Author's Note: This was originally going to be a one-shot, but it got more complicated than I expected, so I split it into multiple parts. It is a sequel of sorts to "These Dreams", which you don't really have to read to understand this, although it might be better if you did.

And this time I will warn you: This story contains both heterosexual and homosexual relationships. (The summary probably gives you a hint.) Also, as always, any suggestions and/or other constructive criticisms would be greatly appreciated. All right, I'll stop rambling now, on to the story! Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

"Open wide, Mistoffelees. I don't see why you're afraid of a little medicine..."

The cat in question was currently lying on Jennyanydots' bed and resisting with all his might as she tried to give him something to cure his ailments. "Jenny," he began patiently, but with an uptight air, "you are trying to force a mixture of catnip and alcohol down my throat. I will not take well to it. I do not like it."

"Well, do you want to soothe your aching limbs or not?" Jennyanydots said, with equal patience, as she gently touched the spoon to the tom's closed lips. "This will help the pain."

"There is no pain!" Mistoffelees said quickly, and suddenly howled as he sat up in the bed and his back protested by shooting a large surge of pain through his entire body. "R-r-r-really," he chattered through the hurt, clutching his left arm, which had flared up a bit more than his right.

"I'll believe that after you take your medicine," said Jenny, setting the spoon down and putting her hands on her hips. "That spell really hurt you, didn't it?"

"What are you talking about? I'm completely unharmed," said Mistoffelees, trying to smile, though he couldn't quite manage it. "Jenny, really. If I get alcohol in my system, then my magic will go out of control. I can barely manage it as it is; if I get ... drugged ... then I might as well kiss my self-restraint goodbye."

"It seems that self-restraint wasn't something you had much of to begin with," remarked Jenny, as she habitually stirred the mixture in the medicine cup. "I've treated magical cats before, Misto. Tantomile and Coricopat had to come by here occasionally, you know. And while they're certainly not as gifted in magic as you are, they did teach me a thing or two about dealing with backfired spells."

Mistoffelees felt his white face go slightly pink. "It - it was nothing," he said automatically, wincing as his aching limbs argued violently with his words. "All I was trying to do was fix the front gate," he said, feeling a need to explain. "The thunderstorm last week had destroyed it, and I got about halfway before — well —" he shifted uncomfortably. "I tried to use a bit of metal to patch it up, and it reflected the spell onto me." He paused, remembering the agony of the magic, before he had managed to control it. "I must remember to use a different type of magic for reflective surfaces."

"If you don't take your much needed medicine now," said Jenny firmly, as she again picked it up, "then I can guarantee that you won't be doing magic for quite a long time."

Mistoffelees paled. Jenny had found his weakness — he couldn't imagine surviving without magic. It wasn't that he liked to show off; quite the opposite, in fact. It was just that magic had become such an integral part of his life that to have to go without using it, even for a finite period of time, was now unthinkable. If he needed medicine to continue improving his skill in being The Original Conjuring Cat, then so be it.

"All right," the small tom said resignedly, leaning back on the bed. "But make it quick."

"So many pretty colors," Mistoffelees murmured, sitting on top of the tire in the junkyard. It was late afternoon, so many Jellicles were congregated in the area, but no one had yet joined the tom, which was fine by him. He preferred to wait out the medicine lull alone.

Currently the small black cat had his arms stretched out in front of him, holding his paws in front of his face. He traced the lines of his claws and fur, seeing many pinks and blues and greens slithering out of the strands. "Pretty colors," he murmured again, as his hands begin to shake. "I watch the box with moving pictures."

Misto groaned and laid on his back. How much medicine did Jenny give me? his rational mind asked before his irrational mind took over again. "I like cheese," Mistoffelees muttered, looking up into the darkening sky, as sunset neared. "Cheese is a human food. I do not like cheese. I like pickles. Wait. Pickles are human food too..."

At this Misto sat up and pointed a paw in the air, declaring triumphantly, "I like chicken!"

Fortunately, no other cats heard him, else he would have been the subject of much pointing and giggling, especially from his sister Victoria. This isolation hit Mistoffelees hard, however, and he laid back down, dejected. "Why was no one else around to hear my glorious revelation?" he asked nobody in particular, eyes lolling about in his head. "I have discovered the Ultimate Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything and it's 42. Pity I don't know what the Question to the Answer is. Purple elephants wearing hats are flying above me."

I'm not well, said his rational mind to himself, taking over again. It was like there were two separate cats in his mind that were fighting for control of his body — another effect of the drug. Why don't I use magic to sober up? suggested his rational side, before once again succumbing to the irrational. Fuchsia is a nice color. But it sounds like a sneeze.

Yet Mistoffelees had to admit to himself that his rational side had a point. If he could gain control of his magic, then he would be able to bring himself down from this sickening high. But I like being high! shouted his irrational side. So many observations to make! Tiny spiders are chewing on my brain.

No! shouted his rational side, and Mistoffelees clutched his paws to his head. Cure yourself, Mistoffelees, use magic to get away from this! Being hung over invariably leads to disaster, look at Gus...

At this Mistoffelees' mind brought up a past occurrence: an image of Gus downing his fourth liquor shot before going onstage, resulting in his falling off said stage and crashing into the orchestra conductors' stand, leading to the entire orchestras' stands falling over like dominoes, which then hit the first flute and forced it into the third trumpet, which toppled into the first tuba, which jammed onto the piano players' head, who then banged the conductor on the cranium with said tuba, and sent him to the hospital with a concussion.

Wait a minute, said Mistoffelees' rational side again. I never actually saw that. That never happened.

Imagination is more important than knowledge, said his irrational side in a singsong voice.

That settles it! screamed the tom's rational mind in response, and he felt himself standing. I'm casting a spell to sober myself up and no irrationality is going to stop me!

You need counseling, said his irrational side thoughtfully.

Mistoffelees brought his paws over his head, and a stream of words in a language known only to ancient magical cats flowed from his lips. A ball of energy slowly began to take form in the midst of his paws, a light that gradually grew from a soft pink to a blinding white. Mistoffelees let the chant continue, the glowing sphere growing bigger and bigger by the second. When it was big enough he would be able to submerge his body in it (Hey, I bet it'll feel like a cold shower! chirped his irrational side) and the intoxicating effects of Jenny's medicine would finally wear off. The magical cat felt the flow of words nearing its end. Closer ... closer ... almost there...

GUMMI BEARS! shrieked his irrational mind suddenly. GUMMI BEARS ARE CLIMBING THE TIRE SO THEY CAN EAT MY ORGANS AND CHEW MY EYEBALLS FOR DESSERT!

Mistoffelees yelled and fell backward instinctively. The spell shot from his hands and across the junkyard, but Mistoffelees missed the rest because he suddenly found himself in mid-flight, having fallen off the tire. Fortunately, the alcohol hadn't managed to affect his reflexes too greatly, and he twisted his body in midair, landing on his feet. Just as every cat should, thought his rational mind triumphantly.

Then Misto paled. What have I done? he thought, racing toward where he had seen the spell shoot away (he was still quite unsteady on his paws, however). I lost control! It could have hit someone, or damaged something, or —

Mistoffelees rounded a corner and stopped. In front of him, still smoldering, was the gate that he had recently tried to patch. The spell had blown a large, circular hole in a repaired section of the fence, and the wood was still slightly on fire.

Oh, great, moaned Mistoffelees, More repairs to do.

He was about to pad over to the area and blow out the fire as he would a match, but a small gasp alerted him that he was not alone. Turning to the side slightly, the magician eyes widened as he saw, half-submerged in a pile of wreckage —

"Skimbleshanks!" Misto cried, and suddenly had to fight back an overwhelming surge of emotion, the meaning of which he was unsure. Instead he ran over to the orange tabby and quickly pulled him out of the pile. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm — fine," the tom said shakily, dusting off his vest. "Just a little — jarred. That spell — it barely missed me."

Mistoffelees felt an enormous guilt wash over him — something that could be felt even in his intoxicated state. "Skimble, I'm — I'm so sorry," he mumbled, bowing his head shamefully. "I didn't mean to —"

"Hey, it's okay," the Railway Cat said with a friendly smile, putting a paw on the magician's shoulder. Mistoffelees looked up, noticeably shaking. "It was an accident," Skimble reasoned, looking into the younger tom's eyes. "Everyone's all right. And I'm sure that spell wouldn't have killed me."

"Um, no, just — made you feel like — like you had just been hit by a jet of cold water," said Mistoffelees shamefacedly.

Skimble had to laugh. "Glad I missed that, then." The Railway Cat was still staring into Mistoffelees' eyes, noticing something unusual about them. "Mistoffelees, your pupils are dilated. Why are you —"

Suddenly Misto leapt backward, looking wildly above the two of them. "GIANT RAPTORS FROM PLUTO!" he shouted, pointing upward (Skimble looked and saw nothing), before suddenly collapsing onto the ground, beginning to snore gently.

Skimbleshanks stared at him, noting his sudden mood change and slurred speech, and something clicked in his mind.

"Oh, no," he muttered, crouching down next to the magician. "My Jenny gave you some of her medicine, didn't she?"