I don't own BTVS or Angel and I don't deserve them, because I neglect them for way too long. I don't own the people in this story, although I wouldn't neglect a one of them for any longer than was absolutely necessary. I'm a dreadful, awful girl and I should be punished. Please don't let your reviews reflect your anger about my being slow to update. I was ill and I'm better now. *grin* Anyway, Joss is a lean, mean writing machine... I'm a slightly lean, kinda' ornery wanna-be author, who's just having loads of fun writing fanfics. So, there you have it! All right... It's been a while. What do I say now? Oh yeah...

On with the show.

::Carpe Diem- Cat Scratch Fever::

The man sat there picking some gum off the bottom of his boot. He probably had stepped in it at the zoo, when he had picked up the wriggling sack of wild animal. It had been the same wild animal that sat in the corner of his apartment, chained to the wall and whimpering. If that kid looked up at him, with those big doe eyes again, he was going to slap him across the face. He couldn't take it anymore. His boss, Mr. Mal, was used to this sort of thing, but he was only twenty-four and had just started in this business-- and what a business! He had already been shot, with a tranquilizer dart, and on his first night, too! "Shut up kid."

"My mommy will save me. She's a strong lady and she'll hurt you." There was little pride in that squeaky voice the kid offered up, but it was filled with certainty.

"I wouldn't count on it, kid." He muttered, as he pried the gum loose and grimaced.

"I've seen her crack noses." Andy sat there squeezing his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth. "Mr. Bad?" Andy had started calling his captor Mr. Bad, when he was given no name to go by.

"What Kid?" Mr. Bad opened the small window and threw the newly unstuck gum, out into the wind.

Andy sighed quietly and shrugged. "Do you mind if I have something to drink? I'll wake up thirsty, if you don't gimme one now."

Mr. Bad sighed and shook his head. He wasn't getting paid enough to baby sit this kid. His sixteen-year-old sister got better deals and she had to give up her weekends to do it. All she really did was watch TV and talk to her boyfriend on the phone for a couple of hours, while the parents took a break from the brats. "Water okay with you?"

Andy sighed and nodded, still staring at the floor. "Water's fine."

Mr. Bad shrugged off his jacket and shoved his sleeves up his forearms, as he walked into the four-by-five kitchen area. He searched the cupboards and pulled out a glass, before shoving it under the faucet and turning on the tap. At least, the water was clean, he thought, ironically. He stared at the particles in the glass that floated around and hoped, for the kid's sake, that they didn't have legs. He turned off the tap and walked back in the living room. The kid was shivering, now. He walked over to him and pushed his leg, with the toe of his Timberlands. "Hey, kid. Your drink." Andy looked up and Mr. Bad jumped back in shock, dropping his glass, as he stumbled over his own feet. "What the hell?"

Andy snarled and jumped forward, pulling on his chains. He snarled and his top lip curled up over his teeth. His eyes had turned bleak and soulless. His teeth were sharpening into some pretty vicious points and he was sprouting hair in places where six year olds shouldn't have to worry about. "Grr..."

"What is going on here?"

Mr. Bad picked himself up off the ground and groaned. "I'll never get used to that!" He glanced over his shoulder and saw the grin that was spreading over his boss' face. "Will I?"

Mr. Mal nodded, cheerfully, and grinned wider. "Wait 'til I let you skin one, my boy." He dropped his coat on the arm of the couch and picked up the dart gun, which lay on the coffee table. He aimed the gun at Andy's chest and pulled the trigger. The dart hit cleanly and, in less than a minute, Andy's hairy little form lay in a heap, on the carpet. "Now, shall we let sleeping dogs lie?"

Mr. Bad frowned and looked at the furry back raise with each breath the animal took. "I don't think you used that certain cliché in context."

Mr. Mal shrugged and dropped the gun back down on the table that he first picked it up from. "I'm rich. What do I care if I use the correct clichés or not? I can pay a man to create me some new clichés, if I like."

Mr. Bad sighed. "If it's a real cliché, it is a term or phrase that is used over and over again, so you would have to have somebody introduce the term and give it a lot of time, before it could be..."

"Will you just shut up?" Mr. Mal collapsed on the couch and kicked his feet up on the table, next to his gun. "You are really grating my nerves, boy."

Mr. Bad huffed, as he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. "Did you give the money, to the woman?"

Mal quirked an eyebrow and shook his head, while running a hand through his disheveled chin length hair. "You are a pretty stupid boy. You know that?" Mal continued, not really expect an answer from his young counterpart. "How can I give the lady her share of the money, if I haven't received any money yet?" mal grinned at the boy, who was now starring out the window, longingly. "You want to go get some fresh air or something? The kid ain't going anywhere, unless we move him." Mall flicked his hand up at the wall clock and grinned. "We have two hours, yet."

Mr. Bad or 'Boy', as Mal so lovingly called him, just shrugged. "I could use air, I guess." He walked over to where he had discarded his coat and picked it up, off the floor. He shrugged it on and walked toward the door. "I have my phone, if you need me."

Mal nodded and picked up the remote control, from in between the couch cushions. He flipped the television on and settled back in his seat. "Sure thing, my boy. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

The boy stopped, before stepping out in the hallway, and turned back toward his boss. "Is there anything you wouldn't do?"

Mal stopped watching the TV, for a second, and looked at the man, in the doorway. "I wouldn't kill a kitty." Mal chewed on his lower lip, lightly, and nodded, before turning back to the infomercial, he had started watching.

The boy nodded and sighed. He made his way out into the hallway and shut the door behind him. "Nice to know." He muttered, as he stuck his hands deep into his pockets and headed down the hallway, toward the fire exit.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Spike was bored. He sat down on the ground, slumped up against the door of the office, banging his head against the wood. "Are you done, yet?" He whined to his Sire, who was pacing back and forth, cursing in Gaelic.

Angel stopped in his tracks and stomped over toward Spike. He stood there starring down at his childe, until blue eyes met brown. "You know what? You're an ass!" The words sounded funny coming out of Angel's mouth, instead of Spike's, but the sincerity in the statement was definitely there. Angel stomped away from the slumping form of his childe and growled, under his breath. He really was feeling... angry? No. He was incensed... irate, even.

"Would you try and calm down. Maybe you should try some breathing exercises or something." Spike stared p at the ceiling and groaned, quietly. Angel was being really pissy.

Angel stopped his pacing and his stomping, and took a few steps toward Spike. He leaned down and looked his childe in the face, which forced Spike to meet his eyes, once more. "I. Don't. Breathe." Angel pulled back his hand and brought it down, flicking Spike's ear.

Spike flinched back and rubbed the lobe. "What'd you do that for?"

Angel leaned back up and shrugged. "You were being an idiot. It felt like the right thing to do, at the time."

Spike scoffed and pushed himself up, off the floor. "Well, ta!" Spike turned and tried opening the office door, but it was just shut again, by the hulking mass of Angel that slammed into it. "Let me out." He gave his Sire a look of annoyance and received a smack upside the head. Spike took a step back and growled. "Hit me again and I'll be forced to hurt you."

Angel grinned. "Good. That's what I want to hear." Angel took a step toward his childe and shifted into game face. "Get mad, Spike. Throw things. Stomp around the place, like you own it. Turn your stupid music up, until the windows shake and the neighbors complain." Angel stalked toward his childe with every suggestion.

Spike retreated with every advance. He wasn't sure what Angel's plan was, but he knew it probably was something bad. He had that look in his eyes. Spike hated that look more now, than he had loved it as a fledgling.

Angel took one last step and halted, in his footsteps. "I want you to hit back, Spike. I want you to do anything you please. Just stop being such a..." Angel searched his massive vocabulary, for the right word. "...bitch."

Spike launched himself at his Sire and, before he could think about it, he had the larger vampire's shoulders pinned to the hardwood floor.

"That's my boy!" Angel shoved Spike up, off of him, and jumped to his feet. He stood still for a second, starring at his childe, and then shook off his game face. "You didn't even shift faces." He said it with a frown.

Spike shrugged. He was still seated on the floor. "It's not like it's a reflex, Angelus."

"It should be." Angel insisted, as he offered Spike a hand. He pulled the blonde man to his feet and shrugged helplessly. "I don't mean to sound childish, but I don't think it's fair."

Spike brushed off the seat of his pants and heaved a sigh of frustration. "What's not fair?"

"You... taking my shan-shu."

Spike's head snapped up and he gave his Sire a look that could break glass. "Where in the bleedin' hell did you get an idea like that?"

Angel shrugged and scratched the back of his skull, nervously. He cough and muttered something that sounded like 'Lihn he' and an idea came to Spike.

"The boy's got you all worked up. Don't he?" Angel just shrugged, which made Spike smile. "Is that why you almost scared the piss, straight out of him?" Angel shrugged again and Spike sighed. "You don't have to worry, Angelus. I'm not stealing your shan-thingie."

"Shan-shu..." Angel almost looked as if he was pouting. "I guess you would deserve it..." He muttered, thoughtfully.



"And where did you get that idea from? So, I went looking for my soul and I helped stop the world from ending a couple of times..." Spike stopped his train of thought and grunted. "Bloody soddin' wanker!" Spike nodded and sighed, before shifting straight into game face, with little to no difficulty. "See there? I'm still the big bad, no matter what you poufs say."

Angel looked up at his childe and chuckled. "So, about this dream?"

Spike, inadvertently, shivered and shifted back to his human façade. "No, Angelus. I can't."

A knock on the door brought the conversation to a close, for the moment. "Come in."

Cordelia walked in and was immediately taken back by the tension between Spike and Angel. "Whoa! I'm not Lorne, guys, but I can feel the tenseness rolling off of you two, in waves. Where is Lorne, by the way?"

"He's been scouting out new places to have a club." Angel stated, without much thought.

"Is he?" Spike huffed. "Since when?"

Angel shrugged. "Since a couple of days ago. He said he was tired of leaching off of my hospitality."

"Smart man." Spike grunted and pushed his way past Cordelia and through the door.

Cordelia scowled after the blonde man and looked up at Angel. "What's wrong with him?"

Angel shook his head. "He's having dreams."

Cordelia grunted and crossed her arms across her chest. "What kind of dreams? Darla? Penn? Drusilla?"

"Angelus."

Cordelia opened her mouth and then, automatically, shut it. She didn't trust herself, when it came to conversations that dealt with Angelus. Angel didn't seem like he was going to proceed, so she decided to change her mind. "And?"

Angel shrugged. "He won't tell me."

"Well, make him tell you!" Cordelia was two steps away from stomping her foot and pushing Angel out the door, after Spike. "We need to know what's going on!"

Angel narrowed his eyes at Cordelia and nodded. "That's what he said."

"What?" Cordelia sighed.

Angel chewed on his bottom lip and made his way out the door, after his childe.

Cordelia gave in to her first notion and stomped her foot. "Ugh... You guys!" Cordelia grabbed her forehead and took a deep breath. Angel had better take care of this, she thought, sullenly.

Angel looked around the lobby and, then up the stairs. "Spike?"

Connor walked out of the kitchen and smiled at his dad. "He went upstairs. He said that he was going to go round up the troops and get his gear." Connor was carrying Skittles up on his shoulder and feeding it little bites from, what seemed to be, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "He still having those dreams?"

Angel looked his son over and quirked an eyebrow. "What dreams? He's told you about his dreams?"

Connor nodded, as he fed Skittles another small bite of sandwich. "Yes, you just never asked. I figured you didn't care."

"Why wouldn't I care?" Angel felt like he was the only sane one left, in the Hyperion.

Connor shrugged and pulled Skittles off of his shoulder, cradling him in his arms. He wriggled his finger in Skittles face and it batted at his hand. "Because the dreams were so impossible. He's worrying for nothing."

"Worrying about what?" Angel took a couple of steps toward Connor and waited, patiently.

Connor looked up into his dad's eyes and frowned. "You aren't worried about it, are you? It's not possible for you to turn back, is it?"

Angel shook his head. "I don't think so. What was the dream about?"

Connor put Skittles down on the ground and let him gallop around the floor, for a while. Apparently, it wanted to chase a fly that had gotten in, when the windows exploded. "He said that it starts off with you and him talking about something. Then, you..." Connor waved his hand in front of his face and bared his blunt human teeth. "...you know."

Angel nodded and waited for Connor to go on.

Connor sighed and watched Skittles jump up in the air, trapping the fly between his paws. "Apparently you jump behind him and grab some man. Then, you tear out his throat. After that you drop him to the ground and lunge at Spike. Spike said he usually wakes up, around that time."

"I lunge at Spike?" Connor nodded and Angel thought, for a moment. "Does Spike think this dream is prophetic?"

Connor nodded and pounced at his kitten, before it could start biting on a stray piece of glass that hadn't been picked up. "Bad kitty. You could have hurt yourself."

A thought came to Angel and he grinned. "Of course." Angel sighed and looked back up the stairs. "I'm going to go get Spike and Lindsey. We have to have a quick conference before we go out and save this kid. Will you stay here and hold down the fort?"

Connor nodded, as he held the kitten to his chest and thumped its nose, for biting him.

"Why don't you call Fred, Gunn, and Wesley? Tell them what's going on. Gunn and Wesley may want to get in on the action and Fred would probably appreciate an update." Angel threw his son one last glance and headed up the stairs.

TBC

-So, I've been on a forced vacation. I am feeling much better and I have lots of story left in me... Please, don't hold this short sabbatical, against me.-

--The subtitle was called Cat Scratch Fever, which is a song by Ted Nugent and a disease... I prefer the song to the disease.--