Title: Furry (1/?) Disclaimer: As much as I would like, Joss said that I had to stop calling these characters my own, and that I should lay off the sugar. Little did he know, those white grains weren't sugar at all... Anyhow, I don't own these characters...except the kitten. Author's Notes: This is a break from my usual depressing stuff and an attempt to write animal fics. If you find this "bloody absurd", you can just get staked.

The black-clad figure sauntered down the alleyway, unseen by other life. He carried a yellow woven basket, which clashed with his leather ensemble, in his right hand. In his left hand he carried a brown paper bag, which seemed to be filled. Every few minutes or so, he would open the basket and whisper something to its contents along the lines of Shut the bloody hell up before I rip your head off an' eat it for dinner!

Yup. It was a perfectly normal night on the Hellmouth.

Anyhow, this creature of darkness was obviously worried about the contents of the basket, despite his earlier anger, for he was carrying the basket carefully. After a few minutes, the man turned into the graveyard and started walking through the valley of tombstones casually. It was as if he always walked through at night. The man didn't stop at any of the stone headers during his stroll, so it seemed as if he wasn't there to pay his respects to the deceased. He didn't exactly seem the type to respect anyone, in fact.

He passed through hundreds of tombstones before turning and staggering to the door of a dusty, black crypt. He put the brown bag down on the dirty graveyard grass and swung the door of the crypt open. After picking up the bag, he stepped inside and slammed the door.

Shedding his leather duster, the creature opened his bag and took out two containers of blood. He took the blood over to the refrigerator in the back of the crypt and stuck the blood on a shelf next to many bottles of assorted liquor.

That being done, he picked up the basket and sat down on a ratty old chair in the center of the room. He opened the basket and stuck one hand into it and pulled out something small, furry, and orange.

"Well you lil' bag o' skin, welcome to your new...er...home," the man said to the animal. The tiny thing shivered and mewled to the man holding him. Seeing the shiver, the figure immediately wrapped the kitten in a blanket and started petting its head.

"You're a helpless lil' thing, eh? You aren't meant to be someone's supper. You're safe with Spike," said the man, indicating himself as the kitten's savior.

Spike smiled down at the orange bundle of fur and kept stroking it until the shivering stopped.

Suddenly, the crypt door swung open. Spike quickly stuck the kitten into the yellow basket and attempted to look bored.

A young blonde stomped into the room and faced Spike, who was still trying to act innocent despite the worried glances he made towards the basket beside him.

The blonde said, "Spike, I need some information on this new demon group."

Spike answered, "Always with the information. Never come around here for anything but. You know, I was just about to offer you some tea, but seein' that this isn't a social call, I guess the tea will just go to waste. Pity."

The blonde just rolled her eyes and tried again. "Spike. What do you know?"

Just then, a faint meow came from the basket. Spike tried to cough loudly to cover it up, but it was too late- Buffy had heard the sound already.

"Spike, did that basket just mew?" asked the blond, looking at Spike suspiciously.

"Wha'? Slayer, you're getting deaf in your old age. It was jus' the refrigerator. Been acting all daft since I spilled blood on the power cord," Spike answered smoothly. The man was obviously skilled at the art of deception.

The Slayer narrowed her eyes at the vampire and asked again. "What's in the basket?"

"You keep your laundry in a basket? Isn't that kinda... I dunno... lame?" she asked, still staring at the basket next to the lounge chair.

"Er...yah. Don't have much else to keep it in, now do I?" he said casually, hoping that his tormentor would go away soon so he could feed the little critter in the basket.

Buffy stared at Spike for a little longer, trying to figure out what he was hiding.

"What were you saying about the demon group," asked Spike, trying to urge Buffy's thoughts away from the basket.

"Oh, right. There are these demons that turn their human prey into bugs before eating them. Do you know anything?"

"Hmm... Sounds like a Solo'd'go demon to me," said Spike, still wanting to get Buffy off his back. "Dunno much about 'em though."

"Solo'd'go demon, huh? I'll ask Giles about it," said Buffy. "By the way- you might want to get that refrigerator fixed soon." The blonde, having other places to go, whirled on her feet and rushed out the crypt door.

Spike let out a sigh of relief and quickly let the kitten out of the yellow prison and started fussing over it.

He cooed and petted the little thing, who had started purring in content.

"We've gotta give you a name, yes we do!" said Spike, nuzzling the kitten in a sickening display of over-affection. "I'll call you Bones, just like the bag o' bones you are."

The cat, newly dubbed as "Bones", just mewed happily and looked up at the vamp with adoring eyes.

"You're the only one who looks at me that way, ya know? To everyone else, I'm just a mean, nasty, ol' thing that has no feelings. It's a horrible un-life."

Bones sensed that the man holding was sad (with his kitty-senses) and started meowing mournfully.

"Oh no, Lil' bit! Don't start cryin' on my account! I'm fine, really!" Spike said, trying to comfort the kitten.

At Spike's soft words, Bones stopped his wailing and burrowed into Spike's chest. A few minutes later, the kitten fell asleep, still attached to the silk shirt.

Spike tried to pry the kitten off his clothes, but there was no way to do so without waking the thing up.

"Those damn kitten claws are bloody strong," murmured Spike. Finding no escape from The Kitten Claws of Doom, Spike settled down on the chair and fell asleep.