It's An Adventure

Spike moaned, coming to. He pulled his duster from beneath him and laid the tails across his legs, letting the damp sink through his jeans. He focused on the tares and smears of god only knew *what* fouling his most treasured possession. He ignored the pain in, and the lump on, his head. "Ah, sod it all! Would you *look* at my coat?"

Angel grunted, sitting up and holding his head. "Your *coat*? What about my hair?" He ran his hands over it; they came away sticky with *slime*. He shuddered, wiping his hands on Spike's jeans. He looked down at his pants, torn and covered in filth. "Oh, shit! Look at me!" He decided not to look at his leather jacket; he didn't want to know.

"Yer jacket is torn to shreds, Angel." Spike told him. "Cheap leather. Must be from this decade."

Angel groaned, still not looking, and sure Spike was exaggerating. The brat.

Spike looked around. It was dark, damp, smelly, and piled high with junk and rotting garbage; Bleathvore din for sure. They were in a cage, their backs resting against what seemed to be old carpet nailed over even older wood nailed together in a V and turned upside down making a back rest, if not a whole chair. The damp, mucky floor served as the seat. A rather large cage, considering stingy, money-grubbing traders were holding them. Bleathvores were *not* known for their penchant for extras. Spike was sure the cage must have already been here. He reached out to grab one of the bars of the cage that held them.

ZAP!

"Shit!" Spike pulled his hand back quickly, sucking at his electrocuted fingers. "I *hate* it when old time demons mess around with technology." He muttered around his burnt fingers. "They don't know what they're *doing*! One of 'em is gonna take a piss and 'zap' we're gonna be fried!"

Angel was quite, taking in their surroundings. He could hear the demons, not more than a hundred yards away, chattering in an incomprehensible-to him, at least-language. He studied each pile of junk surrounding them. He nudged Spike with his elbow, and pointed. "*That's* what we want."

"An old wig? Nice. That's just what I would have *thought* could save the slayer."

Angel ignored the snide comment. "See the clay bowl? With the Je'dellian writings?"

Spike looked at the junk heap. "Yes, I do. I see *lots* of old bowls. That must be the cookware and wig pile. And old trouser pile. Oh, yes, and what's that? Plain ole rotten *garbage*! No! Wait! Have I spied with my little eye an old tin of *tuna*? Have I?"

"You're not helping Spike."

"No. I'm *not* helping, am I? And why is that, do you suppose? Maybe because I'm trapped in an electrified cage being held by bloody Bleathvores in the bloody bowels of Los Angels with my bloody pouf of a Sire? Do you think that could bloody well be the cause of me not *helping*? Eh? Do ya?"

"Could be, but I doubt it. I think you're just ornery."

"Angel?" Spike moved closer to his Sire.

"What?" Angel wrapped his arm around his childe and pulled him closer, unconsciously offering comfort to his bratty childe.

"Can you even begin to *imagine* how much Bleathvores *don't* know about electricity?" Spike asked, leaning his head against Angel's shoulder, unconcerned about what it looked like or what it meant. He would not deny that sometimes his big pouf of a Sire was, well, *comforting* to have around. ouldould never *admit* it, but he wouldn't deny it. No matter how much he hated him.

"We'll be fine, Spike." Angel told him, keeping his eye on the Je'dellian bowl.

A tentacle was thrust into the cage, catching Spike across the mouth, and pulling him towards the back of the cage. He opened wide and bit down. His reward was a face full of venom and a piece of Bleathvore. He spit out the Bleathvore before he passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They reaare are a very interesting group. Been around for centuries. Traders and collectors, really, nothing more. Always looking for a deal. Amazing that they haven't been eradicated, seeing as how they haven't a very well developed intellect."

"You think? Cockroaches don't seem to do well on the SAT's but we still have *those* Wes."

Wesley smiled, placing the papers Giles had faxed to them on the table. "You are right, Cordelia. Sometimes intellect is not needed for survival."

Xander came into the room. "What's up?"

"Case in point!" Cordy offered, holding out her hand towards Xander.

Wesley smiled at Xander. "All rested up?"

Xander blushed and smiled. "Yes. So? Where are they? They check in yet? Can I get something to eat?"

"Don't know. No. And yes, we have some Chinese food in the kitchen. Sit down and I'll bring it out. You and Spike, huh? What's up with that? I dump you and you can never have another woman again? Not even a human?" Cordy asked. The idea pleased her. She grinned to herself as she went into the kitchen to retrieve the boxes of left over food.

Xander sat down next to Wesley. "How long have they been gone?"

"A few hours. I'm sure everything is fine."

Xander smiled at Cordelia once she placed a tray of take-out boxes and a soda in front of him. He began to eat. "How long did they say they'd be gone?"

Cordy sat down and crossed her legs. "Angel never says. Who's to know?"

"Where'd they say they were going?" Xander asked, slurping up hot and spicy noodles.

"Oh well, into the tunnels." Wesley offered.

Xander nodded. "Yeah. "*Where* into the tunnels? *What* tunnels?"

Wesley shuffled through the papers on the coffee table.

Xander couldn't believe Angel had purchased a *coffee table* before a TV.

"Well! It looks like Angel took the information with him. Never mind. I'm sure they're perfectly fine."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike came to with a pain-filled moan. His face felt sore and five sizes too big. He reached his hands up, discovering it was only his lips. And they were only *two* sizes too big. Maybe three. They throbbed with pain from the Bleathvore venom and his teeth *ached*. He looked over at Angel, taking in the sucker shaped marks covering his face. The welts were small, swollen and bright red. Spike giggled, wincing as his lips stretched.

Angel quickly turned his head to look at his childe. "Are you okay?"

"Doe'no. Do I look as bad as you?" Spike reached out a hand to run over Angel's marred face. "Hope I don't. 'Cause you look bloody awful, Sire."

Angel grunted and pushed Spike's hand away. "I'm sure you look *much* worse than I do. *I* don't look like Barbara Hershey in BEACHES."

Spike's hands flew back to his lips. "Hell! *That* big?" He nudged his Sire. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What's the plan? Get us out of here!" He twisted around, looking for the Bleathvores. "Where the bloody hell have they gone off to?" Spike turned back to Angel. "So do it. Make with the batvamp stuff and get us *out* of here."

Angel smiled at Spike. "And you mocked my so called 'batvamp stuff'. *Now* you want me to sprout wings and fly us out of here." Angel shook his head.

"Angel!" Spike hissed. "This is *no* time to find your long lost humor! Get us *out* of here! Use the batphone at least. Call for backup!"

Angel shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry. My batphone can't seem to penetrate these tunnels."

"Damn you, Si-"Spike stopped talking and froze when he heard the shuffling of approaching Bleathvores. Five of the tentacled creatures stood in front the cage looking at them and pointing. "How's your Bleathvore? Mine's a bit rusty."

"Never learned any."

Spike sighed and began to listen carefully. "I think they think we're humans."

Bleathvore 1: "Not human. Vampire."

Bleathvore 2: "*Vampires*? Nasty things. Parasites."

Bleathvore 3: "Maybe we could sell or trade them?"

Bleathvore 4: "Right! What would want a *vampire*? They bite! Suck blood!"

Bleathvore 1: "I could offer it to my mother-in-law. As a present."

All Bleathvores: Laughter.

Bleathvore 5: "We have to do *something* with them!" He looked over at 1. "I *told* you not to come to this city! But *no*! *You* want to go to Disneyland!" He pointed his bandaged tentacle towards Spike. "The shiny-headed one *bit* me! I say we cut their heads off!"

Spike looked at Angel. "I think that one *likes* me. Thinks I'm 'shiny'."

Bleathvore 3: "Oh come! Something out there must want a pair of vampires, do you not think? Maybe they are a breeding pair? Someone could set up a nice tank. Conversation piece for the gathering room. I would take them, but my kids always let the pets die. They are kind of cute, in a human-looking kind of way, do you not think so?"

Bleathvore "No "No I do *not*. I think they are ugly and they *bite*. Mother-in-law-gift, perhaps. Anything else, no! We could not sell *or* trade them, I bet. And I hear they blow up in the sun."

Bleathvore 4: "I have heard that also. We would have to keep them watered down. And feed them *blood*. Where would we get blood?" He looked over at Angel, studying his hair. "And covered with some type of vampire jelly. Too much trouble."

Spike looked at Angel. "That one doesn't like your hair."

Angel grunted, scowling. "Well, who *would*? It's mussed!"

Bleathvore 2: "The dark one looks mean."

Bleathvore 5: "That is probably just camouflage. See how the shiny one looks sweet and pretty? That is the one that bit me. All I did was *touch* him, to get a better look. The dark one is probably docile. Tamable, even. Still, we should cut off their heads. Besides, I have heard they do not breed."

All other Bleathvores: "Gasp!"

Bleathvore 5: "It is true. They do not even lay eggs. They do not breed as normal creatures should. We should cut off their heads."

Spike cocked his head. "I think they want to breed us." He looked at Angel. "If so, *you* get pregnant."

Bleathvore 3: "It would be a waste to cut off their heads, unless there is a market for vampire heads. Is there? I think we should go above and inquire. It would be wrong not to even try to get something for them."

"I think they're talking about your hair again. Or your head. I can't tell. They must be speaking in some kind of slang. Can't be pure Bleathvore!"

Bleathvore 1: "I know a human-"

Bleathvore 5: "Oh you! You *always* know a human, do you not? Like the human that was to obtain the vervellian case for us. At a *reasonable* price." He rolled four eyes at his companion. "You and your human connections suck."

Bleathvore 1: "You would not know a good price if it mated with your nether regions. I am sure I can get *something* for this pair of vampires. I challenge you!"

"I think they want to fight over me. Or over who has to take you." Spike told Angel.

"Spike?" Angel closed his eyes and leaned against his makeshift backrest.

"Huh?"

Angel grabbed the back of Spike's torn duster, pulling him down and next to him. "Just sit down and shut up, okay? Let's just wait and see what's going to happen."

Spike turned truly horrified eyes upon his Sire. "Just *wait* and see?"

Angel didn't open his eyes as he threw his arm around his childe and pulled him close. "Yeah. Wait."

Spike whimpered and burrowed closer to Angel's side.

Bleathvore 5: "You challenge me? You dare to?"

Bleathvore 1: "Yes! I will go above and I will find a trade or a buyer for them."

Bleathvore 5: "And if you do not?"

Bleathvore 1: "Then you may have my mother in law."

All Bleathvores: Laughter.

Bleathvore 5: "Very amusing. I shall have your mate. And your daughter. The pretty one."

Bleathvore 1: "Fair enough. Rest, brothers, and I shall return."

The group left the cage. 1 to go make a deal, the others to drink and gamble away from the treasures and the vampires.

"Angel?"

"What is it, Spike?"

"My legs are cramping. Can't we try and lift the cage over us? Doesn't have bars on the bottom. We'll just grab hold and lift it up."

"It's electrified, Spike. And probably very heavy."

"Yeah? So?"

Angel sighed. "Not yet, Spike. Maybe later."

"Promise?"

"I promise."