Finding Miss Kitty Fantastico by Chris Cook

Rating: G
Uber Setting: Contemporary
Disclaimer: Based on characters from Buffy The Vampire Slayer created by Joss Whedon, and inspired by Finding Nemo by Pixar Studios. All original material is copyright 2004 Chris Cook.
Distribution: Through the Looking Glass http://alia.customer.netspace.net.au/glass.htm
The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: Hell yeah!
Author's Note: Dedicated to Alexander the Great, the best cat ever.
Pairing: Willow/Tara

Summary: Once upon a time there was a cat named Tara...

It is 5:42pm on a Friday night, and Rupert Giles has just arrived home, at number 14 Cedar Drive. He leaves his car parked in the driveway rather than the garage, because it's the kind of neighborhood where it's safe to do that, and instead of going straight to the front door, pauses to reach into the passenger side and pick up a large box from the seat, which he holds carefully upright. Fumbling for his keys in his pocket with his free hand, he walks up the paved path towards the door, carefully avoiding treading on the lawn, despite the path having been overtaken somewhat by adventurous plants from the garden.

Inside the house, in the lounge room looking over acquisitions proposals from the museum she works at, is Joyce Summers. She doesn't particularly care whether Giles walks on the lawn or not, but as she glances out of the window and notices him conscientiously avoiding it, she chuckles to herself. Now and then she teases him good-naturedly about this, and other symptoms of what she calls his 'Britishness'. She, of course, is American, and this is one of the reasons their marriage is unlikely to ever become boring.

Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms, a fourteen-year-old girl is listening to a CD of medieval choirs, and deftly guiding Lara Croft through yet another labyrinthine tomb on her Playstation. Her name is Dawn, and her room is eclectic to say the least. One might wonder if she inherited half of her tastes from each parent, and this would be as good an explanation as any for the violin by her desk with a plastic lightsaber propped against it; the complete works of Shakespeare shelved next to her comic collection; or the bedspread with its cute little pink flower pattern, on top of which are strewn pajamas with a chakram motif that indicate the wearer dreams of beheading warlords.

Dawn insists that all this is evidence that she's an astoundingly interesting person. Her half-sister prefers 'insane', but they do love each other. They're just that kind of sisters.

She's in the next room over, and the difference is apparent just from looking around. The seventeen-year-old's walls are covered with posters of various young men in various tight jeans and open shirts, her CD collection is aggressively Top 20, and there's something about her that suggests 'cheerleader', even when the uniform and pom-poms are in the closet as they are now. Her name is Elizabeth, though – for reasons which will never become clear – she goes by Buffy. Giles loves her like his own daughter, though he is in fact her stepfather, but swears that he'll give up tea before he'll call her 'Buffy'. She in turn takes after her mother in teasing him about his Britishness. Again, they do love each other, they're just that kind of father and daughter.

Buffy is on the phone at the moment, which is not uncommon. If it weren't for the fact that her room has a separate line, no one else in the house would ever get a call. On the other end of the line is her best friend Anya. They're discussing the relative merits of David and James, and it isn't a discussion that's going to wrap up anytime soon.

On the bed behind her – bedspread stylishly scarlet with Japanese characters printed on it – is a cat, which opens an eye as Buffy disagrees loudly with Anya, then closes it again and returns to being serenely curled up with her tail over her face.

"I'll call you back," Buffy's voice came from her room. The door opened and she leaned over the rail at the top of the staircase. "Did you get it? Can I see?"

"Back off!" Dawn insisted, ducking past her and taking the stairs two at a time.

"Hi Dad," she said as she reached the floor, "did you-" Giles nodded and glanced down at the box, which he had set down while he closed the door.

"The vet said everything is in perfect order," he said to Joyce as she appeared from the lounge room and gave him a quick kiss. Dawn rushed over and knelt next to the box, while Buffy followed in her wake.

Tara, wondering what all the excitement was about, slunk down the stairs in that slightly-accelerated way cats have of negotiating staircases from the top down. Buffy noticed her, and knelt down to stroke her fur as she wandered over to stand by her legs.

"Cool," Tara purred. Buffy, hearing only the purr, nevertheless smiled, then turned her attention to her sister, who had opened the box and reached inside.

"She's so cute," she whispered, lifting a black and white kitten out and cradling her like a baby. The kitten blinked in the light, then began to purr as Dawn tickled her tummy.

"Miss Kitty Fantastico," Dawn answered promptly. She put the kitten down and lay down on the floor with her, giggling as the newly-dubbed Miss Kitty sniffed at her nose and then became interested in her own tail.

"Fantastico," Dawn corrected. Giles sighed theatrically, then shrugged and nodded. Dawn stuck out her tongue at Buffy, and turned her attention back to her kitten, who was now on her back trying to reach her forepaws between her back legs and corner her tail that way.

"This comes from your side of the family," Giles murmured to Joyce. She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful swat on the shoulder. Ignoring this display of parental affection, Buffy lifted Tara up and placed her closer to Miss Kitty, kneeling beside her.

"I can't think why they wouldn't," Buffy said mock-seriously, "after all, we get along so wonderfully."

"It's okay Miss Kitty," Dawn said soothingly, "Tara hasn't picked up any of Buffy's many, many irritating qualities."

As the sisters traded good-natured barbs, Tara approached the kitten, who was rolling around on her back. She had managed to snare the tip of her tail between her two front paws, but seemed unable to figure out what came next.

"Um, hi," Tara said. Miss Kitty exploded into a microsecond-long burst of motion that ended with her lying on her belly, all four paws latched firmly into the carpet.

"Um..." Miss Kitty glanced at Dawn, then back at Tara. "Miss Kitty…Fantastico?" she said proudly, if slightly unsurely.

"Hello Miss Kitty Fantastico," Tara said, smiling comfortingly as she came a step closer. "Would you like to be friends?"

"Um…'kay," Miss Kitty decided. "I gotta big name," she declared with a puzzled frown.

"Um…'kay," Miss Kitty nodded again. She got to her paws and craned her neck forward, touching her nose to Tara's.

"You're nice," she giggled. She glanced back at Dawn, who was herself giggling at the pair of them. "'at's my person?" she asked.

"Daaawn," Miss Kitty repeated, testing the name. "Oh…is Dawn your person too?"

"No, the other one's my person," Tara said, "she's Buffy. She's Dawn's big sister."

"Oh…does 'at mean…you're…my big sister?" Miss Kitty asked after a moment's thought.

"I guess it does," Tara smiled, sitting down. Miss Kitty considered this, then came closer and settled down next to Tara, rubbing her cheek against her and purring loudly. Tara grinned and began to purr herself.

Tara opened an eye and looked across the front garden from where she was lying, stretched out on one of the large, flat stones placed artistically among the flowerbeds.

"Fell inna water," Miss Kitty's kittenish voice emerged bashfully from the stand of bushes between Tara's position and the little pond in the corner of the garden. Miss Kitty herself emerged a moment later, soaking wet and embarrassed, and trudged over the path leaving little wet feline footprints on the paving stones.

"Play in the sun for a while," Tara said, closing her open eye again, "you'll dry off…and try not to keep diving into the pond."

"'Kay," Miss Kitty said brightly, perking up and darting into the flowerbeds in the sunny half of the garden, out of the house's shade. Tara opened both eyes and gazed casually at the dense foliage when she heard a rustling, scrabbling sound, and noticed one of the bushes shuddering. Miss Kitty's ears appeared briefly through the leaves at the top, then vanished, replaced by her tail, which was straight up, poised for action.

"Miss Kitty Fantastico Banzai!!!" The tail vanished, and a second later there was a leafy thud from within the greenery.

"'m in-corra-jabble," Miss Kitty murmured to herself with some satisfaction. A moment later the top of one of the other bushes started to sway as she climbed it.

One day, several weeks after Miss Kitty Fantastico joined the household, Tara's usual morning nap in the front garden was interrupted as her feline senses alerted her to stealthy motion nearby. Joyce and Giles were at work, Buffy and Dawn at school – not that a clumsy human could sneak properly anyway – which left only...

She opened her eyes a fraction, so that she would still seem asleep, but could just see through the slit between her eyelids. A shape was slowly moving beneath a pile of garden cuttings, left over from the weekend. As Tara watched, the shape cautiously burrowed its way towards her, keeping itself unobtrusively beneath the cover of the leaves at all times.

"I can see you Miss Kitty," Tara said, chuckling to herself. She sat up and tilted her head to one side, aiming her ears directly at the moving pile of leaves, just to make a point.

A leaf lifted out of the pile, balanced atop Miss Kitty's head. She gave Tara a beaming smile.

"Sneakin'," Miss Kitty proudly replied. "Gonna explore." Tara nodded – Miss Kitty's journeys of discovery tended to extend little further than the boundaries of the house and its garden. Seeing as the kitten's imagination seemed to be limitless, this was quite sufficient to keep her occupied for hours on end.

It was not long afterwards that Tara's ears perked up to the sound of a small van pulling up outside. She recognized the aggressive purr of the motor and dismissed it – it came and went every morning her people went to work, and when they got home the truck had left bits of paper in the mailbox for them to read.

Tara sat up and craned her neck to peer over the garden wall. There was the van, just as she remembered it, bright red with a white stripe. The person who belonged to it, in his usual blue coat, was just returning to it from his visit to the mailbox. Tara had used to sit up and watch the procedure every morning, when she was new to the house and learning its ways, but eventually she had gotten used to it, and the mailbox person never seemed to pay any attention to her anyway.

What was different this time was Miss Kitty, in the back of the van, peering out from among the sacks of paper, looking more than a little nervous.

"Jump down!" Tara meowed at the top of her voice, but even as she saw Miss Kitty's ears fix on her, and the kitten tense to move, the mailbox person swung the van's door shut, never even noticing the inadvertently stowaway kitten.

"Tara!" Miss Kitty's voice came through the door in the wake of its resounding clang. "Tara?"

"Hang on Miss Kitty!" Tara called to her, jumping the wall and landing easily on the pavement beyond.

"Tara, help!" Miss Kitty's voice was almost drowned out as the van's motor purred louder, and it jerked away from the curb and began to pick up speed. Tara didn't hesitate, but ran along the pavement after it.

"I'm coming Miss Kitty!" she meowed. But it was no use – the van sped up faster and faster, and there was nothing Tara could do to keep it from outpacing her. She flattened her ears back against her head and ran after it, keeping going even after it had disappeared from sight.

"I'll save you Miss Kitty," she promised, sprinting along the unfamiliar pavement as the territory she knew was left far behind, "somehow..."

Tara walked slowly along the street, tail slumped in defeat. The sun was at its highest in the sky – normally around the time she'd wander indoors for a snack from her biscuit bowl – and she hadn't seen the van since it left her house. Her own street had eventually joined another, also full of houses, and that led to another, and another, until now Tara's surroundings weren't even remotely familiar. She knew she could find her way back home, but returning without Miss Kitty was a situation she refused to consider. Her other options, though, remained depressing.

She jogged from one lamppost to the next, staying out of the way of the people wandering about. Tara had concluded they were 'shopping' – her people went shopping every weekend, usually Giles and Joyce, and returned with bags full of cat food and people food. Buffy and Dawn also went shopping, though at less regular intervals, and they tended to return with bags full of new coats, of various styles and patterns. It seemed a needlessly complicated way to get around the fact that people weren't born with decent coats of fur of their own, but then, Tara found many things her people did needlessly complicated, though often adorable.

The people along the street here were apparently of both kinds – some carried bags full of food, others were acquiring types of coats, others still carrying bags and boxes of strange things Tara could only guess at. There didn't seem to be any provision for cats, unfortunately. Tara sat for a moment outside one of the boxy, brightly-colored houses the people were shopping at, watching them exchange bits of paper for a multitude of varieties of fish, but the person providing the fish didn't seem interested in anyone not offering the bits of paper, so Tara reluctantly moved on. She had a vague suspicion that people weren't the sole source of food a cat might have, but couldn't for the life of her imagine how else it could be obtained, and for the first time it occurred to her that there was a lot she didn't know about the world.

Up ahead was another street, busy with cars. A patch of red on one of the shopping houses opposite caught Tara's eye, and she hurried to the edge of the street, staring across it in the gaps between passing cars. It was a shopping house much like the others – big windows, garish signs and not a lot in the way of homey touches like carpets and plants. But it was one of the signs that caught Tara's attention – a red circle filled with white, and a red stripe running through it. She frowned, second-guessing herself, but concluded that it was indeed the same kind of pattern that the mail van had.

Not fancying braving the cars on her own, Tara glanced to one side to see how the people were negotiating the street. A group were waiting at the side of the pavement, and Tara wondered if the idea was just to wait until the cars went away – not a good idea, in her opinion, as this street was quite unlike her own calm territory, and barely a moment went by when cars weren't zooming back and forth like hyperactive kittens. Tara stifled a sigh at the thought of kittens, but was surprised out of her melancholy thoughts when a little box fixed to the nearest lamp-post began emitting a sound like the dinner-making thing in Joyce's kitchen, the cars stopped, and the waiting people marched safely across the street.

Tara was so surprised by the sudden reversal of behaviors that she sat dumbfounded until the beeping stopped, and the cars again took charge, moving back and forth as if people no longer concerned them. Edging closer to where a few people were again forming a group to wait at the curb, Tara hazarded a guess that the noisy thing was telling the people when they were allowed to ignore the cars. She wondered idly how the noisy thing knew, then shelved the thought as the beeping started again, and the people moved. Keeping up with them, Tara crossed the street without any of the cars challenging her, and sat on the opposite pavement studying the mail shop.

It was quite small, and seemed to consist solely of one room, in which a handful of people behind a long desk talked to other people who came and went, fiddling with various bits of paper as they went. 'What is it with paper?' Tara wondered, then mentally shrugged and sidled up close to the glass wall separating the room from the street, searching within for any sign of Miss Kitty.

There didn't seem to be any, and she frowned in confusion. She glanced up at the sign again, wondering if she'd been mistaken, but no, it was definitely the same pattern the van had had. She wondered if there was more to the mail shop hidden away somewhere, and spotted a narrow alleyway to her left, on the other side of yet another shop. For want of anything better to do she walked towards it and peered in.

It was oddly quiet inside, after the bustle of the street – the people didn't seem to need anything from the alley, so it remained deserted. It was, however, home to many boxes and bins, several of which smelled rather bad. The was a vague food-ish edge to the smell, but Tara knew without a doubt that she'd turn up her nose at any food that had such an unpleasant odor attached to it. At home, one of the things that Buffy did was to gather up various small bags of leftover food and discarded bits and pieces, and remove them from the house before they started to smell. Tara wondered if these places had people who were less conscientious about cleaning up after themselves – or, given how Buffy often complained, perhaps these people merely had parents less insistent than Joyce and Giles.

There was, however, a street at the other end, and in the narrow opening of the alley Tara could see a door something like the garage door at home. That made sense – Giles and Joyce's cars needed the garage, a room of their own, so perhaps all cars did – vans too. Maybe the mail van had retreated to its garage, somewhere down there-

Tara nearly jumped out of her fur at hearing the unfamiliar voice, and as she spun around searching for its source she felt her tail fluff up in a way it hadn't done for years, since she was herself a kitten, and practically everything was startling the first time it happened. Scanning the alley and finding it still empty, she eventually looked up. A green-eyed ginger cat was sitting on a ledge high on one wall, looking down at her, with a grin quirking her whiskers up on one side.

"Wh-who're y-you?" Tara managed, standing her ground even though what she really wanted to do was turn and run back out of the alley. 'Miss Kitty could be on the other side,' she told herself, 'I can't just run away and leave her.'

"Me?" the ginger cat said. "I'm Willow." She leaned forward and seemed to slink vertically down the wall onto the top of a bin, barely pausing to jump down to the ground. Tara could have managed such a feat of athleticism on her favorite tree, but she'd never have dared try it on an unfamiliar surface. 'Is this her place?' she wondered. 'Am I trespassing in her place?' She lowered her tail slightly, to seem less challenging.

"Let me guess," Willow said, sitting back down and licking a forepaw, idly cleaning her face with it, "you're all alone out here, and you've got no idea where is where and who is who. Am I right?"

"I-I...yes," Tara said hesitantly, "i-is this place yours? I-I just need to get to the street over there, that's all..."

"Hey, relax," Willow said, "you're fine. It's not exactly my place...let's say it's a place I know. I know lots of places, but I'd have a busy time if I went and decided they were all mine. You're not going to panic and run off, are you?"

"Good," Willow smiled, "it's been a slow day and I wouldn't mind some company. All the other cats around here and just scavengers, no fun to be around at all."

"You are new, aren't you? Here, c'mere, say hello." Willow got up and walked slowly towards Tara, ducking her head low to show she wasn't being aggressive. Tara took a tentative step forward, and sniffed near Willow's nose.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Willow said, while Tara quickly took a step back again and sat back down. "Relax, willya? Trust me, you don't need that tail with me." Tara glanced down self-consciously at her tail, still twice its usual size.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Willow shrugged amiably. "I'm Willow. Oh wait, I said that already, didn't I? Well, I was Willow then, and I still am now."

"Well you're not from around here," Willow pointed out, "I'd have seen you before, and you've got house cat written all over you."

"I'm looking for my sister," Tara explained, "she's lost and I have to find her. But, I don't know this place at all, I've really got no idea where she is..."

"No kidding?" Willow said, widening her eyes. "Then it's your lucky day, Tara. You come along with me, I know this town like the back of my paw."

"A letter van," Willow said, when Tara had explained what happened to Miss Kitty. "Those bits of paper people send to each other, they call them letters, it's a way they have of talking without actually seeing each other. Beats me why they can't be bothered to meet face to face and sniff like civilized creatures...Anyway," she hastily added, seeing Tara's worried expression, "they don't go to the back of this place, nothing goes in or out of here except those little car things, definitely no vans. But, fear not, I know where they do go."

"Hey," Willow smiled, twitching her whiskers mischievously, "did I say I knew this town or didn't I? Come on, I'll show you. How are you at roofs?"

"Um, o-okay, I guess," Tara said hesitantly, swishing her tail in what she hoped was a casual manner. "Not that I go up onto the roof much...I climb my tree a lot, I'm good at that."

"You don't get out much, do you?" Willow said lightly. "Doesn't matter, come on, just follow me and you'll be fine. Once you're up there it's easy, there's like two dozen roofs here all in a row, you can just walk from one to the other without even going down to the ground. Okay, like this – bin," she turned and sprang, reaching the lid of the nearest bin easily, "wall," without pause she continued her ascent, pushing off the bin the moment she was atop it, "ledge." Her front paws reached the high ledge she had been sitting on a moment ago, and she pulled herself up easily. "Okay? Your turn."

Steeling herself, Tara sized up the series of jumps. 'It's easy,' she told herself, 'neither of those are higher than the jump up from the ground to the first branch of my tree, easier in fact, these have flat tops...this is easy. Just like my tree. Only everything smells different, and I've never been here before, and don't know what's going to happen...'

"Anytime," Willow offered casually, delicately washing a paw as she waited. Tara flattened her ears back at the jibe, and crouched, ready for a burst of speed.

'Hey, now,' she thought, 'I may not be Miss Know-Everything Street Cat and I may not be on my territory, but I'm not some helpless newborn, and I'm not' she leapt forward, 'going to look like one,' onto the bin, up the wall, 'in front of you, sweetie.' She reached the ledge, and sat on her haunches casually, giving Willow a level stare. Willow was regarding her with an odd expression.

"What?" Tara demanded, confidence putting some fire in her meow, for all that she was deliberately avoiding looking back down the wall at the jump she had made, "you never saw a house cat jump before?" Willow blinked in surprise, then ducked her head in a conciliatory gesture.

"You move prettily," she said, with a bashful little flick of her tail. "This way." She got up and trotted along the ledge, leaving Tara to follow, confused but pleased with herself.

"So you're a smart cat," Willow said as they walked from rooftop to rooftop, "you figured out how to cross roads like the people do, I was watching you before, and you've got plenty of courage coming out of your territory to find your Miss Kitty...how come you're with your people in the first place?"

"What do you mean?" Tara asked, ignoring her tail, which perked up of its own accord. She liked it when this odd, feisty cat complimented her.

"Why do you stay? Is it just until Miss Kitty's big enough to leave with you, or what?"

"Leave?" Tara frowned. "You mean leave home? Of course not, I love my people, why would I want to leave?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Willow countered. "Be your own mistress, live your own life...you don't like being a pet, do you?"

"People keep pets like toys, something cute they can play with now and then...I just thought you'd want more than that."

"It's not like that at all," Tara protested, "I don't let my people keep me – they don't lock me in or anything – I stay because I want to. They're my family."

"Family?" Willow echoed. "You know, I wouldn't have thought I'd hear something like that from a smart cat like you."

"Well, it's kind of kittenish thinking, isn't it?" Willow said airily. "Not that there's anything wrong with kittens, but you know how they are, latch on to anything and think it's their family, even if it's a person. Don't get me wrong, I think Miss Kitty's lucky to have you – I bet she looks up to you like you're her mother, doesn't she?"

"Kind of," Tara admitted, with a little pride, "I'm her 'big sister'...not by birth, but, well, you know..."

"Yeah," Willow nodded. "But kittens grow out of it – learn to take care of themselves, stop needing people. I mean, house cats get used to having their meals handed to them and put up with people, but you don't strike me as that type, you're too good for that. Smart, I mean," she corrected herself, with a suspiciously bashful swing of her tail, "self-reliant if you wanted to be, you know..."

"I don't 'put up' with my people," Tara said firmly, "and I'm not just some kind of toy to them. They love me...and, I love them. It doesn't matter that I'm a cat and they're people, they're my family, and that's that." She gave Willow a challenging look, daring her to argue further.

"Okay," the ginger cat said after a pause, "sorry, it's not my business...this way."

Tara followed, wondering at her. She wished she knew what was going on between those perky ears.

"There it is," Willow said, motioning Tara to the edge of the roof, "that's where the letter vans come from."

They had crossed nearly a dozen streets' worth of roofs, descending into laneways to get from one block of buildings to another. Willow had known every ledge, every roof – Tara had been worried, after their disagreement, that Willow would lose interest in helping her along the way, but she seemed resolute. Now Tara joined her at the edge of their current roof, and looked down.

Across a broad street was a huge building, big enough to swallow up Tara's home without even noticing. It was tall, three stories, with square edges and a flat roof, a huge gray box with glittering flat windows in rows along its front. Down at the street level there was a section with a glass front, like the shops, and Tara spotted a sign bearing the letter van's pattern, and peering, saw it repeated several times, smaller, on various other parts of the building. No other buildings stood close to it on either side, and behind it was a broad river. A rumbling noise caught her attention, and she directed her gaze to one side, where a ramp led down underground.

"Wait!" Willow warned her. "Hang on, are you sure? I know that one's purr, that's the one that goes along the streets sunward of here. That's not where you came from, it can't be the same one."

"There's more than one?" Tara asked, staring down at the van as it began to descend the ramp.

"I know for a fact there's at least ten," Willow said, "maybe more. This is on the edge of the territory I know, I haven't been in there for...oh, must be a year at least. Last time, they had a bunch of vans just sitting inside doing nothing, as well as the ones I recognized."

Tara stared, caught between Willow's advice, and her own instinct to race down, somehow cross the street, and reach the van before it vanished. Her heart leapt in her throat as she saw the wall at the end of the ramp raise, revealing a gray cavern beyond, under the building, but then, when the van turned to enter it, she saw that its person wasn't the one she knew – this one was a female.

"It's not the one," she agreed, her tail slumping, "you're right...it even sounds different, a bit...I guess I was too excited to notice. I'm sorry."

"Hey," Willow offered, sidling up to her, "no problem, I can understand you wanting your little sister back." She bent and touched her forehead to Tara's neck reassuringly, surprising her.

"O-okay," Tara said, not sure how to take Willow's affection, after thinking she was probably mad at her after their disagreement. "So, what do we do? The other vans come here too?"

"They do," Willow nodded, "the one that prowls your street is probably already in there. Now, I know a couple of ways in, but we'll have to be careful! There's lots of people in there during the day, and they don't want cats just wandering through their place. But I can get us in, then we find where they leave the vans, and find Miss Kitty."

"We'll find her," Willow promised, "this is the keenest nose that ever graced a cat, it's never failed me. We'll get down there, I'll take a sniff to get my bearings," she lifted her nose in the air and inhaled theatrically, "and..." A puzzled expression crossed her features, and she paused.

Willow glared around, sniffing the air, and her gaze settled balefully on a pile of discarded wooden planks stacked in one corner of the roof.

A nervous-looking rat peeked up from behind a plank, and gingerly edged its way towards Willow.

"Um, hi," the rat said tentatively. Tara blinked at the rat, then looked to Willow, confused.

"Me? Nonono, that's not it," Amy the rat protested quickly, "not following you Will, honest!"

"Oh, okay," Willow said, stalking closer to Amy, "so you just happened to be here, hiding, watching a rooftop when we came along?"

"Yeah! No," the rat admitted, "but Will, I saw you heading this way – just coincidence, me in the area, nothing more – and I was worried, that's all! Worried about you, and I thought I'd keep an eye on you, make sure you're okay, right? Friendly, see?"

"Let's not go that far," Willow replied sidelong. "We've known each other since I was a kitten and she was a ratling, so for old times' sake I restrain myself from eating you," she finished, glaring pointedly at Amy.

"Haha, nice one Will," Amy laughed nervously, glancing at Tara, "she's a joker she is, yeahyeah, no, she wouldn't eat me, I'm a friend from way back- "

"Who's been told not to hang around me when I'm on the prowl," Willow pointed out, "there's plenty of other cats in this town who don't have my enlightened views about not eating anything that talks, and I don't need the headaches of fishing your sorry tail out of trouble. Remember what happened with the Siamese?"

"Oh, Will was brilliant," Amy offered quickly, "there I was, big Siamese about to pounce, and she jumped down between us and stared him down while I reached a more advantageous position-"

"Ran for it," Willow translated, turning to Tara, "she's annoying, but I'm used to her being around. But," she added darkly, fixing her attention back on Amy, "what's this about keeping an eye on me? Since when do I need a rat watching my back? I'm not some helpless house cat." She'd said it before she realized, and offered an apologetic look to Tara.

"Yeahyeahyeah," Amy nodded vigorously, "you're tougher than any cat I've seen, I know Will, I know, but...well, I saw you headed this way, towards the big letter house, and...and that's not safe."

"Um," Amy hesitated, giving a nervous grimace, "thing is...I haven't seen him, but this is what they say...they say, that's where Spike's gang is."

"Big rat," Amy explained, "very big, all the rats are afraid of him, very strong gang. They say – this is just what I've heard – they say, they're not afraid of cats."

"Th-they say," she replied, "Spike's gang, they can take a cat on...and win. They say Spike's a cat-killer."

"Not for long," Tara declared, turning and sprinting towards the edge of the roof facing the mail building, descending out of sight as she made the jump down to an awning below.

"Right Will," Amy nodded fervently, "whatever you say, where're we go- Will!" she called out, as Willow followed Tara.

"Yeah right, but...ugh!" Amy twitched her tail in dismay, and scuttled after Willow.

Willow quickly followed Tara down to the street, via the building's awning and a convenient drain pipe that proved sturdy enough to scramble down. She worried Tara would try to go straight across the road, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the other cat turn and sprint to a crossing, prowling back and forth impatiently while the traffic passed as she waited for them the beeping box on the lamp-post to beep.

"What for?" Tara demanded. "Miss Kitty's in there, and she's in danger! I'm going to help her." Willow was impressed by her determination – Tara was certainly a cat of no little courage, no matter where she came from.

"No argument," she said, "but, wouldn't it be better if we both went to look for her? Safety in numbers, and all?" Tara looked surprised, then twitched her nose nervously.

"You don't have to come," she said hesitantly, "you've shown me how to get here, like you said you would...if there's this dangerous rat in there-"

"Then you'll need an experienced street cat to help you get in and out safely, won't you?" Willow finished, just as the box beeped and the passing cars slowed to a halt. "You coming?"

"Yes," Tara nodded, swishing her tail happily as she followed Willow across the road, "thank you."

"You're welcome from me too," Amy grumbled as she scuttled along in the two cats' wake, glancing nervously at the waiting cars.

"Not down there?" Tara asked, looking towards the ramp the van had vanished down. Willow shook her head and led Tara instead beneath a row of bushes lining a pathway alongside the building.

"Last time I was here," she explained, "the people had these strange things, like boxes with eyes on the front...I know, I know," she shrugged as Tara gave her an incredulous look, "believe me though, if you walk in front of one, the people know you're there. There's a couple down there, and no way to hide from them – I got spotted by one and had to spend half the day hiding under cars when a pair of the building's people came to shoo me out. They didn't get me, though," she added with a touch of pride.

"Away from here, for preference...just a thought," Amy finished meekly, as both Willow and Tara glared back at her.

"There's another way in," Willow explained, "through this big place where all the letters get moved around by big...moving platforms, and hoists and things. People send some big letters to each other, big boxes sometimes. There's a way in through there, down to the place where the vans rest before they go out again."

"No 'boxes with eyes'?" Tara asked, with her ears slanted mischievously forward.

"Hey, no teasing the experienced street cat," Willow shot back, though she did so with a grin. "No, no boxes with eyes...I think they're really to keep other people from getting in, and the way we're going, it's too small for a person anyway, so I guess no-one bothers watching it."

"They probably steal each other's letters," Willow guessed with a noncommittal shrug.

"Yeah, pretty much all the time," Willow said, "it does seem to be a kind of preoccupation they have. Just between you and me, I don't think people have worked out the whole territory thing too well. A lot of them go around behaving like they're in open ground, even when they know they're in someone else's territory."

"Sorry...that's terrible," Tara whispered, "my people...no, I can't imagine them behaving like that. It must just be some people...bad people? Are there bad people?" Willow glanced at her in surprise, then nodded.

"She's smart," Willow snapped, "she's just...she hasn't lived out here like we have, that's all. Quiet now...the coast is clear, follow me."

Willow scuttled stealthily out of the bushes and around a corner, leading Tara beneath a stone step into a narrow opening, with Amy following nervously behind. A few steps inside the shaft there was a steel grille, slightly ajar, which Willow nudged open and slunk underneath, using the end of her tail to hold it up for Tara and Amy. The trio emerged in a corridor inside the building, one side of which was filled with boxes stacked to the ceiling.

"Okay," Willow said, glancing to the right, "that way, we don't go – lots of people that way during the day, that's where they do their business. This way," she turned to the left and began walking, "the letter sorting area – very few people, even in daytime. We can get down to-"

Willow and Tara both crouched defensively, tail to tail, with Amy cringing behind them up against the wall, as half a dozen rats appeared from the gaps between the boxes.

"What have we here?" said a high, squeaky voice from among the boxes. To Willow and Tara's amazement, a small mouse with patchy gray fur walked casually out from his hiding place, quite ignoring the band of fierce, large rats on either side of him.

"I thought all you miserable moggies knew better by now," the mouse said in a voice dripping condescension, "this is Spike's place. Cats don't come into Spike's place. Know why? Because cats that do, don't come out again." The mouse paused, and grinned, showing its small, sharp teeth. "Are you getting a vague glimpse of your immediate future?"

"Dalton?" Amy squeaked. "What on earth are you doing here- never mind," she hastily added, as the rats flexed their paws and glared at her, "not my business, never mind..."

"Well, well, well," the mouse, Dalton, smiled, "look what the cats dragged in. Long time no see, Amy. I thought you were much too craven of a coward to poke your whiskers anywhere near here. I thought you knew what'd happen if I ever got my paws on you."

"You're not in a position to make threats, cat," Dalton sneered, twitching his pink nose disdainfully at Willow. "You ought to remember who you're talking to. This mouse isn't hiding in a skirting board sneaking bits of cheese any more. This mouse is Spike's trusted lieutenant... and that, you miserable feline, rearranges the food chain a bit."

"We'll see," Willow muttered darkly, letting her claws scrape a little on the concrete floor.

"Just because I'm a curious sort," Dalton went on, "before we haul your worthless flea-bitten carcasses in front of Spike, suppose you tell me what idiotic idea in your little kitty brains led you to come onto hostile territory?"

"None of your business, Mickey," Willow interrupted, surreptitiously nudging Tara with a back leg. The mouse gave a humorless smile, showing his tiny fangs again, and looked thoughtfully from Willow to Tara.

"That's a house cat," he said, "her collar's in good condition, and she's been groomed by a human. Unlike you," he looked back at Willow, "with your tatty old collar... how long have you been a stray? Two years, three?" He peered at the tag on the old, faded collar around Willow's neck, then at Tara's newer tag.

"Willow," he declared, "and Tara... what a cute couple." Amy gasped in fright, Willow glared furiously, and Tara stared at the mouse in confusion.

"A housecat named Tara," Dalton went on, as if amusing himself, "yes... it all begins to make sense. You came here looking for someone, didn't you? A stupid, feisty little kitten? She said you'd come. Seemed to be under the impression that you'd perform some daring feat and rescue her... as if a housecat could do anything of the sort."

"What have you done to her?!" Tara demanded, taking a step forward. The rats tensed, baring their fangs, which were quite a bit longer and sharper than Dalton's.

"Oh, she's safe," the mouse said airily, "safer than you, at any rate... Spike won't let anyone take a bite out of his new mascot. You, on the other hand... well, having a kitten around the place has got my comrades here spoiling for a fight, and you three are practically wearing signs saying 'fair game'. In language even a rat can understand," he added with a condescending smile at the rats.

"The first rat that jumps," Willow hissed, baring her fangs, "these teeth will snap him like a twig!" The rats bristled at the threat, but checked momentarily.

"Big words, little kitty," Dalton mocked her in a sing-song squeak, "you're outnumbered ten to three. If you can count your housecat and that miserable little gutter rat in a fight."

"We're not leaving Miss Kitty," Willow hissed back, pre-empting Tara who was about to say likewise.

"She's safe!" Amy hissed. "Spike won't hurt her, she's a mascot! That means he'll keep her!"

"Well, much as I've enjoyed talking to you," Dalton went on, "I think the time has come for you to get the hell beaten out of you."

"I mean it!" Willow snarled. "The first rat that moves! You see these teeth? You think I won't do it?"

"What difference does it make?" Dalton sneered. "While you're biting one rat, the other nine will be biting you. How long do you think you'll last then?"

"Long enough to finish off the rat I bite!" Willow shot back. "Back off," she whispered to Tara and Amy, "slow, back to the outside."

"The first rat dies!" Willow snarled over him. "Which one, huh? You?" she glared at one of the rats at random. "Or you? Or you? Which rat here thinks it's okay to get his spine bitten clean through, so long as some other rats survive? You're all willing to die for the cause, are you?"

"Get them!" Dalton squeaked shrilly, hopping up and down at the rats, who snarled and clawed at the ground, but hesitated at actually making the first move.

"That's right," Willow hissed, "smart rats, you stay right there, and we're leaving now. That means no more cats on your territory, and you can all go on being smart rats. Back off!" she whispered urgently to Tara, who was glaring at the rats and refusing to retreat. Slowly, as if waging an internal struggle, she began to back up with Willow, while Amy cautiously but eagerly sought the shelter of the shaft leading out of the building.

That stung the rats, and several of them tensed to leap. Willow hissed loudly, baring her fangs for all to see.

"Stay down!" she warned. "Stay down and you all live through this... otherwise there'll be at least one of you dead on the floor in the space of a second. One in ten, any of you like those odds enough to die, just to get rid of a cat that's leaving anyway?"

"What's wrong with you?" Dalton squeaked. "It's not like you've never fought a cat before!"

"I don't see you first into the fray, mousey," Willow glared. "Looks to me... back into the shaft, go on..." Amy and Tara backed nervously out of the corridor, with Willow slowly following, keeping her eyes fixed on the rats. "Looks to me like these rats are smarter than to get themselves into a nasty fight just on the say-so of a little squeaky mouse."

"Yeah?!" The mouse jumped as if to attack Willow. He instantly scuttled back, but the sudden jolt had done its work, and the rats instinctively leapt forward, none of them paying any attention to him now that they were in motion.

"Run!" Willow yowled, scuttling backwards as fast as her paws could carry her. He bumped into Tara, holding the grille open for her, and turned to grab her with her front paws and shove her through to safety first, before scurrying through herself. She slammed the grille shut just as the first of the dark, furry shapes thudded against it. She raked her claws across the grille, causing the rats to recoil from it for an instant, then gave it a final tug to wedge it solidly shut and scampered out after Tara and Amy.

In the building's cavernous mail sorting complex, a black rat with a streak of bleached white hair down his back looked down from his perch atop a stack of crates, as Dalton and his rats slunk morosely in from a doorway.

"What's all the noise?" he demanded. "What'd I tell you about making a noise like that? Too much commotion and you'll have people coming down here to see what all the fuss is. That's all we need... got ourselves a nice, cozy set-up here, and you go and ruin it by letting the humans know we're here."

"Sorry boss," Dalton said quickly, "only... well, thing is, there was someone in the corridor, and, you know how it is, got to put on a show of strength and all that."

"Someone?" the rat asked. "A rat from outside? Alright, haul 'em in and let's have a look at what's left of 'em."

"Actually boss," Dalton explained, cringing, "while yes, technically there was a rat... there were a couple of cats as well."

"Ah. I see," the rat nodded. "And no doubt you've got a really good explanation for why you're not hauling this cat's sorry carcass in here as we squeak."

"Don't correct me!" the rat hissed. "I hate that. You may have some smarts between your ears, but that does not mean you can go lording it over everyone else, got it? You just bloody well remember who's he little mouse..." he snarled, snowing his fangs meaningfully, "...and who's Spike."

"Yes boss, sorry boss," Dalton back-pedaled quickly. "I told the rats to get them, boss, only you know how it is, they're not all like you, they hesitated, and the cats got out..."

"Yeah," Spike sighed, "bloody wastes of fur... I'd do in the lot of you if there were any better rats in this sorry town!" he hissed loudly at the various rats milling around the sorting complex. They cringed, and as one did their best to go unnoticed as Spike's gaze swept across the room.

"Miserable bleedin' rodents," he muttered, before looking down at Dalton again. "Who were these cats?"

"Oh, no-one boss, no-one," Dalton assured him, "strays, looking for food, not even worth thinking about, really, nothing to even bother with. Chased them out, they're gone, end of story."

"Oh well," Spike muttered, "probably wouldn't have been much fun to fight anyway. Hey, li'l bit?" he said to the crate's other occupant. "Like to see Uncle Spike fight a cat?"

"Yeah," Spike nodded, "I am that. But you know what, li'l bit? I'm top rat of this town, so I can be as bad as I want, and ain't no-one gonna stop me. Dalton!" he yelled.

"Take us up to the mascot perch." Spike advanced on Miss Kitty and grabbed a hold of her collar, dragging her over to a heavy cargo hook on a chain resting on the corner of the crate.

"Hold on, li'l bit," he advised, "otherwise I'll just hook your collar on this, and you'll choke on your way up." Glaring, Miss Kitty held on tightly to the bulky pulley at the top of the hook.

Dalton, meanwhile, scurried up to a gantry overlooking the sorting complex and hopped up onto the control console, where a large, bored-looking rat was sleeping. He quickly kicked the rat awake, then looked out over the complex. Conveyer belts ran non-stop, moving letters back and forth, larger belts shifted boxes and crates, and metal arms slid in and out, diverting letters and packages into shafts once the writing on them had been read by the glittering red eyes of the machines bolted in place along the belts.

"That one," Dalton ordered, pointing to a button, "press, then turn that knob this way." The rat dutifully obeyed, leaning heavily on the button to push it, then grabbing hold of the knob and hauling it around until Dalton told him to stop.

Spike and Miss Kitty held on as the chain's slack was taken up and the hook rose into the air, swinging slightly from side to side.

"Interesting thing, li'l bit," Spike said, matter-of-factly, "most of us think that people run the world, but you know, they don't. Machines move their letters, tell them when to cross the street, drive them around, decide when to open doors for them, let them buy things... machines run people. It's true. And Dalton there, he's a smart mouse. He can read people's writing, and understand it. That means, I can run the machines. This whole place, every machine in it, I say the word and Dalton'll make it move how I want, where I want, when I want. I own this place. It's like the food chain, see? People, machines... me."

"Th-then," Miss Kitty said in a frightened meow, clinging tightly to the chain and trying not to look down at the dizzying drop beneath her, "h-how come th- the mouse isn't in charge?"

"Ah, good point," Spike nodded, "incisive mind, that's what I like to see in a mascot. Not too incisive, mind you. Now, the reason Dalton doesn't run things, and I do, that's to do with the food chain too, in a way. Call it the food chain of fighting. Any rat in this room, he can beat seven shades of hell out of Dalton without really trying. But Dalton's mine, and me... well, I can take on every rat in this room, all by myself. And they know it. Know why I can do that?"

"Cause I'm a bleedin' vicious killer," Spike said gleefully. "Come on, hop off."

Miss Kitty glanced down to see the hook lowering itself to the top of a towering stack of crates. At a snarl from Spike she jumped the short distance down to the crate top, and watched as the chain, with Spike aboard, came to rest atop the stack. In the distance, Dalton shouted more orders, and the top of the chain began to trundle across the roof, until it was some distance from the stack, the chain hanging between them as the hook remained precariously balanced where it was.

"Get the idea?" Spike asked. "I'll explain it to you, just to make sure – you never know what daft things kittens'll try, do you? This chain, it's loose. It'll support me, cause I'm a lean fighting rat, but you're a big fluffy kitten, and unless I'm mistaken, a bit heavier than I am. If you try to climb it up to the roof, the hook'll slide off the top of the crate, and drop you down to the floor, and once it stops swinging – assuming you don't fall off and break all your kitty bones – you'll be in reach of all those rats down there. They're not nice rats, li'l bit. I like to keep 'em well fed, but not too well fed, see? So they wouldn't mind at all if a helpless bite-sized kitten like you happened to drop into their laps, and me... well, let's just say that if my mascot thinks she can try to escape, then I figure whatever happens to her, she had it coming. Now, what're you going to do?"

"Good girl," the rat nodded. "Stay put, and you'll live. A while longer, at any rate." With that he turned and scuttled off, along the chain hanging over the huge drop, and eventually up into the rafters. Miss Kitty frowned after him, then curled up tightly so none of the rats would see her cry.

The two cats and Amy paused to catch their breath once they reached the shelter of the bushes. Tara scowled back at the mail building, while Willow turned and fixed Amy with a glare.

"You and that mouse know each other," Willow pointed out, "and you know what this 'mascot' business is about. I'll grant you that the whole 'don't go in there' routine you pulled before was justified, but I want some explanations, now. And don't leave anything out."

"I wouldn't, Will!" Amy protested. Willow glared levelly. "Okay, look," the rat complained, "it's not easy, okay? I'm a rat, see, sneaky is in the bones. It's what I do, it's how rats have stayed alive for as long as there's been rats. Going around admitting to everything you know, that's like saying you're tired of being a rat and ready to give it a try being someone else's dinner..."

"Amy!" snapped Willow, then she sighed and her expression softened. "Look... I know, okay? But this is serious, Tara's kitten is in there, and we almost got jumped just now. I know you like to keep what you know to yourself, but I have to ask this. You can trust me, Amy."

"Not yet," Willow implored her. "I don't know what you've heard about rats, but they can fight. Normally a rat runs from a cat, it's safer, but if you corner a rat, give it no other choice but to fight, it will, and they're nasty. They've got sharp teeth, they're quick as lightning, and they know where to bite so it'll kill."

"Against a street cat," Willow said, "she might get a nasty scratch, if the rat's good, or lucky. But you're not a street cat-" She laid her tail down, conciliatory, as Tara bristled. "No, wait, please... I'm not trying to put you down, okay? Believe me, I wouldn't, but it's the truth. Have you ever fought anything that wasn't made of string and had a bell attached?"

"It's okay," Willow meowed quietly, touching her head to Tara's, "don't be ashamed... but you see? You're a cat, so a rat would be scared of you, but if he had to fight, he could really hurt you. And that's one rat – a whole group, a smart cat scares them, makes them run off and scatter so she can get them one on one."

"I know," Willow nodded, "these rats don't scare, and that makes them dangerous, Tara. I need you to understand that, otherwise you'll get hurt and I don't want that. I don't. Okay?"

"We will," Willow assured her, "I promise. Amy?" The rat looked up, having crouched low to the ground inconspicuously while the two cats were talking.

"First things first," Willow said, crouching to look her in the eye, "you said Miss Kitty's safe, because of this mascot thing. Is that true?"

"Sorry," Willow said, dipping her tail in acknowledgement. "How come she's safe? What's a mascot?"

"This Spike," Amy explained, "they say he sometimes keeps small cats captive, see? Sort of like, like showing off, so the other rats know what he can do. It's like a symbol, show's he's not afraid of cats."

"Yeah," Amy shrugged morosely, "but you know rats, to most rats a cat is a cat, no matter what. You run from cats. Not you, Will, you understand, but that's just me, on account of I know you and all. But other rats, no. If you hear Spike's keeping a cat, you – if you're a rat – you don't tend to think, well, is it a big nasty cat or a little harmless cat, or any of that. You think, he's got a cat, he must be a big rat. That's how it is with rats."

"No," Amy shook her head vehemently, "no, not..." she paused, and cringed a little, "not for a while..."

"Spike... he had a mascot before, a little tom, they say... he got bored... and then, he... well, he didn't have a mascot anymore..." Willow grimaced, and Tara's tail fluffed up in fright.

"But they were going to kill you!" Amy added quickly. "I had to get you out of there, see? You-"

"So you decided it was okay to run away and leave Miss Kitty there," Willow glared, sitting up to her full height.

"You wouldn't have helped her kitten anyway," Amy said defiantly, holding the end of her tail in her forepaws nervously, "you wouldn't... you know that Will, not against those rats. And we've got time, see? This kitten, she's only been in there what, a day? Two?"

"Right, see, I hadn't heard anything about Spike having a new mascot, so I knew she couldn't have been there long!" Amy insisted, twitching her nose. "And Spike won't get bored like he did before for a while, see? We've got time! We can... whatever you do, I don't know. Plan, and... and get more cats, or stuff..." She trailed off, and looked up nervously at Willow.

"I guess..." Willow said, after a long pause, "I guess you're right. You're sure Miss Kitty isn't in any danger yet?"

"Promise, Will, promise," Amy nodded quickly. Willow seemed to relax, and her tail swished over to touch Tara's, soothing her fears.

"I, kind of," Amy said, "kind of, we didn't get on... he kind of wanted to hang around me a bit, so's I'd keep the other mice away from him, but he was bad business, I could tell..."

"Will," Amy protested, "you know me, I don't try to make enemies, I've got enough just from being a rat without going around getting more... but trust me, this was one mouse I didn't want hanging around me. He was small and weak, but I tell you Will, he was nasty, if I'd hung around with him, and it'd gotten around that he had a rat looking out for him, he'd have been beating up on the other mice in no time."

"There's mice at home," Tara said, "not like him... just a few, but they know not to try to sneak into the house or the yard. They're happy being left alone."

"Most mice are," Willow nodded, then turned back to Amy, "but Dalton's different, isn't he? He's worth something to Spike, otherwise those other rats wouldn't let him treat them like that."

"I d-don't know for sure," Amy stammered, "but... back when I ran into him, he was different. He knew stuff, more than a mouse normally does – you know mice, they're not like rats, they don't much care why things are the way they are. Know where to find food, know where to sleep, know where's dangerous to go, that's all your average mouse really thinks about, but Dalton's different, he said... it sounds silly, but he said he was a human mouse. He said one day he'd be in charge of the world, like humans are."

"I know!" Amy protested. "But that's what he used to say... like, all that made people people is that they know stuff. He figured if he knew enough, he'd be like them... a-and... well, you saw him..." Willow thought a moment, then nodded.

"He read human," she said flatly, "and none of the rats dared speak up against him. Normally, I wouldn't say any rat would take orders from a mouse like that."

"No way Will," Amy agreed, "not even me. I may be a coward, but I'm still a rat."

"Me neither," Willow said. "Until now, I'd have said it was impossible, just like people can't read scent like we can... but he read my collar tag, and yours," she glanced at Tara's collar, then smiled. "I guess they confirms it: people really do put our names on our tags. I've always wondered." She twitched her whiskers, then grew serious again.

"So Dalton's a very smart mouse, and he's worth enough to Spike that no- one else dares take a chunk out of him no matter how he behaves towards them." She paused, then flattened her ears in thought. "I don't know how just yet, but that might be useful. To get Miss Kitty back we have to take on Spike's gang. The more we know, the better our chances – that's one thing I think Dalton had right," she said to Amy, "the more you know, the better off you are."

"You've got a plan, Will?" Amy asked eagerly, then paused, and looked worried. "Do I have to do something dangerous?"

"No, but you do have to do something you won't like," Willow said with a slight grin. "Let's say, I'm starting to get a plan. But I need to know what we're up against. I need to know what's inside that place – how many rats, where they are, where they go, where they've got Miss Kitty."

"Dark soon," Amy said, glancing at the sky. Tara looked on curiously, wondering what Willow had in mind.

"We can't go storming in there just yet," Willow smiled, "so we might as well get something to eat. I know a place that'll do. Amy, I want you to go to the park, make sure you get there before dusk."

"Okay Will," Amy nodded quickly, "what do you- hey, wait... you don't want me to find him, do you?"

"He does not!" Willow frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you, 'vampire bat' is just a human expression. He eats... berries, and stuff."

"Look, I know he likes the whole creature-of-the-night image, and the dark, mysterious brooding and all that, but he will not eat you. Okay? Find him, tell him what's going on, and tell him I'm calling in the favor he owes me. Tonight, I want him at one of those windows up there," she glanced at the top of the mail building, "watching everything those rats do in there. We'll meet back at the park at dawn, by the big oak with the low branches, and we'll figure out what our plan will be. Then we'll get Miss Kitty back. Okay?" she looked at Tara.

"Here we are," Willow said, dropping nimbly down from a gutter onto a crate. She had led Tara across the rooftops towards the setting sun a fair distance, finally turning towards the river, taking advantage of a pedestrian bridge to cross the main road. Where the river broadened into a bay there were a cluster of wide one story buildings with flat roofs, and Tara found her tail perking up of its own accord at the strong scent of dozens of varieties of fish.

"Fish shop," Willow said, "a giant fish shop. These big boats go out and catch them from the deep water somehow, then bring them here and hundreds of people show up and take them home to eat. Or some of them eat it here...only they like to burn it before they eat it."

"I know," Tara said with a wry grin, "my people do that too...Only with what they eat, though, they know better than to give me burned fish."

"If you ask me, the whole human sense of taste is warped," Willow replied. "Anyway, there's always some left over at the end of each day, so if you know how...we'll just scoot under here," she added, flattening herself against the ground to crawl beneath a sliding door, "yeah, if you know how," she went on as Tara emerged behind her, "you can grab a bit before it disappears to wherever they take their left-overs. Quiet now."

She and Tara slunk stealthily among towers of crates, Willow pausing at each corner, peering around before twitching her tail to signal the all-clear for Tara to follow her.

"Here we go," she said finally, after they reached the other side of the crates. A series of trays were stacked vertically in a rack, most with pieces of fish scattered about them, but all reeking with the scent of them, clearly having carried much greater loads earlier in the day.

"We don't want to hang around too long," Willow advised, "people wander around now and then. Pick a decent piece of your favorite and we'll go somewhere safe to eat. Oh, and careful when we go back under that door, you don't want to get any dirt on your dinner." She sniffed around a few trays, finally finding a variety she liked and snapping up a piece. Tara picked up a familiar scent and followed it back to its source, nudging aside a couple of scraps to reach a fair-sized portion of fish.

With their fish securely held in their jaws, the two cats retreated from the building to a small patch of parkland nearby. Willow ducked under a vacant bench and pushed her way through some bushes to a tiny stream bed, setting her fish down on a smooth stone jutting up out of the water.

"I like this place," she said, "during the middle of the day the water runs through here. The people seem to like it, so they turn the stream on when they're around. It keeps the rocks nice and clean, good to eat off. Just don't nap here around midday, or you get a rude awakening...oh," she looked down, "um, if you want the rock...there's another one just over here I can use-" Tara shook her head and dropped her fish next to Willow's.

"I don't mind sharing," she offered. Willow's ears slanted forward happily as she sat back down, and her tail twitched merrily now and then once she'd tucked it neatly around her feet.

"This is nice," Tara said shyly after taking a few bites, "I'd expected...well, you know, living off the land..."

"Freshly-caught rat for dinner?" Willow finished for her. "Nah...there're some cats that live like that, usually the ones who refuse to have anything at all to do with people. Even if it's just relieving them of some bits of fish they don't have any use for," she added with a wink. "Besides, if I started eating rats, Amy'd never let me hear the end of it. Don't let that little meek rat act of hers fool you, she can lay on a guilt trip like nobody's business." Tara gave an amused little purr, then looked quizzically at Willow.

"How come..." she began, "I mean...when you say cats who don't want anything to do with people...I kind of got the impression you'd be one of them." Willow paused, then shrugged.

"Yeah, I can see why," she admitted. "Look, I don't hate people, as a whole. I mean, there's cats, people, rats, mice, birds...more-broody-than-thou bats," she added with a chuckle, "we're all here, and we do the best we can. For all their faults, people have as much right to be here as we do. So I try not to be any trouble, and mostly people are no trouble to me. I've watched the big fish shop, for example, I've seen them chase strays out in the morning when the fish is piled high, but they don't bother much about the leftover fish in the evening – so that's when I go there."

"But," she added, swallowing, "when people think it's okay to own us, like we're...like we're just toys, that bothers me. If some human gets all upset about me taking a bit of fish, fine, I'll leave him and his fish alone. But if he thinks that giving me fish means that he's in charge of me, I don't...it's not worth it. I'd rather be on the street than owned, even if it did mean I had to chase my own food and maybe go hungry sometimes."

She reached for another piece of fish, then hesitated and looked at Tara, dipping her whiskers regretfully.

"Sorry," she said in a soft meow, "I shouldn't have gone on like that. I don't mean to offend you."

"I..." Tara began, then dipped her whiskers likewise, "it's alright. I'm not offended." Willow smiled gratefully.

"Your collar," Tara began hesitantly, "I thought...only housecats had them...?" Willow gave her a level stare, then nodded sadly.

"Yeah," she agreed, "only housecats. So far as I know, anyway." She took a bite of fish, then glanced into Tara's curious gaze.

"Not me," she explained. "I was a kitten, probably no bigger than your Miss Kitty. My people were a male and a female, living in a little apartment in a building across the other side of town, over the river. They both went out during the day, to do whatever it is people have to do – getting food, or running one of those shops, or whatever. They'd give me a meal in the morning, and leave a snack for me to have later...they'd come home, one or other of them would put dinner out for me. Give me a pat now and then, and I'd purr, or the female would sometimes put me in her lap, and stroke me while she was reading, or watching the television thingy. It was..." she sighed, "it was a decent life." Her tail lay motionless as she remembered, and her ears turned outward glumly.

"Then one day they went away," she continued. "I don't know where. Packed up all their things and put them in a truck. Gave me a pat, picked me up, put me down on the building's front step, and just drove off. I never saw them again. I was..." she paused and sniffed back a sob. "I was just a little kitten...never even been outside the building before. People would look at me now and then, and just walk past. I waited...two days, I waited for them to come back. But they didn't. I wanted to cry, but I thought I just had to wait a little longer, and they'd come back...so I didn't cry. I got hungry, and slept out in the cold waiting for them-" She broke off and turned away, hunching her shoulders and dipping her head down.

"I-I was cold, and hungry," she went on in a tiny voice, "and the second night, this little ratling came up to me and asked if I was okay. I didn't know what to say, I'd never met a rat before or anything, so I just said I was hungry, which was the first thing that popped into my head to say. And she scuttled off, and I curled up again and tried to keep warm while I was waiting, and I didn't think anything more of her. Then...later, she came back, and she was dragging this scrap of paper, and there was a bit of fish wrapped up in it...She'd dragged it all the way from where she found it, going backwards, pulling it with her teeth, and she was even smaller than I was."

"She was just a little ratling," she said, "plus, her being a rat and me being a cat...she was afraid of me, you know? Afraid of a little kitten. She told me later...but she didn't leave me there. The people who owned me did. A rat brought me food, when my people," she said bitterly, "left a kitten out on the street."

Tara wanted to cry herself, but Willow's silence stopped her. On soft paws she moved closer, letting her tail touch Willow's as she sat next to her.

"My collar..." Willow went on after a moment, "I...it reminds me. After a while it was getting tight, as I was growing up, and Amy helped me undo it. Rat paws are good for that sort of thing. I could've just got rid of it...but I asked her to put it back on, just looser. So I don't forget. It's...what happened to me...it's part of who I am."

Tara gently touched her forehead to Willow's neck, then rubbed her nose up behind her ear. A sad little purr escaped Willow.

"I-I n-n...never..." Willow began to reply, then she slowly lay down at Tara's feet. She craned her neck back, eyes closed, and let out a quiet, mournful meow, crying softly into the night. Tara lay down with her, their furry sides pressed against each other, and rested her head on Willow's paws.

Finally Willow grew silent, and let her head drop down, her chin resting between Tara's ears. She slowly realized that Tara was purring, quietly and hesitantly – not purring in response to anything, but deliberately. The sound soothed her, and the vibrations touched her through the soft skin of her neck, resting against the back of Tara's head.

"One time," Tara said, "my person, Buffy...she'd been seeing a male for a while, a tom. And I think he decided not to see her anymore...at least, he never came to the house after that. I didn't know that at the time, I just came into her room one day and she was crying. You know, the way people do, when their eyes leak...she was so sad I could feel it, and I didn't know what to do. But I knew she liked my purr, she's always patting me and then resting her head on my side while I purr, so I jumped up on the bed next to her and lay up against her and purred. And it made her feel better. I-I...what your people did to you was...terrible...I just want you to feel better, somehow, even if it's only a bit..."

"I do," Willow said gratefully, "I really do...Your people are so lucky, you know...do they- they're good people, right?"

"Yes, they are," Tara replied, turning her head slightly to look at Willow, as she lay her head down beside her. "I understand why you feel the way you do about people, I do. I-I wish your people had been better...Buffy and Dawn, and Giles and Joyce, though, they aren't like that. They'd never do what your people did." She looked grief-stricken suddenly. "They must be so worried about Miss Kitty and me..."

"Shh," Willow soothed her, "it's not your fault Miss Kitty got stuck in that truck. A-and you're doing the best thing you can for your people. You're bringing her back to them, so...so they don't have to lose part of their family."

"What if," Tara meowed miserably, "what if they think we ran away? If th- they think...I left them, like your people left you? How could I leave them like that-"

"No," Willow said quickly, "I don't...Tara, listen. I know I don't know your people, and I've been all anti-people anyway, but...but I'm sure they wouldn't think that. I'm sure they...they know you love them. And you're going to come back to them, and bring Miss Kitty home to them, and you'll be a whole family again."

"Me too," Willow promised. She paused a moment, hesitating, then reached forward just enough to brush her nose against Tara's. "You'll be alright," she whispered. Tara blinked in surprise, but before she could respond Willow was getting up.

"Come on, let's finish dinner," she said, "save a few bites, it'll last until morning – we'll have a good breakfast so we're all ready to go rescue Miss Kitty. Okay?"

"Right," Tara smiled, getting back up and returning to her meal. Now and then, though, she'd steal glances at Willow, when she wasn't looking, and a little, thoughtful frown creased her furry brow.

After dinner the two cats found a soft patch of ground, out of the wind and sheltered by leaves, and curled up to rest. Tara found sleep elusive, and after she had gotten up and padded down her chosen spot three times, Willow sidled up to her.

"Fine," Tara said, with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, "just, you know...unfamiliar ground. I miss the blankets in my basket," she admitted with a shy grin. "Actually...when it's time to sleep, Miss Kitty always hops into my basket and curls up next to me." She paused, and slowly lay down. "I miss her."

Willow watched her for a moment, then silently lay down with her, nestling against her. Almost automatically Tara rolled more onto her side, letting Willow curl up against her stomach, with her head pillowed on Tara's paws.

"'At's what I'm here for," she murmured, already sounding sleepy. Tara listened to her breathing, with its soft purr, for a while. Drowsiness came to her easier, and she closed her eyes. Quietly, so as not to wake Willow, she whispered: "I love you."

"Hey," Willow prodded Tara gently with her nose. After several stretches and various twitches of her tail, during which she began purring as Willow repeatedly prodded her, Tara opened her eyes.

"'S still dark," Tara frowned, getting to her feet and arching her back until her front and back paws touched.

"Nice stretch," Willow complimented, "yeah, but we have to get to the park so we can plan our daring rescue." Tara nodded, then noticed Willow's fur was a little ruffled between her ears.

"What?" Willow asked, seeing Tara glance at the top of her head. "Oh...see, that's what I get for cuddling up all night, I have morning fur." She raised a paw to lick and smooth herself down, but Tara leaned in before she could begin.

"Here," she offered, gently licking down Willow's fur. Willow returned her paw to the ground with a thud, steadying herself as she began to purr thunderously.

"Thanks," she managed when Tara finished and stepped back, grinning shyly and sliding her tail demurely around her forepaws as she sat.

"Don't mention it," Tara replied quietly. "Um, Willow? Th-thanks for...for sleeping with me...you know, curled up there. I felt a lot better with you, um, not so – not so lonely."

"My pleasure," Willow said with a gentle smile, while tilting her head to one side as if trying to work something out. She then got up and swished her tail extravagantly. "Let's go get Miss Kitty, huh? We'll get your family back together."

"Let's," Tara agreed, swallowing what she had been about to say. 'Right,' she thought to herself, following Willow through the bushes, 'it'll be just like it was before. My home, my people, Miss Kitty...it's a good life.' She shook her head, glancing now and then towards Willow to make sure she hadn't noticed her upset. 'It's a good life,' she told herself again, 'even if it doesn't have Willow in it...'

For her part, Willow concentrated on the task at hand, trying to push thoughts of the future out of her mind. 'I won't let you be lonely,' she promised Tara silently, 'I'll get Miss Kitty back for you...and you and she can go home together. And I'll- I'll manage. I always have. Right? Right.'

The sky was just brightening with the dawn when the two cats reached the stone wall marking the edge of the park. Willow showed Tara where to hop over it, and led her through the dense undergrowth.

"I've been thinking," she said as they neared the open grassy expanse on the other side.

"We're going to need help with this," Willow explained. "With the rats, I mean."

"Know someone?" Willow asked. "Uh-huh, if he's around...it's the beginning of one of their not-working days, he's usually around here somewhere early on, his people bring him out here while their young play games with balls..."

"Xander," Willow said, "yeah, a friend – met him a year ago, he's pretty good. Not exactly subtle, but...ah, you'll see. Oh, hi Natalie," Willow said, spotting an insect on a branch. "Seen Xander this morning?" The preying mantis looked at her quizzically.

"Xan-der?" Willow asked slowly. The mantis turned her head and pointed across the grass with one tapering claw.

"Okay, thanks," Willow said. "Nice girl," she added to Tara as they walked along one of the park's gravel paths, "not too bright, but that's insects for you – good memory though. If Xander's over here he's probably romping around in the bushes somewhere, so he should be easy enough to find."

"ARF-ARF-ARF-ARF-ARF!" Tara ducked and scrambled back as a huge shape burst out of the bushes and bellowed at Willow from point blank range.

"ARF-ARF- oh, hey Willow," the creature said, his fanged jaws suddenly turning into a broad smile, with the tip of a tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Xander, this is- Tara? Oh..." Willow turned to see Tara several feet away, claws planted in the ground, tail fuzzed up to epic proportions.

"Ya big goof," Willow muttered. "Tara, it's okay, he's harmless, he's a friend...Tara?" She fixed Xander in place with a glare, then sauntered over to Tara and gave her a gentle nuzzle.

"That is a dog," Willow echoed. "Are you okay? He does that to everyone, it's just a dog thing...come on, tail down, I promise...Tara?"

"S-sorry," she murmured, "I-I was just...he came out of nowhere, and all that noise..."

"Hey, shh," Willow whispered soothingly, "it's alright...Xander!" she glared back at the dog.

"Sorry," he said, drooping his head down to the ground. Despite her shock, Tara couldn't help finding the gesture likeable.

"I'm okay," she said, retracting her claws and venturing a couple of paces forward.

"Well, to make up for that tactless bit of buffoonery," Willow said, "you're helping us out today."

"I'll explain everything," Willow assured him, "we're meeting Amy and Angel by the big oak. Tara, you okay?"

"I'm okay," Tara said, her shock all but forgotten. 'My girl,' she replayed Willow's words in her mind, 'I'm her girl? I'm her girl...'

"Good," Willow nodded. "Well, at least you can see what I've got in mind. It doesn't matter how confident a pack of rats are, when a gigantic dog charges at them barking his head off, they'll scatter before they have time to think."

Amy and Angel were waiting as promised, the rat curled up next to one of the huge old oak tree's roots, the bat hanging from its lowest branch.

"Angel, get down here," Willow greeted him. He unfurled his wings and dropped, flipping over just in time to land on clawed feet. Amy scuttled over to Willow as Angel drew himself up to his full height, one wing held ominously across his face and chest.

"Yeah yeah," Willow replied, "good to see you too." Angel seemed to deflate a little, and let his wing drop.

"This is Tara?" he went on, nodding towards her as he waddled awkwardly forward, using his wings to balance.

"From what Amy tells me, you've got courage," the bat said levelly, then dropped his voice an octave to add: "let's hope that's enough." Amy cringed behind Willow a little further.

"Angel," Willow sighed, "humans have this phrase, 'drama queen'...never mind, did you check out the mail building?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Amy?" The rat scurried forward and used a tiny paw to scratch a plan in the dirt. The other animals clustered around to watch – Willow frowning in concentration, Tara thoughtful, Xander curious.

"Firstly," Angel said, "this is not your everyday rat gang. They're organized, sophisticated. They're led by a rat named-"

"...yeah," Angel admitted, seemingly disappointed to be denied the chance to perform a dramatic revelation. "Yeah, Spike...he's the brawn, all the rats are afraid of him, but the brains of the operation is-"

"...yeah," Angel sighed forlornly. He squared his shoulders and pointed a wing-tip at Amy's drawing.

"This is their headquarters," he went on, "based in the room the humans keep all their mail machines in. Spike's place is here, at the center on top of this crate. From there he has lines of sight to the whole floor – he watches everything his rats do. They're primarily here, not far from Spike. Dalton is here, this platform, on the other side of Spike. Your kitten," he said to Tara, "is here. This pile of boxes, above the main rat nest. It's to tall for a cat to climb up or down."

"Dalton," Angel said darkly. "He controls the machines. That's what this platform does – I saw him manipulate this panel, the way humans do. Pushing buttons, turning...things that turn...and so on. Through him, Spike can make any machine in the whole room do what he wants. One of them is a chain and pulley hanging from the ceiling, that moves back and forth. They put the kitten onto it, lift it up, drop her on top of the pile of boxes. The chain's swung out to one side of the pile – a rat can run along it. If the kitten tries, the pulley slips off the pile, and she gets dumped back on the floor. Where the rats are."

"Wouldn't work," Angel declared. "Even if she secured the pulley to the boxes somehow, the rats would see her. There's no cover up there. And they can get up to the ceiling on either side of the room – they'd corner her on the ceiling beams."

"But you can carry Amy," Willow pointed out, causing Amy to do a double- take. "No, listen – you fly past, drop Amy on the boxes-"

"Carefully drop Amy," Willow amended, "the rats'll have only a few seconds to react, if she secures the pulley...somehow...could she and Miss Kitty reach the windows before the rats reach them?"

"What about Dalton?" Angel pointed out. "If we're seen he could move the pulley and chain – Amy can't carry anything strong enough to secure it against the pull of the machine."

"Okay, okay..." Willow paused, frowning in thought. "How about this: we take out Dalton. He's just one mouse, we can deal with that-"

"Those rats," Amy said, "those rats specifically, not rats in general. This rat in general is quite scared enough already."

"That's a good idea," Willow said. "Xander – Angel, where's the door? The one to the front of the building? I've got a plan."

"Okay, Tara and I get in through the grille in the corridor," Willow said, "only this time, we open the door to the outside before we go any further. We let Xander in, he charges into the main room barking like a maniac, scares all the rats, they run away, or start chasing him, Spike being the muscle will probably join in – you can outrun a rat, can't you?"

"Be careful anyway. Angel, at the same time you and Amy get in through one of the top windows," Willow went on, "while all the rats are distracted, you land on Dalton's platform. Angel, you subdue him while Amy watches your back. Get him to lower Miss Kitty down using the pulley – that way we don't need to do all this sneaking around the roof. Tara and I will creep around while all the rats are busy – if Miss Kitty sees you," she added to Tara, "it'll calm her down, and we'll be able to get her out nice and quick."

"We and Miss Kitty get out via the grille," Willow concluded, "Xander, you circle around and leave through the open door you came in through, Angel, grab Amy and take off. By the time they've figured out what's happening we'll be out of there. How's that sound?"

"Doesn't seem like we have a lot of options," Angel muttered, reaching forward with a wingtip.

"Thanks for that resounding optimism," Amy glared at him. "Oh...dammit. Okay." She extended her small paw.

From the hedgerow outside the mail sorting building, four furry heads emerged – two cats, one dog, and one rat sitting on top of the dog's head. In unison they looked one way, then the other, then fixed on the closed door at the building's side, and the grille next to it.

"Here," Angel said from his hiding place in a bush directly behind her, making everyone jump.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, making his way awkwardly forward on his hind legs and wingtips, "they're in there, asleep for the most part – a couple of sentries, nothing more. There's one rat alone in a kind of private nest, I'm guessing that's Spike. The others are around him. That mouse is up on his platform, with a rat asleep beside him. No-one saw me."

"Still on top of the stack of crates," Angel replied. "She looks okay. Frightened, but she's not hurt."

"Alright," Willow said, "we stick with the plan. Xander, you're with us. Angel, take Amy. Wait for Xander to make his entrance, then get Dalton."

"I do this under protest," Amy reminded everyone, as Angel lurched forward and gripped her shoulders in his feet. "This is not my idea of a good- eep!"

The two cats and one dog watched as Angel took off, beating his wings furiously to get enough height to glide properly, with the struggling rat held securely beneath him.

"Come on," Willow said, flattening her ears and starting forward, "every second counts now."

The trio scampered quickly across the open ground, arriving unseen at the shaft with the open grille in it. Xander poked his head inquisitively inside.

"Out," Willow ordered with a grin, "you won't fit doofus. Wait here, we'll open the door for you."

"Okay," the dog nodded, flopping down to the ground. Tara gave him a grateful smile, then followed Willow into the shaft.

"Huh? Oh- no...the darn grille's stuck," Willow explained sheepishly, "must've been when all this idiot rats slammed into it, it's wedged shut. Here, give me a paw with this." Together the two cats braced their foreheads against the grille and pushed.

"That's better," Willow grinned, as the grille gave way and swung open. "Okay, now...hmm..." she trailed off purring, as Tara leaned up and licked down the fur on her forehead that had been slightly mussed up.

"You don't have to," Tara protested, nevertheless ducking her head to give Willow easy access to her fur.

"Neither did you," Willow mumbled between licks, "that's what friends are for. There, all beautiful again." Tara ducked her head further, bashfully, as Willow sat back to admire her work.

"Um, we should..." she said hesitantly, nodding towards the far end of the shaft.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Willow nodded, leading the way. She paused at the end of it, cautiously peering out into the corridor beyond.

"Yeah," Willow said, twitching her whiskers with resolve, "thinking positive. Positive thoughts. Okay, let's do this." Quickly she slunk out of the shaft and along the side wall, reaching the alcove with the door, beyond which Xander was presumably waiting.

"No," Tara admitted, "they have these knob things, I can never get a grip on them to turn them like my people do. They mostly leave them open for me anyway."

"Ah, that kind," Willow nodded, "they're tricky at the best of times. Luckily this," she smiled up at the door handle, "is one of the kind that's easy to work with. All you have to do it grab a hold of that bar thingy, and pull it down. Watch and learn." She jumped nimbly up, got both forepaws over the latch, and hung there for a moment in embarrassed silence.

"Of course," she admitted from her awkward position, "some of them need a bit more pulling than others...would you mind?"

"Sure," Tara said, trying to keep her whiskers straight. Balancing on her hind legs she got her forepaws around Willow, hugged her tightly, and began taking her weight off her back paws, adding it to Willow's on the stubborn door handle.

"I promise this isn't just an excuse to get another snuggle out of you," Willow said with a nervous purr, as the latch began to turn. All of a sudden it flipped down, leaving Willow and Tara to fall backwards in a feline heap as the door gently swung inward.

"Yeah, me too," Willow groaned, getting to her paws and helping Tara up. They looked up to see Xander's head poking around the door.

"Nothing," both cats said at once. They glanced at each other, and shared an embarrassed smile.

Some time later, while attempting to relate the confused events of the next several minutes, Amy summed it up thusly:

T minus zero: Heroic if reluctant rat and broody bat observe events from open window high on the east wall. Excitable dog enters mail room via main door, barking like a maniac. Various slumbering rats have minor heart attacks.

T plus five seconds: Broody bat takes a dive off the windowsill, taking heroic rat with him, leading to nightmares which will likely last the rest of her life. In a desperate attempt to fix her sight on something other than the floor approaching at great speed, rat notices pair of stubborn cats slinking in via main door, unseen by rats who are running around any old how, uncertain whether to chase excitable dog or be chased by it – many attempting to do both at once.

T plus five seconds and about a dozen very panicked rat heartbeats: Drama queen bat lifts out of dive with half a whisker to spare, carrying swearing rat with him over low-lying crates and so forth. Quick glance confirms that Spike and his rats remain ignorant of the aerial component of our insane plan.

T plus eight seconds, or thereabouts: Rotten bat drops heroic rat on Dalton's platform quite unceremoniously. It is small consolation to this rat's bruised backside that this allows said bat to perform a flying head-butt on Dalton's assistant, knocking him off the platform.

T plus nine seconds: Excitable dog herds rats away from target kitten's perch atop stack of crates, allowing stubborn cats to get close enough to reach kitten once she is lowered from said perch.

T plus ten seconds: Rat and bat fulfill their part of the plan by demanding, in no uncertain terms, that Dalton – currently cowering among various boxes of bits and pieces and random miscellany that constitute his home – put himself to work carefully lowering target kitten from her perch, as planned.

"Make that pulley thing move!" Amy demanded fiercely of the mouse cowering in front of her. "Get the kitten down safely, or we break your scrawny little neck!"

"A little over-enthusiastic, aren't you?" Angel wondered quietly. Dalton scrabbled among the overturned heap of small boxes he had been sleeping among. In the background Xander's barking echoed around the large room, preceded by and pursued by the squeaking of Spike's rat gang, engaged in a panicked mix of chase and escape.

"This mouse and I have history," Amy glared, advancing on Dalton, "I do not like this mouse."

"I don't like you either, rat!" Dalton squeaked angrily, pulling from the overturned heap a strange contraption of twisted paper clips and elastic bands. The end of it caught Amy on the side of her head, sending her sprawling back, while Dalton aimed the sharpened metal rod at the thing's end at Angel.

"Whoops," the bat said quickly, dropping backwards off the back of the platform, just in time as Dalton released the elastic bands, sending the skewer of metal flying.

"Come back here!" the mouse squeaked shrilly, struggling to wedge another skewer into the makeshift weapon and pull the thick elastic back at the same time. Angel swooped back into view, darting in and out of the surrounding crates. Flying low near the floor, out of Dalton's view, he found himself racing towards Xander, stampeding back towards him with several rats scrambling madly in front of him, and many more in pursuit behind.

"Oh, hey Angel," he said jovially between barks. Angel let out a desperate squawk and beat his wings, shooting upwards just before he would have collided with the charging dog.

"There you are!" Dalton grinned in triumph, taking aim at the startled bat as it shot upwards out of the crates.

"Huh?" The mouse turned in confusion to meet Amy's clenched paw coming the other way. His weapon flew out of his paws as he tipped backwards over the edge of the platform, plummeting down to land, with a pained squeak, in a box moving along one of the conveyor belts below.

"Think your way out of that," Amy smiled as she watched the sorting machine neatly close Dalton's box and stamp 'Airmail' on its top. Grinning she strutted back to the other side of the platform, to find Willow and Tara in position by Miss Kitty's stack of crates, glancing nervously back at her.

"Oh," Amy said, her face falling, "right...um..." She took a step back and jumped up onto the control panel, looking hopefully at the bewildering array of knobs, dials, switches and buttons.

"Can't be that difficult," she said after a thoughtful pause, "if humans can work it...lemme see here..."

Spike vaulted to the top of a crate and glared down at his rats, who were milling around in confusion, mostly hiding from the rampaging canine.

"Stop running!" he squeaked at the top of his voice. "Haven't I taught you anything?! Get out of sight, the people will be here any minute! They'll get rid of the damned dog! Now let's- woah!" he squeaked as the crate beneath him suddenly lurched back on its conveyor belt, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor.

"Dalton, how many times have I told you-" he grumbled, before a groaning sound alerted him and he flipped over onto his back, staring up. The conveyor belt abruptly reversed direction, and Spike barely had time to scramble away before the crate he had been on top of seconds earlier crashed into the floor, splintering and sending foam packaging everywhere.

"Boss!" one of the rats shrieked in panic, as Xander careened by, scattering several others, while two nearby belts suddenly started running towards each other, sending boxes crashing together, tipping them onto the floor.

"Dalton!" Spike yelled, craning his neck to see over the confusion. For a moment he got a glimpse of a panicked-looking rat atop Dalton's platform.

"You!" he squeaked. "What are you doing?! Get down from there!" The rat looked up at him, startled, then ducked out of sight.

"Hey, you're not one of my rats!" Spike snarled. "You, and you," he grabbed two sprawled rats by the scruffs of their necks and hauled them to their paws, "come with me! Move!"

Amy hurled herself against a button, managing to press it at the expense of a bruised head.

"Ow...oops," she added, looking up to see the result of her effort, a packing machine picking up boxes from a belt and dropping them into an increasing pile on the floor. Sirens were wailing, red lights flashing – it seemed everything in the sorting room except the chain and pulley leading to Miss Kitty was in chaotic motion.

Taking a moment to survey the scene, Amy cringed as a wayward cardboard box sailed across the room and landed squarely on Xander's head. The dog continued to charge around blindly, barking madly, scattering the rats too panicked or stupid to hide as he crashed through stacks of boxes and piles of neatly-arranged letters.

Nearer by Willow and Tara were slinking from cover to cover, trying to stay out of sight as the dog and rats rampaged back and forth. Tara had her eyes fixed on Miss Kitty, high stop her crates, meowing to her as loud as she dared over the noise of the sorting machines going haywire. Willow meanwhile was glaring up at the platform, alternately ducking at any particularly loud crashes, and demanding Amy stop fooling around and get Miss Kitty down.

Which meant neither of them were looking behind them, where Amy, from her high vantage point, could see-

"Wha?" Willow spun around just in time to see Spike emerge from between two crates, aiming Dalton's improvised crossbow at her. Two more rats appeared behind them, cutting off their avenue of escape.

"Stay down!" Willow hissed, instantly moving in front of Tara, shielding her from the jagged point of Spike's weapon.

"Well well," the rat gloated, "two little kitties...all this is your doing? It's Willow, isn't it? I've heard of you, street cat."

"Yeah? Well I've heard of you, gutter rat," Willow shot back in a show of bravado as she tried to work out what to do. Behind her, Tara glared at the two rats facing her, grateful for once that her tail had fuzzed up enormously. The rats seemed unmoved by her display, but held off their advance.

"Careful," Spike warned, raising the weapon to his shoulder, "you don't want to hurt my feelings."

"Willow be careful!" Amy squeaked from above. "That thing's dangerous! Xander!" There was a distant bark, and the sound of the dog crashing blindly through another stack of boxes.

"Quiet you!" Spike snarled, swinging the weapon to bear on her, "I may not be a sodding super-mouse but I can aim this thing well enough to pick you off, ratling! Hey!" He swung back to face Willow. "No smart ideas...not that I'd expect any from a cat in any case."

"You're not leaving at all," Spike grinned savagely. "So, which one gets skewered and which one gets taken down by rats? I'll let you two decide."

"I'm sorry I got you into this," Willow whispered, her voice soft and kind, despite the icy glare she was maintaining in Spike's direction. "I really screwed it up."

"Aww, how touching," Spike sneered, "well, sorry to break up this sappy moment, but it's time for you two to sniff your butts goodbye."

Legs whirring, Miss Kitty leapt into the air, wrapping all four paws around the chain to the pulley and hook. This in turn jerked the heavy pulley off the top of the stack of crates, dropping it, and the kitten hanging on grimly above it, until it reached the full extent of the chain and swung.

Spike had just enough time to say "What the bleedin-" before the pulley slammed into him, propelling him up into the air, and with a painful crash through one of the sorting room's high windows. In the moment of stunned silence that followed, there was a distant splash from the river outside.

The two remaining rats slowly lowered their gazes from the broken window high above to the two cats in front of them. Tara turned back to them, stared wide-eyed for a moment, then fuzzed her tail, arched her back and bared her fangs.

"Next!" she hissed fiercely, sending the two rats scattering like mice, clambering and tripping over each other in their hurry to get away. Tara let out a sigh of relief and turned back to find Willow staring at her in surprise.

Their attention was drawn back to the swinging pulley as it passed by again, still with Miss Kitty clinging to it.

"Jump," Tara called out to her as she swung back up, "when you pass by, jump! I'll catch you."

"'Kay," Miss Kitty's distant meow echoed back, as her chain reached the top of its backswing and started down again.

Tara braced herself, with Willow watching worriedly, and reared up onto her hind legs as the chain swung down and Miss Kitty let go, propelling herself away from it, towards Tara. Tara caught the kitten on her chest and wrapped her forepaws protectively around her as they both fell over backwards, Willow in turn catching Tara, softening her fall. All three ended up in a furry heap on the floor.

"Tara!" Miss Kitty meowed excitedly, "you rescued me!" She began emitting roaring purrs, nuzzling warmly into Tara's fur.

"I think you just rescued me," Tara purred in reply, getting to her feet and giving Miss Kitty affectionate licks on her forehead as she continued to nuzzle her.

Willow stood back a little, watching the cat and kitten with a melancholy smile.

Willow walked along just a step behind Tara, who was leading the way, and Miss Kitty, who was excitedly recounting her 'adventure' as a prisoner of the rat gang. The excitement of her rescue seemed to have pushed the fear she had felt from her mind. She chattered about the rats, listened to Tara describing how she had found her and how Willow had gathered all the animals that had helped them, interrupting frequently with exclamations.

Willow grinned despite herself at the kitten's enthusiasm for, well, everything, and mustered a warm smile whenever Tara glanced back at her. But in truth she was lost in her own thoughts.

"So what now, Will?" Amy had said, once they had made their way back to the park. True to form the humans occupying the building had been too busy making a fuss about the malfunctioning machines, and the rats scurrying all over the place, to look too closely and notice the furtive cats sneaking out while their backs were turned. Someone had called out 'Hey, is that a dog?', just as Xander was heading for the door, but no-one had paid much attention, or bothered going after them.

On reaching the park, the group had gone its separate ways. Angel had wandered off, grumbling about having to find a branch to hang from so late in the day, when all the best ones were taken. Xander had headed back to where all the dogs played, in the hope of finding Cordelia before her people took her off to be groomed for the hundredth time. Amy had hung around for a moment, while Tara cleaned Miss Kitty while she was snacking on a piece of chicken from a picnic table no one had been paying attention to.

"Well," Willow had said half-heartedly, "I guess I'll walk them home…you know, just make sure they get there all right."

"What do you mean, and then?" Willow asked quickly. "And then I'll…I'll just…same as usual. Wander around…grab a bite to eat…stuff…"

"Hey Will," the rat said, glancing around nonchalantly, "you ever think of settling down?"

"Of course not!" Willow had said automatically, "I'm not a house cat, I'm me!"

Amy had departed shortly after, intent on making sure the rumors she was sure would spread about her part in the defeat of Spike were suitably embellished and flattering to her personally. 'Why did she say goodbye?' Willow wondered, walking along listening with half an ear to Tara's gentle voice. Amy had said goodbye when she left–not 'goodbye' the way she and Willow usually said it, meaning 'I'll be back before you know it' in Amy's case, or 'I'm sure you'll turn up soon' in Willow's.

'It's not like I'm not coming back,' Willow thought to herself, 'why did she say goodbye like 'goodbye'? I mean, what, I'm going to stay with Tara? Sure I'd love to, but me? House cat? How's that going to work?'

"Um, Willow," she imagined Tara saying, "would you like to stay with me and be a house cat?"

"Why sure," Willow imagined herself replying jauntily, "I just can't wait to give up the freedom and independence of being a street cat, in exchange for a bowl with my name on it, and some people thinking they own me, and being expected to sleep on a blanket in a corner somewhere…with you. All snuggled up, with your paw around me, and I can hear you purring gently in your sleep…"

'Didn't that sentence start out as sarcastic?' Willow thought to herself. She sighed, and admitted the truth to herself–she wanted to stay with Tara. 'But Tara's a house cat. The only way I could stay with her would be to be a house cat too, and I can't do that, that's not who I am. And she wouldn't want to be a street cat–always having to think ahead to where your next meal is coming from, staying on the look-out for rival cats, having to find somewhere out of the wind and rain to sleep…why do I like this again?' Willow frowned to herself, missing Tara's glance back at her, which lingered, and became concerned.

'But I'm not a house cat' Willow went on to herself, 'I'm not, and houses and non-house cats don't belong together. It's practically written on my collar, 'Street Cat'. That's me. I'm not going back to being some naïve kitten with people who treat her like a toy, or just toss her away when they're bored of her. I won't be like that again.'

"Willow?" Tara asked, making Willow jump–she'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed Tara drop back to walk beside her.

"What?" Willow asked nervously. "What makes you think anything's the matter? I mean, I could be entirely free of matter. Are there signs of matter?"

"You've got this frown," Tara said, "right here." She leaned over and gave Willow a little lick on her forehead, starting just between her brows. "You looked…anxious."

"Oh," Willow said sheepishly, "yeah…well I was just thinking…um, your people…they're- they're going to take good care of you, right? I mean, proper care of you?"

"Good," Willow said quickly, "good, I was just, you know, wondering…" '…if maybe I could tag along and be part of the family too? 'Cause I'm sure what your people want is a strange cat hanging around the place, they wouldn't have any objections at all.'

"They're good people," Tara went on, "I know you haven't really known people like that, but they are, I promise. You don't have to worry. Um, actually…" she hesitated, then plunged on, speaking quickly as if afraid she wouldn't get the words out if the stopped, "do you think maybe there's any chance you might like to-"

"We're home!" Miss Kitty meowed from up ahead. She raced ahead and turned the corner into the garden, disappearing from view. Tara had turned to her at the sound of her voice, and looked back at Willow, undecided.

"Go on," Willow said gently, "you're home." From nearby came the sound of Giles being surprised, then quickly calling for Dawn.

"I…" Tara began, looking back and forth between Willow and the entrance to her garden, "Willow, you've been so wonderful…"

"No need to thank me," Willow said, automatically, then she ducked, not quite able to meet Tara's gaze as she added, "you know I'd do anything for you."

"Tara?" Buffy's voice came from around the corner, then in an undertone: "well she might be somewhere nearby, I mean if Miss Kitty just found her way back, maybe Tara did too."

"I mean," Tara added quickly, embarrassed, "just, walk with me, would you? I don't want to say goodbye, not like this, all rushed…"

"Of course," Willow nodded, smiling broadly to hide her disappointment. Willow walked alongside Tara as she rounded the corner of the driveway, and then sat back and watched as Tara, without meaning to, broke into a run, sprinting the last few meters to her family.

'So this is them,' Willow thought, watching the young blonde scoop up Tara and hug her, whispering to her. The adult female was beside her, reaching around her to rub Tara's stomach tenderly, and was periodically glancing back to share looks with the adult male, whose expression was mid-way between happy and relieved. He had a comforting hand on the shoulder of the other young one, who was cuddling Miss Kitty.

'I want that,' Willow thought sadly to herself, 'family…Tara.' She shook her head. 'Don't be silly, they don't even know me, they wouldn't love me like they do those two. They're family, I'm just some strange cat.' She looked up, seeing movement from the corner of her eye.

Tara had wriggled elegantly out of Buffy's arms, and was walking towards her, with the various humans following. Willow instinctively moved back a step, closer to the corner, then paused as she caught Tara's tear-filled eyes. 'I can't leave her.'

"Willow?" Tara asked, as the humans watched the two cats and exchanged confused glances.

"I'm sorry," Willow said, letting her own eyes fill with moisture, "I want to stay, really I do, but…"

"One of them does," Tara said, moving a step closer. "Actually," her smile turned to a grin, "two, if you include Miss Kitty. She's taken quite a liking to you too, you know."

"I love you," Tara said, "I want you to stay. They're good people, I know they'll love you…but right now, I love you, and I need you."

"Stay with me, then," Tara said softly. Willow stared into her eyes, then, feeling like she was floating, walked forward and rubbed her nose against Tara's.

"Look, she's Tara's friend! Oh that's so adorable!" she exclaimed as Tara gave Willow an affectionate lick on the cheek.

"Well…" he said again, "I…we'll have to check whether she's already got owners, and take her to the vet-"

"Thank you!" Dawn exclaimed, and she and Buffy hugged Giles, Dawn with only one arm as the other was still full of kitten. Joyce meanwhile knelt down in front of the two cats, and gave Tara a pat.

"She's got a collar," she said to Giles, "but it looks old…hey there," she went on to Willow, "how are you? Are you okay?" She held out a hand, waiting patiently while, with Tara watching, Willow gingerly leaned forward and sniffed her fingertips.

"Good girl," Joyce said, as Willow let herself be patted lightly. Willow gave a tentative purr, which became louder as Tara sat beside her and nuzzled against her neck.

"That is so adorable, isn't it Miss Kitty?" Dawn said, crouching down near the two cats.

Tara lay on her favorite rock in the garden, enjoying the sunlight, and watched as two shapes moved stealthily through the piles of leaves, circling each other warily before one pounced, in a blur of black and white, and the two cats wrestled playfully, scattering the leaves everywhere. Her ears pricked up, then relaxed as a creature emerged stealthily from the shrubbery behind her.

"Hi Amy," Tara said, as the rat circled around her rock and stood beneath a low-lying palm frond in front of her. Amy visited once or twice a week, during the day when the people were out at their schools and jobs. On her first visit she had gleefully reported that the remnants of Spike's gang had been chased out of town, and that everything had settled down to normal again. Tara had heaved a sigh of relief at that news–not that she thought it likely Miss Kitty was going to get herself into trouble again. The kitten, though still as playful as ever, had firmly taken to heart Tara's advice of not getting into anything she wasn't sure she could get out of again.

"They're not so bad," Tara shrugged, "there's a cat biscuit just by that flower, if you're hungry. I thought you might come by today."

"Amy!" Willow exclaimed, extricating herself from Miss Kitty's hold and rushing over, with the kitten at her heels.

"Hey Will," the rat smiled, nibbling her biscuit. "Heard you went to the vet. Who'd have thought it, Willow the mighty street cat being taken care of by humans."

"If you dare tell anyone," she hissed, "I swear I'll start following the food chain religiously, missy." Amy cringed, and Tara saw the hint of an amused smirk behind Willow's glare as she hopped up onto her rock and lay down next to her. Tara smiled and leaned across to lay her head across Willow's paws, then began to purr as she felt Willow snuggle up to her and gently lick the back of her head.

"Yay," Willow purred, watching as Amy and Miss Kitty played hide and seek among the bushes. "I'm glad I found you. All of you," she added, "but especially you."

"Of course you found me," Tara smiled, "you said it yourself, remember? You know this town like the back of your paw." She gave Willow's paw a gentle lick for emphasis. "You can find anything."

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Finding Miss Kitty Fantastico

by Chris Cook

Copyright © 2003

alia@netspace.net.au