Spike V. Kitten
Spike sniffed the oily stain on the parking lot gravel and wrinkled his nose at the acrid odor, making a huffing growl of disapproval. Ech. He looked up to make sure Sam and Dean were still there…yep, there they were! Satisfied his packmates were near, he wandered over to the stairs leading up the side of the big place, the…he frowned, thinking as hard as he could…motel, yeah that was the word! Craning his neck up he thought about climbing the steps to see if they’d lead somewhere fun but then stopped, head cocked to one side at a sound that caught his attention. Crouching down instead of climbing up he peered under the motel stairs and then yelped, stumbling back in surprise. There were two eyes gleaming at him from underneath the stairs! Scary eyes.
Fearful thoughts flashed through Spike’s mind about his old packmates and he whimpered softly. Was it one of his kind? Warily backing away, he watched the eyes come closer, closing the distance between them faster than Spike could back away. And then the eyes emerged from the darkness and Spike blinked and let out a soft ‘yip’ of surprise. It wasn’t one of his kind at all. He didn’t know what it was. It was small. Smaller than even he was! It had grey fur and pointy ears and it looked kind of cool. Spike wondered if it was friendly. Maybe it would play with him? Hesitantly, he reached his neck out and sniffed at it, little tail wagging hesitantly.
The reaction was instant and not good! The grey, furry thing puffed up real big! And then it hissed and growled and Spike realized that this thing was a very bad, no good thing as he scrambled back, yipping in terror and racing across the parking lot to where his packmates would protect him from the very bad, no good thing.
Reaching his packmate Dean, the puppy dove behind Dean’s large form and hunched shivering in his packmate’s protective shadow.
Dean looked down at the puppy cowering at his feet and, raising an eyebrow, reached a hand down to lift Spike up into warm, protective arms as his amused voice sounded in Spike’s ear. “Dude. You’re a big, bad hellhound and that,” Dean pointed at where the grey furry thing was now sitting on the pavement glaring at Spike with cold, beady eyes. “That is a harmless little ball of fluff called a kitten. Running away from that? Is not going to be good for your reputation with the girl dogs.”
Spike’s response was to whimper again and try to shift further into Dean’s protective embrace. Anyway, he didn’t even like girl dogs.
Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, I’ll protect you from the big bad. C’mon,” he tucked Spike in the crook of one arm and headed over to where Sam was emerging from the little front office with a key dangling between long fingers. As his packmates pulled their bags from the car, Spike looked back at the little fuzzy being called ‘kitten.’ As their eyes met it immediately hissed and puffed up to twice its size, eyes promising terrible things. Were its eyes glowing? Spike whined. That kitten? Was mean.
Spike leapt out of the Impala and immediately took stock of the area. Hmm, this place seemed familiar. He lowered his head to snuffle inquiringly at the sun warmed asphalt.
“Don’t wander off Spike,” Dean reminded him as he slammed the driver door shut and he and Sam strode into the little office which the boys had apologetically pointed out didn’t allow dogs. Spike gave a growl/snort of annoyance. Dean was always telling him not to wander off. Did Spike ever wander off? No Spike did not. Sam was the one who freaking wandered off. Did Dean ever tell Sam not to wander off? Well, okay, yeah he did, Spike admitted as he padded over to the sidewalk and hunkered down, his massive form sprawling across the cracked pavement, settling his head down between his front paws and preparing to snooze. Not that warning Sam ever did Dean much good, Spike thought drowsily as he felt the edges of sleep begin to pull him under. Because Sam still managed to wander off or get kidnapped (people sure did love to kidnap Sam) and had to be rescued by Dean and Spike too damn often for comfort.
Spike had managed to drift into a comfortable doze and was working a dream involving a very fine looking Rottweiler he’d met last month when a noise penetrated the beginnings of his dream state and had his head jerking up. He peered around for the source and when he spotted it gave a snort of surprise as he watched yellow eyes blinking at him from across the lot, beneath the motel stairs. What the…a flash of memory hit him. Hey! It was that fucking cat!
He remembered this place now. This was where Dean had started training him how to attack when he was still just a pup. This was where he’d run from the really mean kitten which, okay, Spike admitted, not his finest moment. Shaking his massive head and giving a gruff half growl, Spike heaved his heavily muscled body up and approached the gleaming eyes.
He’d been such a young pup back then, Spike remembered. He’d never even seen a cat before; hadn’t known what one was. As he loped over he watched the yellow eyes emerge from the dark attached to a face with pointy ears, grey fur and a disdainful expression.
Yep, same damn cat. It was all grown up now of course, just like Spike. Damn, it was big too. Its sleekly muscled body was closer in size to a bobcat than a housecat but its eyes were still the same unfriendly glare and as Spike got closer it hissed and puffed up just like it had all those years ago. Spike huffed in amusement. He wasn’t a young pup anymore and his days of running from cats, even huge ass mutant cats like this one, were way the fuck over.
He thought about scaring the stupid cat silly for fun but decided that he was above that (and besides it would be too much damned work). Nah, he’d go back to his nap instead. He gave a narrow eyed glare as a matter of principle and started to turn when the cat reached out and in a flash of claws took a swipe at Spike’s face leaving a trail of pain burning into his sensitive muzzle.
Shit! With a pained yelp, Spike stumbled back, shaking his huge head vigorously and blinking against the tears. With his muzzle throbbing, he looked incredulously at the feline who looked back at him with vicious satisfaction in its evil, evil eyes.
Spike felt his hackles rise and a low growl began vibrating from deep within his chest, emerging from his throat in a bass rumble of warning.
Oh it was on.
Dean and Sam emerged from the front office and headed over to the Impala to pull the car closer to their assigned room. As they neared the car they frowned in unison at the sight of Spike sitting patiently next to the car looking as innocent as a 250 lb. hellhound could look.
Dean’s eyes narrowed as he took in Spike’s ‘somehow managing to be sincere’ red eyes.
“What did you do?” he asked, voice going deep with suspicion. He knew his hellhound and his hellhound was up to something. His frown deepened into concern. “And what happened to your face?” He leaned in to get a better look at the small furrows scoring the hell hound’s muzzle.
Spike’s only response was to cock his head in an attempt to look even more innocent.
Dean gave a snort of disbelief. It was amazing how harmless Spike could manage to look. Apparently, the Winchester 'con' genes were transmittable from owner to dog because Spike managed to charm people wherever they went, despite his admittedly ugly face, massive bulk and habit of breathing fire whenever he was unhappy. He also managed an impressive Seeing Eye Dog act on cue.
Dean turned and scanned the parking lot to see if he could figure out what Spike had been up to but there were no obvious screaming civilians running around, yelling about missing chickens or pies (Spike had a major weakness for apple pie) and nothing looked recently vandalized by hell fire or hell pee. Huh. After another minute of stern staring which, not surprisingly, resulted in absolutely no confessions of dog guilt, the brothers shared a mutual ‘whatever’ shrug and Dean opened the back door. Spike immediately vaulted onto the back seat cushion, lined with his favorite blanket, and settled down with a contented grunt.
As Dean started the engine both brothers froze with expressions of pure disgust as Spike let loose a car shaking burp and a foul odor wafted to the front seat to assault their noses.
“Dude, what the fuck did you eat?!” Dean asked, holding a hand to pinch his nose shut as he frantically fanned the air in the car with the other while Sam just stuck his big head out the window and frantically inhaled clean air. “It smells like something died in here!”
Spike offered an apologetic ‘wuff’ and lowered his head down to the seat cushion with a sigh. Nope, not in here.
As they pulled around the corner of the motel Dean noticed Sam looking around with his ‘thinking’ frown.
“Does this place look familiar to you?”