fred just cast her eyes downward and practically scurried out of her own apartment with little more then a murmured “good morning” at her guest. Normally she got up a few hours before work so she could enjoy a nice leisurely breakfast at home, not today. Today she’d sit at the dunkin donuts at the corner for an hour or so, then she’d talk to Angel. He’d lived with Spike before, he must have a word of wisdom or two.
“YOU WHAT!?” Angel gasped. “Told Spike he could stay with me.” Fred said nervously. But the second half of her words were drowned in a sea of laughter from Angel. He was laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Your living with Spike! Does he still talk in his sleep!?” Fred made a face. “Yeah, what the heck is that about?” Angel just shook his head, still laughing. ”Oh man, that’s just.” Angel dissolved into laughter again, this was too funny. Fred just got up and walked out, she could see there would be no help here.
When she returned from work, hoping against hope that Spike had gone out for the night she was assaulted at the door by a blaring wave of guitars, drums and a shouting Englishman coupled with the sight of Spike shirtless, and bobbing his head to the music. “Spike!” She cried and put her hands to her ears. “What is that?” He shot her an incredulous glance “The Sex Pistols!” He cried over another guitar riff. “Bloody brilliant!” Fred just shut the door and hurried back towards the car garage, she’d sleep in her office.
From that moment on it only got worse, everyday when Fred came home some fresh disaster awaited her. On Monday she found Spike and some topless read head cavorting about on her couch, on Thursday Fred got home just in time to stop Spike from using Mr. Mittens to up the ante in a game of poker. He’d protested that he “couldn’t lose” but Fred was angry enough that a group of demons were in her home without the idea of Spike gambling with her cat. And it was all accompanied by an ever regenerating pile of empty jars of pigs blood and a constant wave of English punk bands played at deafening levels. The final straw came when she walked in on Spike with not one but two women in HER bed. Fred shrieked, covered her eyes and positively fled from her home. Behind her Spike was shouting. “I’m sorry Fred! But the couch just wasn’t big enough, I kept slipping off!” As soon as she was in the hall Fred dug out her cell phone, hit the 1st speed dial, and waited patiently for someone to pick up on the other end. “Hello, Angel? It’s Fred. I need you to help me with something.” Fred had had enough, Spike was getting out whether he liked it or not.
The next night Spike groaned as he dragged himself out of the elevator and back towards the apartment. That morning Angel had called, he offered Spike $2500 to go down to some warehouse that Wolfram and Hart owned and look into some complaints about mysterious sounds after sunset. Spike had spent the better part of 2 hours battling with a foursome of hulking ape demons. Now Spike was holding onto his aching ribs while what felt like a minor concussion was tearing through his skull. Right now there was nothing in the world he wanted more then a mug of otter blood and some quiet rest on the couch. If he was lucky Fred might even be at work late and he’d have some peace and quiet.
Instead he was assaulted by a stereo rendition of “Hi Spikey!” He took a step back, the volume of it made his ringing skull ache. Sitting on the floor in front of the couch Spike had been longing for were Fred and Harmony, clad in baggy flannel PJ’s and sweatshirts. “Welcome to our slumber party!” Fred announced. “Slumber party?” Spike asked, his belly full of dread. Harmony beamed at him. “That’s right!” she squealed. “Me and Fred are going to stay up all night! We rented all of the molly Ringwald movies and got pizza! It’s going to be Super fun!” Spike did his best to put on a nonchalant grin. “Sounds like a bloody blast, really. Listen girls, I got into a bit of a brawl today, any chance we could take the party over to Harm’s house?” But the girls just shook their heads. “We can’t now!” Fred said, still at that ear splitting volume. “The party’s all ready started! But you can sleep in my room if you answer one question.” Spike sighed. “Fine, what?” Fred and Harmony both dissolved into giggles. ‘Who do you think is cuter? Wes or Knox?” Spike merely shook his head as the giggling, unbelievably, actually got louder and moved towards the bedroom door only to have Fred dartin front of him with a large cross in her hands. “You can’t come in until you answer.” She reprimanded. Spike stood stock still for a moment before his exhaustion got the better of him and he dropped his eyes away from Fred’s gaze. “Wes.” He muttered without looking at her and shoved her aside so he could slouch into the bed, the way he felt right now he would’ve complimented Angel if it meant he could sleep.
He didn’t sleep. Fred and Harmony had spent the entire night interacting at a level that even he couldn’t tune out and from there it only got worse every night. It was as if Fred was making a conscious effort to drive Spike out of his mind. When he arrived home the next night he found Fred and Knox sitting on the couch playing some insipid card game and the next time Spike brought a girl home Fred had spent the entire night chatting with the bird over some ridiculous bollocks involving a beauty shop down the street. Spike couldn’t get away from it, the gal pals, that ponce Knox the Dixie chicks constantly playing on the stereo, but worst of all was the cat.
When Spike had first arrived the cat might scratch him if he got too close but it mostly just hissed at him from a distance, but for the last week and a half the damn thing leapt at him with a fury at every opportunity and he couldn’t understand why. The truth of it was that Fred had taken an adrenal stimulant from the lab and slipped it into Mr. Mitten’s food and sat back and watched Spike deal with the drug’s side effects of increased aggression and territorialism. Every time Fred heard the cat hiss followed by a muffled yell from Spike she grinned to herself, it could only be a matter of days now until he took off.
The final straw for Spike came one day after he came in fresh from a particularly nasty brawl with a gang of vamps. He rooted through the fridge until he grabbed one of the jugs of blood and drank half of it in one gulp, a gulp that he choked on and spewed into the sink a moment later. His brow wrinkled in disgust and confusion spike read a note he’d just noticed had been taped to the side of the bottle.
Spikey,
I had no place to put my tomato soup : ( so I used one of your bottles to hold it, I knew you wouldn’t mind : )! Anyway, I’ll try to remember to bring you some more tonight..
-Fred
Spike just gripped the jar for a moment before he roared with rage and through it against the far wall where it exploded in a shower of glass and red. “I HAVE HAD IT!” he raged. “I’M TIRED OF THE VISITORS! I’M TIRED OF THE MUSIC!” At that moment his leg strayed to close to Mr. Mittens and the cat slashed at his ankle again. Spike picked up the animal in a fury “AND I HAVE HAD IT… WITH THIS…. BLOODY CAT!” having said so, he gripped the offending kitty around the middle, vamped out and sank his fangs into the cat’s neck! He drank deeply, breaking off for one moment to roar his fury to the ceiling and returned to the bloody wound. Once he’d had his fill he looked up and saw Fred standing in the doorway, shock plastered over her face and her keys dangling numbly from her hand. Spike froze, aware of the blood staining his chin . “That’s right you filthy demon!” Spike shouted at the still dripping carcass in what he hoped was a tone of righteous indignation. “That’ll teach you to kill my best friend’s cat and posses the body! I’m sorry Fred, but I couldn’t save the cat. All I could do was-“ He broke off talking and ducked as Fred’s briefcase flew through then air towards where his head had been a second ago.
“Get out!” she yelled, seizing the next thing that came to hand, which happened to be a Sex Pistol’s CD, and hurling it towards Spike. “Hey!” he shouted indignantly as the CD shattered against the wall. ‘That was my favorite CD!” Fred remained oblivious to his protest and hurled a ceramic dish at him. The third time was the charm as the heavy plate slammed into Spike’s forehead. “OUT!” she yelled again. “All right!” Spike cried, ducking behind the couch to avoid the ever increasing barrage of missiles. “I’ll go! I’ll go!”
Gunn’s video gaming was interrupted by a knock at his door. He paused the game, curious to see who would be calling at this hour of the night and opened the door to find Spike standing their with a sizeable welt on his forehead and a few belongings cradled in his arms. “Hey Charlie.” He said conversationally “Nice building ya got here.”
THE END
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