Author: Meltha
Rating: G
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Meltha
Spoilers: Season 5 of Angel
Distribution: Fanfiction.net and the Adventures of Mr. Gordo. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Wolfram & Hart has a very unusual, but much-needed, visitor.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Author's Note: This was in answer to a challenge at the Adventures of Mr. Gordo Yahoo! Group

Group Therapy

“Wes? Any idea?” Angel asked, staring at the newest resident of what was once Fred’s laboratory and letting his mouth gape open in shock.

“I think I can safely say this is completely out of my experience,” Wesley said, his eyebrows screwed together in bewilderment. “You say it just… appeared in your office?”

“In a big puff of pink smoke,” Angel said, not even sure he believed himself.

“And its first words to you were…” Wesley began, but the creature cut him off.

“Hug me!” it called sadly, snuffling its snout.

“Yeah,” Angel responded. “That. Little weird, isn’t it?”

“We dealt with a demon this morning that was capable of melting the human spleen with a look. And yet, oddly, I agree with you. This does indeed seem weirder,” Wesley said, eyeing their guest uncomfortably.

It was a pig, but not just any normal, barnyard pig. No, this pig was all of eight feet tall, walked on its plump little hind legs, and, most startling of all, appeared to be made of a fluffy plush material. It was a moving, walking, talking stuffed animal. And it was enormous.

“Hug me?” it said again, more uncertainly. Then it sat down on the floor of the lab, buried its face in its front hooves, and began to sob.

“Uh… there, there?” Angel said uncomfortably as he patted the pig’s back. “It’ll… be okay?”

The pig looked up for a moment, its face wrinkling in sadness, and it shook its head. A moment later, it was back to crying.

“He’s kind of a cute little… er, big guy,” Angel said. “You don’t think it’s dangerous, do you?”

“I doubt it has radioactive polyester or a set of dagger-sharp claws anywhere, so I’d say no,” Wesley stated, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m really not sure what to do with it.”

At that moment, the lab door burst open and Spike stalked in, his face so angry that it looked like a thundercloud.

“What the bleedin’ blue blazes is goin’ on around here!” he yelled at Angel. “I go down to the cafeteria for my usual morning Wheatabix, and I get told that YOU said they weren’t supposed to be on the menu anymore! And why the hell do you have an eight foot sobbing stuffed pig in here?”

The pig in question raised its head from its hooves and looked directly at Spike.

“Hug me?” it said in a tearful voice.

Spike looked from Angel to Wesley. “There something you want to tell me about the Oscar Meyer spokesmen with the snuggling issues over there?”

“Just shut up, Spike,” Angel said in a growl. “It’s already a strange enough day without you adding to it.”

“Right. Because my mere existence is more troubling than the presence of a living stuffed animal in this room,” Spike said with an eye roll. “Anyone ask it what it wants?”

“Excuse me?” Wesley said disbelieving me.

“You or Count Von Depressing over there. Did either of you ask it what it wants?” he repeated, making it clear he found them both a bit dim.

“Of course I didn’t ask it what it wants!” Wesley snapped. “I don’t talk to stuffed animals!”

“Yeah, well, seems one’s talkin’ to you, so you’d best be a bit polite,” Spike said in a tone usually reserved for kindergartners. “Oi! You! Piggy!”

“Oh, yes, very polite, Spike,” Angel groaned.

“Yeah, well, at least I’m talking to the bloke,” Spike shot at him. He turned his attention back to the huge stuffed pig. “S’all right, now. You don’t hurt us, we won’t hurt you, right?”

“Hug me?” it asked once more.

“Ehm… can I ask why?” Spike said, showing far more patience than most would have though likely.

The piggy sniffled again, then lifted its glossy shoe button eyes to Spike. “Lonely,” it said simply.

“You’re lonely? That what’s wrong?” Spike asked as Angel and Wesley both stared at him.

The pig shook its head slowly.

“You’re not. Then… oh…,” Spike said slowly as comprehension dawned. “We’re the lonely ones, then, I take it.”

The pig nodded in reply, his gaze holding all three of them. Wesley and his sorrow over the death of Fred and renewed guilt for kidnapping Connor, Angel and his pain over Cordelia’s passing and his separation from his son, and Spike with his lifetimes of unrequited love and failed relationships: this was why the pig had come.

“Extraordinary,” Wesley said. “I do believe… I think it’s possible that our feelings of sadness have triggered some sort of mystical healing potential. Our very depression has brought into being a creature whose sole purpose is to provide comfort. How very odd.”

“Yeah,” Spike said uncertainly. “So, what do we do?”

“Hug me?” the pig invited again.

The trio looked at one another uncertainly.

“Who wants to go first?” Wesley asked after an uncomfortable pause.

“All!” the pig said with happiness, waddling towards them.

“Ooof!” cried three males’ voices at once as they suddenly found themselves beset with armfuls of pink fur, the giant piggy’s arms squeezing them tightly and refusing to let go. Slowly, a change began to come over them. Wes felt his grief, though still present, begin to feel less likely to overwhelm him. Angel, though Cordy and Connor were still in his thoughts, felt a renewed desire to fight for what he knew was right. Spike, his life still in tatters around him, suddenly realized that it was not his fault the ones he loved hadn’t felt the same. As these feelings began to replace the old ones, a deep sense of calm flooded all of them, and they realized that, as different as they were, they were bound together in their goals, and that none of them was alone.

Also, that none of them could move.

“Pig?” Spike squeezed out. “Angel and I don’t need to breathe, but Wes over here is turning an odd shade of purple.”

Immediately, the pig let go. “Sorry,” it apologized.

“You goin’ now?” Spike asked. “Mission accomplished and all?”

The pig nodded happily.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ve got a three o’clock meeting. Uh… thanks,” Angel said gruffly and rushed from the room, more than a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, well, I gotta get crackin’ too,” Spike said, and sailed out of the room without a backward glance.

“I’m afraid I really must get back to my department as well. I trust you can show yourself out, yes?” Wesley asked uncertainly.

The pig nodded his head, and Wesley exited quickly. The pig remained where he was, though. A few minutes passed in the empty lab before the door re-opened, and a figure tentatively stepped into the room.

“Still here, then?” Spike said.

The pig tilted its head in a manner that obviously meant “duh.”

“Just wanted to, you know, ehm,” Spike edged a little closer. “Oh, bleeding hell, why not?”

And he threw his arms around the pig once again, cuddling him for dear life. “Knew I recognized that scent. Never thought I’d see you again, Mr. Gordo. Good to see you got out of Sunny-D, even if things are a little… different… for you.”

The pig squeezed Spike in return, whispered a soft “love you,” then slowly dissolved into pink vapor once again, off to help yet another group of lonely people or demons somewhere in the world.