Fic: In Sunshine or In Shadow, part 3


~.~.~.~

"What should we call him?" asked Willow.

How about Angel he thought, padding alongside their motley group.

Buffy looked down at him. "I'm sure he already has a name. We just don't know what it is. Can't we just stick with Cat?"

Angel felt his tale curl, amused at her practicality.

"That's not very friendly; he needs a name, even if it’s not his original name."

"He does?" asked Xander.

"You named the rats, didn't you? If the rats get a name, then the cat should."

He'd named the rats? Figured.

"So?" prompted Willow.

Buffy raised her hands, shrugging. "I dunno, but I'm doing a pre-emptive veto of Tom."

"So what do you think, Willow?" asked Xander.

"What do you mean?"

"You've had a name in mind for the last two blocks."

"How'd you know?"

"I just know. Maybe something to do with being friends since, oh, ever."

Friendship. Spanning over a decade for two people who hadn't finished their second one. What a novel idea. He'd known Darla, Dru, and even Spike longer than Sunnydale had existed, but that wasn't really friendship. Maybe if he'd known it when alive, he'd know how to nurture it now. Did Willow and Xander have any idea they were envied for their shared lives? How lucky they were? He bumped up against Buffy, thankful to have her in his life – as much or as little as she allowed.

She gave him a smile, and then asked, "So what's the name, Willow?"

"I was thinking Lucky."

"Lucky?" they questioned.

"Just listen," she implored. "It was lucky for Wesley that he showed up when he did. Lucky for us that he found us again."

"Lucky that the Mr. Whitter had food," said Oz.

"And lucky that he was agreeable to coming with us," added Xander.

"So what do you think, cat? Should we call you Lucky?" asked Buffy. "I know it's not your name, but it's the best we've got."

Lucky was the last thing Angel felt, but Buffy had a point. It wasn't going to get better. He did his best to give a meow of affirmation.

"So, was that a yes?" asked Oz.

"Lucky it is," said Buffy, stopping in front of her house.

"Are you going to bring Lucky to school tomorrow?" Willow was clearly pleased with her name being chosen.

"I should really walk you guys home. And then one of you could keep him," said Buffy.

Angel yelped in protest.

"We'll be fine," Xander assured her. "You said it yourself that you haven't seen a demon since last week. I'd offer to keep the ca-- Lucky, but you've met my family. I'm reserving that invitation for my worst enemy."

"We can handle the rats," said Willow, touching the hilt of her knife. "And my mom's allergic to cats."

"Oz?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I could, but let's ask him. Lucky? Do you want to flop at my pad or stay at Chez Summers?"

Angel bumped his head against Buffy's calf, purring.

"Alright, alright! I'm outvoted four to one. I get it."

She didn't really sound unhappy about it, which made his purr deepen to a rumble.

~.~.~.~

"It turns out that while I can change them, I don't know how to manage them. They're running rampant. That wasn't the plan, I swear it."

They'd traded places and he was now at her desk reading the book – a previously unknown soft-sided Transmogrifying Demons for Dummies. Or at least that's what the scribe from the middle ages would have named it if he'd been able to see into the future.

"So you used the pipe, not knowing what would happen?" asked Rupert.

"I didn’t really believe what the book claimed about the pipe being magic. I tried it as a lark," Maggie said in her defense, pacing the short length of her office. "Besides it claimed only a rare few could tap into its fuller power."

"And once you knew the magic was real, did it not seem prudent to stop?" How she had been able to start in the first place was mystifying. Where was that information in this folio?

"It seemed like a better idea than a city full of demons. Besides I thought the Mayor—"

That got his attention. "You thought the Mayor would what?"

"It sounds so stupid now," she said, looking away.

"I may not have heard it all, trust me, it can't be worse than other matters I've addressed."

"Do you have any idea of how expensive it is to run a museum of this nature? The constant fundraising?"

"Please get to the point. If this involves the Mayor… you have no idea who – or what – you're dealing with."

"I figured that out a little too late. I thought the city would gladly pay for the wholesale removal of the demons."

"You tried to extort the mayor?"

"No! I thought we had a deal!" She was waving her arms, clearly irate. "But that little weasel, Snyder, clearly is not the mover and shaker he claimed to be."

Oh, this was just getting better and better. He resisted the urge to tell her she was stupid, to point out the absolute folly. It was clear she realized that. Besides, until he grasped how she had managed to do the transformation, they might still need her help.

Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me that they don't know your name."

"I've put myself in that kind of danger?"

He nodded in the affirmative.

"I used the name Piper."

"But of course. That's a small fact in our favor. But why did the pipe work for you? Everything I keep reading is about the Order of the Pied. And assuming you are telling me the truth, you've had no experience with a magic based organization."

She stopped pacing and smiled. "That, I can explain. I know why I'm part of this Order of the Pied – and you are too."

~.~.~.~

"If I leave you outside you might not be here in the morning. What if I set you up in the garage?"

If he had to, he had to, but he'd rather not. Besides, Joyce might find him there. He chattered at her and shook his head no.

"Okay, okay. Point taken. Here's the deal. I need to see if my mom is home before you come in. So wait here."

Might as well make himself presentable while he was waiting. Twisting his head around in a way only cats and Beetlejuice could manage, he licked the fur on his back. He had just finished when Buffy open the door and popped her head out, thankfully interrupting him before he'd switched to cleaning his stomach. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The instincts that went with this form were becoming far too normalized, and increasingly harder to resist.

"You're in luck, Lucky. The coast is clear and Mom has lots of Chicken of the Sea." She held a couple cans in one hand and a can opener in the other. "Come on in."

Invitation proffered, Angel trotted inside, amazed at how different everything looked from this angle. All cupboard doors and air vents. Reaching the stairs, he couldn't resist taking two at a time, racing up them and down the hall to Buffy's room.

"Wait up!" called Buffy, fast on his heals.

He bumped the door with his forehead and it swung open far enough to allow him to squeeze inside.

"How'd you know which one was my room?"

He stopped, abruptly reminded of how recently he'd been here, pretending to be Angelus. Or more accurately, pretending to be without his soul. Angelus was always a part of him. And that's why Buffy didn't want him around. Yet here he was in her bedroom. Great boundaries.

"What's with the nearly tripping me? Huh?" asked Buffy, side-stepping him with grace. "Breaking my leg would not qualify as lucky. I'm gonna grab some more supplies. If you hear my mom come home, please don't start making kitty noises."

She shut him in and he had an overpowering urge to be on the other side of the closed door. He fished a paw under the door, before realizing how pointless that activity was. As if that would make the door open. Sitting back on his haunches, he considered the possibility of using his paws to turn the knob before recognizing that was self-defeating. This was where he wanted to be. Needing to distract himself, he first rubbed his cheeks against the corners of her dresser, then he walked the perimeter of her room, sniffing it, measuring it, and assuring himself there was nothing amiss.

What was taking her so long? Tired of waiting, he jumped up onto her bed and curled himself into a ball.

~.~.~.~

"I can't believe how Lucky took to Buffy. Do you think Mrs. Summers will let her keep him?"

"Hard telling. First Buffy would have to let her mom in the loop," said Xander.

"You don't think she will?" asked Willow

"Buffy's my friend, but she's all about the secrets," Xander replied, shrugging.

Oz listened to the conversation with one ear, mulling over what was so familiar about the cat, and how taken it was with Buffy. When they got to his place he said, "How about we take my van and go to Angel's mansion."

"Say what?" asked Xander.

"I think there's a connection between the cat and Angel."

"We should go back and get Buffy," suggested Willow.

Oz shook his head. "It's just a hunch. I don't want to worry her if I'm wrong."

"Oh. I was going to do the extra credit for physics class, but if Angel's in trouble, we better find out."

"He might be in a lot of trouble," said Oz.

Xander sighed. "Part of me wants to ask why we care if a vampire is in trouble, but the other part of me knows the answer: Buffy."

"Let's go."

~.~.~.~

"Rupert, I can't thank you enough for your help," said Maggie, her arm hooked in his.

"Assuming we can pull this off, you're welcome. And either way, I'd recommend you take a vacation, if not a sabbatical, as soon as possible."

"I'll get through the Mayor's speech and then I'm going home to back my bags," she promised.

"The mayor's coming?"

"Didn't I mention he was attending? This is the kick-off gala for the year long Mysteries of History exhibits."

Rupert was about to ask himself if this situation could get any worse when the reached Wesley, who was in deep conversation with a brunette.

"If you think what happened in Roanoke is frightening, wait until I tell you what was discovered under the American Stonehenge. Everyone knows about the magnetism—"

"Ah, Wes, there you are. Terrible news. This isn't the Fowler Museum."

"It's not? "

He sounded nearly believable in his disbelief. "We're UC-Sunnydale. The Fowler's at UCLA."

"Oh, my. Is that far from here?"

"Quite. We must leave." Over Wes' shoulder he saw the Mayor emerging from another area of the gallery. "Immediately."

"But!"

"Good bye, doctor," he called as he grabbed Wesley's elbow and propelled him out of the museum."

~.~.~.~

Angel heard the tread of Buffy’s feet on the steps, and the clatter of objects as she balanced them while opening door. Even so, he found it hard to do much more than open one eye to watch.

"Glad to see you've made yourself at home."

He knew what the dishes were for, and, strangely, found himself wide awake as he heard the distinctive cranking noise of the can opener. Hopping down, he rubbed against her legs in a figure eight form.

"You must really like tuna," she said, emptying it onto a plate, and then rising. "Or be really hungry."

He waited until she'd moved away and started fiddling with the plastic tub she'd brought before he approached the dish, trying a bite. Why was he suddenly shy about eating in front her? He’d been okay earlier with the kibble. Granted, he'd never been comfortable drinking blood in front of her, but this was tuna.

"I hope you appreciate this, Lucky. I was going to check on my boyfriend, but I probably can't leave you alone, can I?"

"Meow?" Angel abandoned the dish, trotting over to her.

"Probably sounds silly that I was going to check on him, as if he can't take care of himself. But what if someone was using that Pipe of Hamelin on him? What if they hurt him?"

He'd known she worried about him. That had been particularly evident when he'd first come back from hell. Worried about him. Worried by him. But to hear her voice it, to hear that catch in her voice? It both quenched an uncertainty that haunted him and made the need to tell her who he was all the more urgent. At least she knew about Piper and her recorder. That had to be what she meant. In the meantime, he settled for what he could give her, bumping against her hand and purring.

~.~.~.~

"Angel?" called Willow. "Are you here?"

"It's okay if you're not," muttered Xander.

Oz moved from the main room to the bedroom and back again, verifying what his nose was telling him.

"So what does it mean that he'd not here?" asked Willow.

"It means he's Lucky," said Oz.

"In what way is he lucky?" asked Xander.

"Not that kind of lucky. He's the cat.

"Are you sure?"

"Smell isn't an exact science, but the scent of that cat and Angel's scent are strangely similar."

"How's that possible?" asked Willow "There wasn't mention of that in the research. Other than the children being turned to rats. Does that mean the rats aren't rats?"

"That is likely," said Oz.

"What if they're children?" asked Willow, her hand at her mouth.

"We should go back and tell Buffy," said Xander.

"We would have heard if that many children were missing, even in Sunnydale," Oz assured her.

"But they're something," pointed out Xander. "Time for the bat signal? I know which convenience stores have donuts at this hour."

"Or we could wait until tomorrow," suggested Oz.

"But why?" asked Willow.

"After we tell her, what next?"

"We find a way to turn him back," answered Willow.

"If there is a way," said Xander.

"There has to be!"

"I'm sure there is," Oz assured her. "But we won't have that answer tonight. Particularly with Giles and Wes off doing their thing. Right now Buffy thinks Angel is fine."

"Maybe not fine," said Xander, waving the note that had been on the mantel and passing it to Willow.

She frowned. "Yeah, she's worried. But Oz is right. There's nothing good that can come from telling her tonight. I can't think of any trouble that can come from waiting, can you?"

~.~.~.~

Angel had thought Buffy's explanation of the point of the plastic bucket with shredded newspaper was the epitome of embarrassment. And then without warning, she crossed her arms, grabbing the hem of shirt and pulling it over her head, lacking any self-consciousness as she began to shimmy out of her jeans, her breasts jiggling in their lace cups.

A half dozen of his favorite fantasies started like this, except she knew he was there. Under these conditions it was a mocking twist of those fantasies. He could make a good guess of Buffy's reaction when she learned his true identity and thought back to this. Mortification came to mind. In that moment, the makeshift litter box became immensely fascinating.

Now in her a camisole top and cotton pant bottoms, Buffy padded to the door to turn off the light. "Good night, Lucky," she said and she slipped into bed.

Angel stared at Buffy's form, jealous of the blanket she wrapped around herself. Would it be so wrong join her on the bed? Nothing untoward, just to share her warmth once again.

He rubbed a paw across his face. How sick was he? Turning away, he sought out the cushioned chair. The one on the other side of her room, though how meaningful that gesture was in a room this small was questionable. Kneading the cushion, he settled down, curling up so that his tail touched his nose.

It was then that he heard her. Turning his ears, he listened intently. She was crying quietly enough he’d barely picked up on it. There was no way her mother would know; behavior honed by experience. His ears drooped as he connected the dots that he was the reason for her unhappiness.

Jumping down, he padded over to her bed. He stretched up on his back legs so that his front paws were able to rest on the covers, seeking a better look at her. She was lying on her back, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, with tears sliding down her cheeks, catching on her ears.

She must have sensed him staring, as she opened her eyes and turned toward him, whispering, "Uh, hey Lucky. Do you need something?"

He gave her a meow, which came out far too plaintively to give comfort.

"Shh. My mom's hearing got an upgrade after last spring."

He tried to let out a much quieter meow, but he was unwilling to pretend nothing was amiss.

"Do you want up?"

Close enough to be an invitation. He jumped up on the bed, brushing his cheek against the tear stains on her cheek. Her fingers rose to the spot he'd touched.

"It's nothing," she said. "I'm okay. Really."

It was rather hard to contradict her when he lacked words, but not impossible. He curled up next to her, tucking his chin on her shoulder. She took a shuddering breath, and then laid her chin on top of his head.

~.~.~.~

"Her motive was making a profit?" asked Wesley incredulously, pulling his tie loose as they entered Rupert's home. "Not ridding the world of demonic forces or world domination?"

"Welcome to America," said Rupert, shedding his jacket.

"Quite." Wes wasn't quite sure what the protocol was at this point. Scotch in the living room or research at the table."Shall I make tea?"

"It will be a long night, won't it? Thank you."

~.~.~.~

"I haven't slept that soundly in forever," said Buffy, snuggling closer. "Mmm, you're so warm. Like my own personal water bottle. I wonder if that's what I feel like to Angel?"

He hadn't thought of it that way, but it was a good parallel.

"As much as I'd like to stay here forever and snuggle with you, if I don't get up, we'll be late for school." With an unexpected kiss to his forehead, she was a whirlwind of action, throwing back the covers, opening a new can of tuna, then wrapping herself in a pink, terrycloth robe and slipping out of her room. The door closed with a soft click.

With a herculean push of effort he stood and stretched deeply and yawned. He'd slept unusually well himself.

With a flick of his tail, he hopped down. While there were far worse things than his current situation, he was getting far too complacent. He needed to get serious about communicating with Buffy and finding a solution to this matter.

But until Buffy returned, he was going to lay in the sunbeam coming through her window.

~.~.~.~

Ah, the irony. School was closed on account of the rats, but here they all were, gathering in the library.

"Where's Lucky?" asked Willow as she came through the swinging door.

"Good morning to you, too," she replied, walking to the large table and unhooking her backpack.

"Good morning, Buffy," said Giles. "We don't mean to be impolite, but I must ask where the cat is."

They were clustered around her as she unzipped the backpack. Lucky's head popped up in the opening, and he gracefully jumped onto the table, sitting on his back haunches as if he was partaking in the gathering.

"Oops," she quipped, "cat's out of the bag!"

She expected a quality groan for that, at least from Xander. But they all just looked at her. It was the same look Giles had given her when he'd finally told her the prophecy regarding the Anointed One.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

They continued to look at her and then at each other. No one spoke.

"Now you're starting to scare me. What's going on?"

"Oz made a discovery last night," said Giles.

"But we were together."

"It was after that, Buffy," said Willow. "Oz had a hunch, and he was right, but it's okay because Giles has a solution."

"You were right about what?" she asked Oz, then turned toward Giles, "And what is the solution to the problem that's way too vague."

"Perhaps you've noticed that the cat is rather sentient," said Wesley.

Buffy was ready to grab him by the lapels and shake him until someone gave her an answer, but Giles, thankfully, took over.

"Buffy, keep in mind we think we have a solution and I could do a long lead up, but the bottom line is that we believe the cat is Angel."

They were all staring at her, waiting for her reaction. Lucky was staring at her, waiting for her reaction. Looking into his deep brown eyes, it didn't sound impossible.

"Angel?"

His eyes squeezed shut in that all-knowing, but not all-telling way cats – and, well, to be honest, Angel - had.

"Angel? Meow or something."

She didn't expect the something to be him reaching a paw up and touching cross around her neck, the one he'd given her, the one that burned when they first kissed. Buffy covered her mouth with her hand, trying to avoid saying something she'd regret while wrapping her mind around the reality.

"But, Buffy! Listen," implored Willow. "Giles can fix it."

"I should be able to fix it."

"How?" she whispered. "Can we sit down for this?"

Buffy pulled out a chair for Luck— Angel. Five minutes ago she would have encouraged him to sit in her lap. But that was so five minutes ago.

In a daze she watched and listened as Giles showed her the recorder-like instrument, about the book that Prof. Koppenberg had found in a collection of odds and ends left by the previous curator, how only the Order of Pied could work the pipe, that the R.O.U.S.s were demons of various kinds – other than Angel, who was a cat. Koppenberg had made them all, but didn't know how to unmake them or drive them into the sea like the original Pied Piper.

Cutting through the multiple layers of explanation and theory, she asked what mattered, "How are you able to work the pipe? Somewhere in that overload of explanation didn't you say that only select people can work the magic."

"That is correct," said Wesley. "By lucky happenstance, Mr. Giles is part of The Order of Pied."

Giles looked embarrassed by the attention. "It's simply a fancy way of saying that both Prof. Koppenberg and I have heterochromia."

"And heterochromia is a fancy way of saying…"

"Our eyes have more than one color. Prof. Koppenberg's was much more distinctive, having one blue eye and one brown, but I have a patch of brown in my left eye. Some might consider them pied."

"But you can change him back?"

"It has worked on more than one rat, so yes, I believe so."

"So what are we waiting for? Play Mary had a Little Lamb. Play something by Cat Stevens. Just play it!" Yeah, she knew how to deal with all things Angel with a cool eye and a steady hand.

"Due to Oz's foresight, we've set up his cage for Angel."

"Why does he need a cage?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"Privacy," said Oz. "My clothes are always tattered at best when I change."

The mention of clothes had her thinking of last evening. And this morning. And the changing in front of him. "Oh."

"There haven't been any known complications with the others and their transformations, but this is all rather new."

So maybe he'd die. But then, that was a maybe they both lived with every day.

If a cat could look guilty, Angel did. He stretched from his chair to hers, his padded feet on the arm of her chair, raising his head close to hers. She really wasn’t ready for this, and did Angel have a whole new list of things to explain to her. But when they were alone. For now he needed her support. She leaned toward him, her eyes closed as he brushed his cheek against hers.

She held her eyes closed a little longer, letting all of them rearrange themselves. Then the music started. It was sad, then mournful. Brushing a tear from her eyes, she stood with them, waiting for Angel to return.

Giles lowered the pipe. "He's back. It may take a while for him to regain consciousness."

Oz took a second blanket into the book cage and then slipped back out. "He's covered now."

"And there's a change of clothes," offered Willow. "We got them from his place last night."

Giles set his hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you wait with him? We should be able to conduct the rest of the transformations, Buffy. The daylight will give us all a distinct advantage."

"Thanks. I don’t want him to walk up like this alone." A smile tugged at her lips. "And I don't think he want to wake up with an audience."

After they filed out of the library, she crept into the cage, gently setting his head on her lap, and waited for him to wake. Running her fingers through his hair, she hoped this time they'd both have the words they needed.

~.~.~.~

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.

And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.


~.~.~.~Fin~.~.~.~




It's the Writers, Stupid prompt:
"I hate being pawed."
"Ah, but then maybe you've never been pawed properly."
- Loretta Young and Lyle Talbot in She Had to Say Yes.
Written by John Francis Larkin (story Customer's Girl), Rian James and Don Mullaly (screenplay).




Part 1, Part 2