Chapter Text
“Singin' the blues while the lady cats cry,
Wild stray cat, you're a real gone guy…..”
Lorne stopped singing as he entered Gunn’s office and saw him listening to the phone receiver that was tucked between his ear and shoulder. At the same time that he was listening, he was busy typing rapidly at his keyboard.
Gunn glanced up, made a final definitive tap on the keyboard and said, “Okay, thanks Arty. Let me know if you or anyone else in your department hears anything.” He placed the receiver down into the cradle, and placed a hand on the side of his jaw to crack his neck.
“I guess you don’t have any word either about our withdrawn, yet fearless leader?” Lorne said, as he took a sip of his cocktail.
Gunn sighed as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Nope. Nothing. I’ve heard back from all of the department heads on my list, and nobody’s heard anything about Angel. It’s been too long. Something must have happened to him.” Gunn stood up and grabbed his jacket. “I need to go down to the lab and see if Wes has had any luck with Fred. This waiting around is killing me.”
“Now hold up, big guy. Don’t you get those little Gunndrop buttons all in a twist. We’ll find him, and Wes will help get Fred back to her little sweet potato self again in less time than it takes Cher to pick out a wig!” Lorne took a sip of his drink and smiled at Gunn. “Why, it could’ve been so much worse! What if she’d changed into a rat! Or a troll. Or something completely bizarre, like a centaur?”
“A centaur, Lorne? Really? This is the real world, not some comic book,” Gunn snorted. He sighed once more, then turned and returned his jacket to the back of his chair. “Actually, you’re right. It could have been a lot worse. How about that centrifuge experiment she did? And you remember what happened with that Van Der Beek machine she built?”
“Van der…oh, you mean Van de Graaff. Our two favorite hunky vampeople were definitely not amused by those two little accidents, were they?”
Gunn grinned. “Nope. But it was hella entertaining for the rest of us.”
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“Oy!” Spike exclaimed. “Give that here, now. You’re markin’ up the floor!”
The kitten had somehow gotten ahold of the permanent black marker that Spike used to touch up his nail polish, and had gotten the cap off. It was attempting to hold the marker between its two front paws while awkwardly scooting itself around on its hind legs, creating an odd pattern on the floor that looked almost like letters.
Spike snatched the marker away and recapped it, returning it to his kitchen counter.
The kitten, clearly tired and exasperated, flopped dramatically to the floor.
“No need to be such a drama queen. Reminds me of another big, hulking, drama queen that I know. He’s always grumpy and moping about too.”
Spike went back to his seat, still talking to the kitten. “His moping used to really set me off, but lately, I kind of feel bad for the pillock. He really does try to take on too much. I know he’s the big hero and all, but a man can only take on so much responsibility before he just pops like a grape. He tries too hard to take care of everyone else all of the time. He really needs someone to take care of him every once in a while, you know?”
To Spike’s surprise, the kitten stood up and walked over to him. The expression on its face didn’t look angry, or demanding. It looked…appreciative?
“You want up here? With me?” He picked up the ball of black fuzz and placed it carefully on his lap. “This isn’t some kind of trick, now, is it? Isn’t some plan to get up here so you can bite me in the bollocks, is it?”
The kitten curled up on his lap and blinked at him. Tentatively, Spike reached out and began to gently rub behind its tiny ears. It was nice to have something to talk to, he thought to himself.
“You know what I did for the tosser? I got him a brand new Viper. Had to hunt it down special for him and everything. Managed to do some fancy sweet talking to Percy to get it approved through him, so it would be a surprise. Fully loaded, got the V-10, black everything. It’s supposed to show up tomorrow, Valentine’s Day, of all bleedin’ days.”
“What?” Spike said to the kitten, as it jerked his head up off his lap to look him in the eye. “I even bought some Manilow CD’s and some of that bloody god awful 80’s pop he likes, to listen to in the car. I can be nice to the old sod, sometimes. Alright, maybe not as often as I should. But he’s so easy to get riled up. Maybe I like the attention, okay?”
Spike started to rub the top of the kitten’s head, and it promptly swatted his hand with its paw. “Don’t mess with the hair, eh? You really do remind me of the prissy geezer. Alright then, back to the ears.” To his surprise, the cat began to purr.
“You know, once upon a time, we used to be best mates. We did everything together. ‘Course, we were evil back then, so it was mostly murdering and slaughtering. But still, we really enjoyed each other’s company, you know? In fact, there was this one time we were even more than best mates…” Spike trailed off uncertainly, lost in past memories.
“Maybe I want that back, okay?” He stood up suddenly, dumping the kitten on the floor. “Maybe I want him back.” The cat looked up at him sadly. Spike froze, a look of distress crossing his face.
“I don’t want him back, do I? It’s not the old him I want, at all. It’s the new him. I want the new him. I want Angel.” Spike buried his face in his hands, while the kitten looked at him in shock. “This is bleedin’ awful.” He groaned. “This couldn’t be worse. Someone might as well stake me now and put me out of my bloody misery.”
“Again. I did it again.” Spike dropped his hands, defeated. “I must be bonkers. I’m nothin’ to him but a reminder of a time he doesn’t want to remember.”
The kitten regarded him gravely, then walked over and hesitantly patted Spike’s boot.
“Why am I doin’ this to myself? I’m a right glutton for punishment, that’s why.” Spike shook his head sadly. “I can never let him find out. Maybe I should just leave. He can’t ever know how I feel. He’d really hate me, then.”
Shoulders slumped, Spike turned and slowly walked over to his bed, shedding his clothes as he went. As he crawled into bed and slipped under the blankets, the kitten followed him and hopped on top of the covers.
“Who am I kiddin’? I can’t leave. He needs someone to look out for him, take care of him sometimes, even when he doesn’t know it. Someone who’s really got his back when he needs it, who’d take a stake for him. Someone who actually understands what he is, who he is.” He let out a sad sigh and closed his eyes. “Guess that’s just my lot, then.”
Spike rolled away onto his side. “Don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep, I’m so worried about him. Just want to know that he’s safe.”
The cat curled into a tiny ball, and pressed itself tightly into the small of Spike’s back. Eventually, Spike drifted off to the soothing rumbles of a purring kitten.
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Fred jumped about excitedly.
“I think you’re right,” Wes exclaimed. “If we recalibrate the signal phase by .002, and adjust the radius of the arc to expand throughout the city of L.A., we should be able to reverse the effects on anyone originally affected by the Transmogrifier! Fred! You’re brilliant!”
He swept a purring Fred into his arms, pressed his cheek against her madly rubbing forehead, and then kissed her right on her fluffy little cheek. Suddenly realizing what he had done, Wesley quickly pulled back and gently placed her back on the floor.
“Terribly sorry, Fred. I don’t know what came over me. Relief, I suppose. Just glad we’ll be able to set things to right.”
Fred sat and regarded him thoughtfully, then crawled up his pant leg, extending her front paws. Wesley looked down at her and carefully picked her back up. She stretched up even higher, and gently touched her tiny pink nose to the tip of his.
Wes closed his eyes, and smiled.
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Angel found himself slowly emerging from the deepest, most restful sleep he’d had in ages. He burrowed himself even further into the heavy cocoon of blankets that weighed comfortably on him, and pulled the smooth, lean body he was wrapped around even closer. Eyes still closed, his languid form savored the tactile feel of his naked skin pressed against even more bare skin. He lightly pressed his nose down into the soft hollow of neck and shoulder, and took a quiet, deliberate breath to inhale the comforting smoky smell of bourbon, leather and … Spike?
Angel froze, his eyes snapping open and darting quickly around to take in the scene around him. Depressing, bare, gray-painted brick walls. No windows. Dank, musty smell of basement. Cheap, tacky lamp. Bed barely big enough for one, let alone two. Definitely still in Spike’s apartment.
Carefully, he pulled his head back a few inches and looked down. Ridiculous radioactive hair. Absurdly impossible cheekbones. Preposterously small frame for such a big personality. Definitely still Spike.
Nervously, he glanced down at his own body. Pale, vampire skin. Broad chest. Brawny, non-furry arms. No claws. Definitely not still a cat.
Angel gave a small sigh of relief and looked down at the way Spike’s naked body curved to perfection to fit his own frame, his own heavier, more muscular arms wrapped around the thin form. He looked so young, so vulnerable and peaceful, his pale skin flawless in the dim light. This was the other side of Spike. The side that he always tried to hide with all of his swagger, big coat and sharp tongue. A small smile of contentment curved one side of Angel’s mouth as he settled back down to bury his face in the crook of Spike’s neck.
Is he ever going to be in for a big Valentine’s Day surprise when he wakes up, Angel thought with a sleepy smile, as he closed his eyes and pulled Spike in even closer.
