Spike and Angel in Toon Town (Spangel; Jessica Rabbit; Betty Boop; Willow)
Title: Spike and Angel in Toon Town
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. The characters of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? are owned by Amblin Entertainment, The Walt Disney Company, and Touchstone Pictures. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, lexa4227
Rating - R (Language)
Pairing - Spike/Angel-implied
Timeline - Angel the Series, Season 5
Summary - Comedy ensues when Spike and Angel get sucked into Toon Town through a portal.
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This came about because my muse needed a boost.
WARNINGS: None really. Just the boys doing what they do best when one of them screws up and won't take the blame.
Word Count: 4,377
**************************
Spike and Angel in Toon Town
How had this happened? Angel wondered as he walked down the cartoon street.
Everywhere he looked there were cartoon trees, sky, grass; the dirt roads even had animated cartoon dust. How did he know that? Spike was right beside him, shuffling his feet. Apparently, it didn’t take much to entertain Spike. The alternate dimension sun theory still held up as well. The bright light didn’t include deadly UV rays that were harmful to vampires.
How did we end up on a set of a cartoon? Angel wondered again.
One minute he and Spike were investigating a rash of disappearances around Universal Studios near Disneyland in Anaheim, California. The next minute, they were transported here, wherever here was.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going mate?” Spike asked beside him.
“Not a clue,” Angel replied. “I think town is this way.”
“Bloody perfect, I’m stuck in an alternate dimension with you and we’re lost,” Spike said.
“We’re not lost. I just don’t know where we are,” Angel said.
“Do you know what you just said? We’re lost!” Spike bit out.
“We’re not lost!” Angel growled.
“Then, where are we, huh?” Spike challenged.
“I don’t know!”
“You know why? We’re lost!” Spike yelled.
“Shut up!” Angel stopped and turned to his childe. “Look, I don’t like this anymore than you do. But, unlike you, I’m trying to figure out a way to get us back home. Either help me or shut up.”
“I liked you better as a puppet,” Spike grumbled.
“I liked you better when you were out of my life,” Angel grumbled.
“If I was, your pathetic life would be boring,” Spike said as a way to cover up his hurt feelings.
“But then, I wouldn’t be stuck in cartoon land, would I?” Angel shot back.
“So, this is my fault?”
“Yes! I’m blaming you. It’s about time you got the blame for something wrong in my life for a change!” Angel declared.
“How is it my fault?” Spike asked.
“How is anything wrong in your life, my fault?”
“I have valid reasons for blaming you for my life, you made me!”
“Well, being stuck here is a valid reason to blame you!”
They walked further down the cartoon road. Spike was on the farthest side of the road as he could get from Angel. After two miles, Spike stopped and looked back the way they came. A few feet away, Angel stopped when he looked over and found Spike missing. He looked back to see the blonde vampire examining both directions.
“What?”
“It doesn’t seem like we’re getting anywhere,” Spike said.
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been on this road for an hour. Don’t you think we should have walked past something?” Spike asked.
“Like what, a filling station?” Angel raised a brow, “In a cartoon world?”
“Even Daffy Duck saw the mirage of a soda fountain stand,” Spike pouted.
“Who’s Daffy Duck?” Angel asked his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Don’t you ever watch TV?” Spike asked sarcastically.
“I watch TV! I watched Passions with you last week!” Angel said defensively.
“Okay, you didn’t so much watch it, as glanced over and complained about how fake the witchcraft and Timmy the doll was,” Spike said.
“It was fake! Willow in her beginning years as a witch did better magic than that show! And Timmy the talking doll? Gimme a break, Spike,” Angel scoffed. “You can suspend belief only so much before it becomes ridiculous.”
The two vampires glared at each other as they stood close together. They ignored the noise of screeching wheels until the sound came to a halt beside them. Angel looked around at the source of the noise and Spike peered around his bulk to see a yellow cartoon cab.
“Get in,” said Benny the Cab.
“A talking car?” Angel asked.
Spike nudged him. “Timmy the talking doll doesn’t sound so bizarre, now does it?”
“A talking doll is a stupid idea,” Angel stated.
“So is the talking undead. Are you getting in or not?” Benny said.
“You know we’re vampires?” Spike asked.
“I’m a toon, not senseless,” Benny replied, annoyed by the idea that they thought so little of him.
The vampires walked around to the doors. They opened by themselves much to Spike’s appreciation and Angel’s annoyance.
“Must be the template to KITT,” Spike said as he got in.
“Who’s Kit?” Angel asked as he looked at the door with a critical eye before he got in the driver’s side.
“KITT . . . Knight Rider?” Spike gave his Sire a sidelong glance. “You need to broaden your horizons, mate.”
“One broadened horizon coming up,” Benny slammed the doors shut and sped off so fast that it knocked Spike and Angel back against the seats.
“We get out of this Spike and I’m going to dust you!” Angel yelled over the visible cartoon wind.
“You’ve tried and failed for years, ponce, can’t see you succeeding now!” Spike yelled back.
When they got into Toon Town, Benny drove slower down the street.
“Where’s the Mayor’s office or police station?” Angel asked.
“This town was owned by Marvin Acme. When he died, he left it to the Toons,” Benny explained. “There is no definite law here.”
“Forget that, where’s the nearest bar?” Spike asked.
“That would be the Ink and Paint Supper Club,” Benny replied and drove towards it.
“Spike, do you think drinking is the best idea right now? We need to figure out how to get back to L.A.,” Angel said.
The cab lurched to a halt in front of the Ink and Paint Club and the doors opened. As soon as Angel and Spike slid out, the doors shut and Benny sped away.
“Cordial bloke wasn’t he?” Spike commented.
“He was a talking cab,” Angel stated blandly.
Spike looked at Angel disinterestedly. “Don’t you find humor in anything?”
“Watching you squirm in chains, strapped to my bed always brings a smile to my face,” Angel grinned.
“Of course it would, ’cause you’re a sadist,” Spike said glibly as he entered the club in front of Angel.
“What you call sadism, I call a pastime, my boy,” Angel said and chuckled as he watched Spike’s spine straighten at the Sire-tone.
Angel followed Spike around the darkened club. There was a stage at the back with a catwalk to the center of the room surrounded by tables. It resembled Lorne’s Caritas only a bit bigger. Spike found a table near the stage and sat down. Angel sat opposite him and a waitress immediately came over.
“What’ll it be, boys?” she asked.
Angel turned away from the stage and stared at her. “You got to be kidding me.”
“I never kid, sugar,” she said as she struck a pose with the waitress tray.
“We’re in Toon Town and you’re surprised by Betty Boop?” Spike asked.
“Well, thanks, honey. Always nice to meet a fan,” she drawled.
“But, she’s black and white!” Angel said gesturing to her.
“And you’re human, we all have issues,” Betty harrumphed. “Are you going to order a drink or not?”
Angel looked at her, deciding whether to tell her that he was not human, but then thought better of it.
"I'll have a Jim Beam, Betty,” Spike said. “He’ll have a Jameson’s Irish Whiskey.”
“We’re champions with souls!” Angel insisted as she left the table.
“I don’t care who you are as long as you tip me before you leave,” she said over her shoulder.
He glared at Spike when he heard the snickering laughter. Angel’s eyes narrowed and he kicked the irritating blonde under the table causing him to jump and growl.
“Ow, wanker! It’s not my fault that you lost your knack for charming women,” Spike said.
“I have no problem charming women. I just want to get out of here and go back home.”
“Where the sun can fry us,” Spike added as his attention was diverted to the stage.
Angel opened his mouth to answer, but followed Spike’s gaze to the stage. The curtains parted revealing a long cartoon leg and then a gorgeous redhead sauntered out onto the stage. Then a bluesy voice broke into the lyrics of I Got It Bad, and That Ain’t Good.
Angel and Spike both leaned forward in their seats and watched the cartoon redhead strut down the catwalk and back. She slowly strolled down the steps at the side of the stage and made a complete circle around their table before stopping in front of them. She bent over the table and lay across the top, propped up on her elbows in front of Angel.
She broke into the song to purr, “You don’t know how hard it is being a woman looking the way I do.”
She was so close that Angel could feel her breath on his cheek, if cartoons had breath to speak of. Her breasts were barely concealed by the strapless bustier and pillowed against the table.
“I’d feel what it’s like, luv . . . but you’re a toon,” Spike gave her a sexy smirk.
She turned her sultry gaze on Spike and licked her lips.
“Spike, don’t tease the cartoon,” Angel said tiredly. Then, asked, “Who are you?”
She looked back at him, “Jessica, you?”
“I’m Angel. The eternal pest over there is Spike.”
Spike’s eyes widened as an idea formed in his mind. He smacked Angel on the shoulder and said, “Hey, maybe you won’t lose your soul if you get with her.”
Angel turned an annoyed expression on his errant childe. “I’m not having sex with a cartoon, Spike. That’s just wrong.”
Spike shrugged. “Don’t know about that, can’t be all bad.”
Jessica moved her head between the two vampires as if she were watching a ping pong match. She pushed herself up off the table and with a roll of her hips, turned and sat in Spike’s lap. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pushed her ample cleavage against his chest.
“I’m not bad,” Jessica pouted as she fingered the collar of his leather duster flirtatiously. “I’m just drawn that way.”
“No arguments here, luv,” Spike replied and hugged her. He glanced over at Angel, “See?”
“Spike, let go of the cartoon and help me figure out how to get back home,” Angel said.
“Don’t you have any fun?” Spike asked as he reluctantly allowed Jessica up to finish her song.
“I just want to get out of here. Now, when you opened the portal --” Angel started to say.
“Me? How come I get the blame for opening the portal?” Spike asked incredulously.
“You were the one that read the book with the passage that sent us here. Now --”
“I read it, sure, but you were the one that translated it. Maybe you got a phrase wrong. Did you ever think of that?” Spike challenged.
“My translating abilities aren’t the issue here,” Angel stated flatly. “It’s your British accent that screwed it up.”
“My accent?” Spike balked. “What’s wrong with my accent? You never have a problem with it when we’re in bed together.”
“You screaming ‘bloody fucking hell, can’t you get any deeper, ponce?’ isn’t the problem, however, it’s a different issue when reading Sumerian,” Angel said.
“And when was the last time you read Sumerian?” Spike challenged.
“Can read it better than you, bleached brain moron,” Angel grumbled.
“Hey! I was an English scholar as a human!” Spike corrected.
“Funny how turning into Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, made you dumber,” Angel smirked which caused Spike to kick him under the table.
Angel’s eyes turned yellow and he dove over the table, knocking Spike to the ground, chair and all. Then, the sounds of fists meeting flesh could be heard coming from that section of tables near the stage.
“You little punk . . . wait ‘til we get out of this!” Angel growled between punches.
“Ooh, I’m so scared, what are you going to do, shackle me to the bed again?” Spike asked. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Quit hitting me!”
“Well then, stop hitting me there!” Angel growled and continued attacking Spike’s abdomen.
“I’ll stop hitting you when you stop choking me! I don’t breathe!” Spike said.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it, not breathing is a perk, just tells me that you’ll be awake through it,” Angel said.
“Well, if you’re going to choke me, trying moving a little to the left, so I can enjoy it more,” Spike suggested.
“Who cares about your pleasure? Maybe I want you to suffer for getting us into this.”
Spike growled and bucked Angel off with a roll of his hips. Then, straddled his waist and started laying on punches of his own.
“It wasn’t me, pillock! It was your translating skills!” Spike yelled.
“Okay, that’s it!” Betty said.
One minute, Spike was pummeling Angel. The next, the tiny black and white cartoon pulled him off his Sire and plunked him down in his chair. Angel glared at him as he got to his feet.
“You,” Betty said, pointing a finger at the brunette, “Sit down and drink your Whiskey. Both of you act like the adults that you are!”
Angel grumbled to himself as he righted his chair and sat down.
“Drink your beverages, watch the show. I expect a big tip before you leave,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Spike scowled at his drink, glared at his Sire across the table and then turned his head to watch the show. When Betty left, he became serious, “So, how do we get back home?”
“I don’t know,” Angel sighed. “I mean where do we find a watcher, or someone who knows these things, among a bunch of cartoon characters?”
Spike gave the dark room a cursory glance. “There should be a watcher. After all, most of them are one-dimensional.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Betty said when she returned and put the check on the table.
Angel looked at her. “You know someone who can get us back home?”
“Sure,” she said, her tone sounded as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Angel picked the check up and looked at it. “Ten dollar tip, based on two dollar drinks?”
“The extra is to pay for the ruckus you caused,” Betty shrugged.
“Okay, fine. A twelve dollar tip if you tell us someone who can get us home,” Angel said as he grudgingly fished his wallet out of his back pocket.
“Last of the big spenders, aren’t you?” When she saw the cash coming out of the billfold, she changed her tune and ducked her head with smile, “There’s a watcher just down the street. Thirteen-thirty Character Drive. He is a bitter man. The show he was drawing for never got picked up.”
“This wanker got a name?” Spike asked.
“Something like Biles, Grog,” she shrugged, “Something like that. Have to watch him. He sits at home drinking Scotch. Has a temper.”
Spike downed the rest of his liquor as he and Angel got to their feet. “Might have noticed, luv, so do we.” Then, he followed his Sire out of the supper club.
Angel and Spike walked down the street to the address Betty Boop mentioned. They climbed the sidewalk stairs to the door and both knocked on it.
“Let me do the talking,” Angel said.
“Why’s it always you doing the talking?” Spike sneered.
“With your luck, you’d have us leaving here in the guise of a sheep or with sheep. There’ll be a general sheep theme somewhere,” Angel said sardonically.
“Hey, that only happened once and Drusilla changed us back,” Spike said defensively.
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Drusilla isn’t here, neither is Willow. So, let me do the talking, okay?” Angel said.
The window opened in what the vampires thought was an upstairs bedroom and a redheaded girl with a cartoon resemblance to Willow called out, “Giles isn’t in, can I help you?”
Both vampires stepped back to look up at her and then exchanged a surprised look. “Giles?” they said in unison.
“Can’t be,” Spike shook his head, “Not the damned Scoobies in cartoon form. The Powers That Be couldn’t be that cruel to us.”
“Alternate dimension, remember? If it is the Scoobies, she might be Willow. If anyone can get us back, it would be Willow,” Angel said softly.
Spike leaned his head back and called towards the window, “Red, is that you?”
“Oh my Goddess, it can’t be! Is that you, Spike, as in non-cartoonish, vampire Spike? I mean, as in the Spike that isn’t a cartoon?” Willow stammered.
“It’s me, Red,” Spike assured her. “The pouf and I got pulled into this dimension through a portal. We’re just trying to get home.”
“Wait right there, I’ll be down in a second,” Willow said and squealed, “I can’t believe this! The rest of the guys will never believe me!” With that, she vanished from the window.
Angel and Spike stepped up to the door to wait for her to open it. “Now listen, Spike, I have a rapport with Willow. She has re-ensouled me twice now. So, let. Me. Do. The talking,” he said each word through clenched teeth.
“I have a rapport with her, too, pillock,” Spike grumbled.
They got into a shoving match just before cartoon Willow threw the door open. They immediately stopped in mid-shove and looked at her.
“Oh wow! Angel as well, both of you, here in Toon Town! You both came through a portal and ended up here?” Willow asked excitedly.
Angel stepped away from Spike. “Yes, Willow and we need to get back. L.A. might be in danger without us.”
“Oh yes, of course,” she clasped her hands in front of her and fidgeting with her fingers. “Just . . . wow!”
Angel and Spike stood in silence, listening to her babble about how strange it was to see the actual vampires on Giles’ doorstep and not the cartoon version. After a few minutes, she seemed to remember their presence and stepped back. They tried to enter, but it looked as if the invisible barrier worked in Toon Town the same way it did back home, blocking their progress over the threshold.
Seeing their dilemma, Willow smacked her forehead at her own oversight. Vampires couldn’t enter a house even in a place like this. And, she forgot that she lived in the townhouse as well. “Oh sorry, sorry, come in, come in.”
They tried again, and this time successfully entered the house. They looked around the foyer. To Spike, it looked like every other English townhouse he’d been in. This version of the watcher was no different than the original version.
“So, Giles hasn’t changed much has he?” Spike commented as he wandered through the rooms on the first floor.
Willow giggled, “No, I don’t think so.”
“We were hit on by a cartoon,” Angel mumbled.
“You met Jessica Rabbit?” Willow giggled even more.
“Her name is Jessica Rabbit?” Spike asked with a raised brow.
“Yeah, she’s married to a cartoonist named Roger Rabbit,” she said.
“That wouldn’t happen to just be a name, would it?” Angel asked.
Willow shook her head. “No, he’s really a rabbit,” she giggled again at the twin eye-rolls.
“Figures a beautiful cartoon vixen being married to a walking, talking version of Thumper,” Spike said sardonically.
Angel looked at Willow, “He does walk and talk right, like on two legs and speaks an understandable language?”
“Oh yes, he walks, talks, even hops when he’s excited about something,” Willow replied.
Spike squeezed his eyes shut against the image that popped up in his head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Angel asked.
“Just trying not to imagine an excited rabbit,” Spike grumbled.
“Why?” Then, it hit Angel what Spike meant, “Oh.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear it. “Willow, can you just get us back home now?”
“Sure, follow me,” Willow said and led them into the living room. Then, added over her shoulder, “Angel can you go upstairs and get my ruby red slippers?”
“You want me to huh? Why?” Angel asked stunned by the request.
Willow giggled, “It seemed appropriate what with doing a spell to get you home.”
Angel was at a loss and stared at Spike. “You’ve never watched TV, have you? Dorothy, Toto, tornado in a black and white . . . voila! Technicolor Wizard of Oz,” Spike growled.
“Huh?”
“Jesus bloody Christ, Judy Garland was in it!” Spike yelled.
“Oh, I know her, met her in Vegas at the Sands once,” Angel nodded.
“I’m going to kill you when we get home. It’s a dusty ending for you when we get out of this soddin’ circus act,” Spike glared at his Sire.
“You should really look into anger management therapy when we get home. That’s not healthy for you,” Angel observed.
Spike growled and launched himself at the elder vampire, knocking them over the back of the couch. Willow hurried around the couch and watched anxiously as they beat on each other.
“Guys! Guys! Hey! I thought you wanted to get home?” Willow asked, trying to break through the sound of punching and snarling.
Angel shoved Spike off him and got to his feet. “I’m going to chain you to the bed when we get home.”
“Like to see you try, old man,” Spike challenged as he picked himself up off the floor.
“Keep this up and you’ll never get home,” Willow interjected.
“What do you want us to do, Willow?” Angel asked.
“I need to pour a circle of sand. That will act as a barrier for the spell. Then you two just step inside. I say the words and you should be back in L.A. in your own dimension,” she explained.
“Fine, just get on with it. One more minute with him in this town and I’ll dust myself,” Spike grumbled.
Angel smirked. “Is it my death day already? If I knew the quickest way to be rid of you was a cartoon universe, I would have opened that book years ago.”
Spike pointed his finger at the other vampire. “A-HA! So, you admit that you’re the one that sent us here!”
“No, bird brain, I admit that you’re the idiot that wrote the translation down wrong and sent us here,” Angel shot back.
“Okay guys, now to say the words and you’ll be out of here and back in your own dimension,” Willow instructed.
Spike and Angel looked down at the floor to see that she had utilized the time they took to argue over who was to blame for their current predicament to draw a circle around them with sand.
Willow disappeared to another room in the house and came back with her spell book. She opened it and thumbed through the spells until she found the appropriate spell.
Glancing up, she asked, “Ready?”
“Yeah,” they echoed.
“Illic haud locus amo domus, Illic haud locus amo domus, Illic haud locus amo domus,” she repeated, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,” Then, she clapped her hands once and they were gone.
**************************
A biker bar in Barstow, California, Night
One minute, they were in a cartoon drawing of an English parlor. The next minute, they were standing in a biker bar in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t enough time to adjust to their surroundings before a biker’s fist was in their line of vision. Angel ducked the punch and delivered one to his opponent’s midsection. Spike grabbed the wrist of his attacker, turned and flipped him over his shoulder, tossing him over the bar and smashing glasses on the way down.
“Cartoon Willow’s one powerful witch,” Spike said over his shoulder as another biker came at him.
“Yeah,” Angel agreed as he punched another biker. Several minutes into the fight, he said, “Spike, I never really wanted you dead back there.”
“I kinda figured that, pouf. Would have been too easy for you,” Spike said, trying to keep half a mind on his own fight.
“Sure, you’re an irritating, annoying, rash, impulsive pain in my ass, but I don’t want you completely gone from this world, or any world,” Angel said between punches.
“That’s good to know, ’cause you’re sending a lot of mixed signals,” Spike replied.
Spike’s adversary got a lucky punch in and managed to hit him in the face, knocking him into a pool table where a group of bikers were minding their own business until Spike physically broke up their game and then they converged on him.
Angel watched as Spike landed on the pool table and then he disappeared in a sea of tattooed bodies.
“Spike!” he yelled.
“Angel!” was yelled back from somewhere in the melee.
Not sparing another look, Angel punched out the guy who was fighting with him. He went over to the pool cue rack, grabbed a stick and started knocking the feet out from under the bodies and then hitting them when they were down until he could see the green felt of the billiard table. There was a biker leaning over Spike with his pool cue raised. Angel put his stick under the man’s chin and yanked back, pulling the biker off of Spike by the throat. He dropped the man to the floor, stick and all. Then, he held out his hand to Spike. The blonde vampire took it gratefully and hopped off the table.
“Let’s get out of here,” Angel suggested.
The vampires ran for the back door before the other patrons in the establishment got the same ideas as their buddies and followed to continue the brawl. Angel and Spike ran down the street until they saw a lone phone booth on the side of the deserted road. They both piled into the booth. Angel picked up the phone and dialed a number while Spike looked out the glass side frame to make sure the bikers weren’t following.
“Hello, Wes?” Angel said, “I need you to come pick us up . . . Yeah, we’re in Barstow, California . . . It’s a long story with a book and a badly translated reference, totally Spike’s fault . . . oof!”
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. The characters of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? are owned by Amblin Entertainment, The Walt Disney Company, and Touchstone Pictures. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, lexa4227
Rating - R (Language)
Pairing - Spike/Angel-implied
Timeline - Angel the Series, Season 5
Summary - Comedy ensues when Spike and Angel get sucked into Toon Town through a portal.
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This came about because my muse needed a boost.
WARNINGS: None really. Just the boys doing what they do best when one of them screws up and won't take the blame.
Word Count: 4,377
**************************
Spike and Angel in Toon Town
How had this happened? Angel wondered as he walked down the cartoon street.
Everywhere he looked there were cartoon trees, sky, grass; the dirt roads even had animated cartoon dust. How did he know that? Spike was right beside him, shuffling his feet. Apparently, it didn’t take much to entertain Spike. The alternate dimension sun theory still held up as well. The bright light didn’t include deadly UV rays that were harmful to vampires.
How did we end up on a set of a cartoon? Angel wondered again.
One minute he and Spike were investigating a rash of disappearances around Universal Studios near Disneyland in Anaheim, California. The next minute, they were transported here, wherever here was.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going mate?” Spike asked beside him.
“Not a clue,” Angel replied. “I think town is this way.”
“Bloody perfect, I’m stuck in an alternate dimension with you and we’re lost,” Spike said.
“We’re not lost. I just don’t know where we are,” Angel said.
“Do you know what you just said? We’re lost!” Spike bit out.
“We’re not lost!” Angel growled.
“Then, where are we, huh?” Spike challenged.
“I don’t know!”
“You know why? We’re lost!” Spike yelled.
“Shut up!” Angel stopped and turned to his childe. “Look, I don’t like this anymore than you do. But, unlike you, I’m trying to figure out a way to get us back home. Either help me or shut up.”
“I liked you better as a puppet,” Spike grumbled.
“I liked you better when you were out of my life,” Angel grumbled.
“If I was, your pathetic life would be boring,” Spike said as a way to cover up his hurt feelings.
“But then, I wouldn’t be stuck in cartoon land, would I?” Angel shot back.
“So, this is my fault?”
“Yes! I’m blaming you. It’s about time you got the blame for something wrong in my life for a change!” Angel declared.
“How is it my fault?” Spike asked.
“How is anything wrong in your life, my fault?”
“I have valid reasons for blaming you for my life, you made me!”
“Well, being stuck here is a valid reason to blame you!”
They walked further down the cartoon road. Spike was on the farthest side of the road as he could get from Angel. After two miles, Spike stopped and looked back the way they came. A few feet away, Angel stopped when he looked over and found Spike missing. He looked back to see the blonde vampire examining both directions.
“What?”
“It doesn’t seem like we’re getting anywhere,” Spike said.
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been on this road for an hour. Don’t you think we should have walked past something?” Spike asked.
“Like what, a filling station?” Angel raised a brow, “In a cartoon world?”
“Even Daffy Duck saw the mirage of a soda fountain stand,” Spike pouted.
“Who’s Daffy Duck?” Angel asked his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Don’t you ever watch TV?” Spike asked sarcastically.
“I watch TV! I watched Passions with you last week!” Angel said defensively.
“Okay, you didn’t so much watch it, as glanced over and complained about how fake the witchcraft and Timmy the doll was,” Spike said.
“It was fake! Willow in her beginning years as a witch did better magic than that show! And Timmy the talking doll? Gimme a break, Spike,” Angel scoffed. “You can suspend belief only so much before it becomes ridiculous.”
The two vampires glared at each other as they stood close together. They ignored the noise of screeching wheels until the sound came to a halt beside them. Angel looked around at the source of the noise and Spike peered around his bulk to see a yellow cartoon cab.
“Get in,” said Benny the Cab.
“A talking car?” Angel asked.
Spike nudged him. “Timmy the talking doll doesn’t sound so bizarre, now does it?”
“A talking doll is a stupid idea,” Angel stated.
“So is the talking undead. Are you getting in or not?” Benny said.
“You know we’re vampires?” Spike asked.
“I’m a toon, not senseless,” Benny replied, annoyed by the idea that they thought so little of him.
The vampires walked around to the doors. They opened by themselves much to Spike’s appreciation and Angel’s annoyance.
“Must be the template to KITT,” Spike said as he got in.
“Who’s Kit?” Angel asked as he looked at the door with a critical eye before he got in the driver’s side.
“KITT . . . Knight Rider?” Spike gave his Sire a sidelong glance. “You need to broaden your horizons, mate.”
“One broadened horizon coming up,” Benny slammed the doors shut and sped off so fast that it knocked Spike and Angel back against the seats.
“We get out of this Spike and I’m going to dust you!” Angel yelled over the visible cartoon wind.
“You’ve tried and failed for years, ponce, can’t see you succeeding now!” Spike yelled back.
When they got into Toon Town, Benny drove slower down the street.
“Where’s the Mayor’s office or police station?” Angel asked.
“This town was owned by Marvin Acme. When he died, he left it to the Toons,” Benny explained. “There is no definite law here.”
“Forget that, where’s the nearest bar?” Spike asked.
“That would be the Ink and Paint Supper Club,” Benny replied and drove towards it.
“Spike, do you think drinking is the best idea right now? We need to figure out how to get back to L.A.,” Angel said.
The cab lurched to a halt in front of the Ink and Paint Club and the doors opened. As soon as Angel and Spike slid out, the doors shut and Benny sped away.
“Cordial bloke wasn’t he?” Spike commented.
“He was a talking cab,” Angel stated blandly.
Spike looked at Angel disinterestedly. “Don’t you find humor in anything?”
“Watching you squirm in chains, strapped to my bed always brings a smile to my face,” Angel grinned.
“Of course it would, ’cause you’re a sadist,” Spike said glibly as he entered the club in front of Angel.
“What you call sadism, I call a pastime, my boy,” Angel said and chuckled as he watched Spike’s spine straighten at the Sire-tone.
Angel followed Spike around the darkened club. There was a stage at the back with a catwalk to the center of the room surrounded by tables. It resembled Lorne’s Caritas only a bit bigger. Spike found a table near the stage and sat down. Angel sat opposite him and a waitress immediately came over.
“What’ll it be, boys?” she asked.
Angel turned away from the stage and stared at her. “You got to be kidding me.”
“I never kid, sugar,” she said as she struck a pose with the waitress tray.
“We’re in Toon Town and you’re surprised by Betty Boop?” Spike asked.
“Well, thanks, honey. Always nice to meet a fan,” she drawled.
“But, she’s black and white!” Angel said gesturing to her.
“And you’re human, we all have issues,” Betty harrumphed. “Are you going to order a drink or not?”
Angel looked at her, deciding whether to tell her that he was not human, but then thought better of it.
"I'll have a Jim Beam, Betty,” Spike said. “He’ll have a Jameson’s Irish Whiskey.”
“We’re champions with souls!” Angel insisted as she left the table.
“I don’t care who you are as long as you tip me before you leave,” she said over her shoulder.
He glared at Spike when he heard the snickering laughter. Angel’s eyes narrowed and he kicked the irritating blonde under the table causing him to jump and growl.
“Ow, wanker! It’s not my fault that you lost your knack for charming women,” Spike said.
“I have no problem charming women. I just want to get out of here and go back home.”
“Where the sun can fry us,” Spike added as his attention was diverted to the stage.
Angel opened his mouth to answer, but followed Spike’s gaze to the stage. The curtains parted revealing a long cartoon leg and then a gorgeous redhead sauntered out onto the stage. Then a bluesy voice broke into the lyrics of I Got It Bad, and That Ain’t Good.
Angel and Spike both leaned forward in their seats and watched the cartoon redhead strut down the catwalk and back. She slowly strolled down the steps at the side of the stage and made a complete circle around their table before stopping in front of them. She bent over the table and lay across the top, propped up on her elbows in front of Angel.
She broke into the song to purr, “You don’t know how hard it is being a woman looking the way I do.”
She was so close that Angel could feel her breath on his cheek, if cartoons had breath to speak of. Her breasts were barely concealed by the strapless bustier and pillowed against the table.
“I’d feel what it’s like, luv . . . but you’re a toon,” Spike gave her a sexy smirk.
She turned her sultry gaze on Spike and licked her lips.
“Spike, don’t tease the cartoon,” Angel said tiredly. Then, asked, “Who are you?”
She looked back at him, “Jessica, you?”
“I’m Angel. The eternal pest over there is Spike.”
Spike’s eyes widened as an idea formed in his mind. He smacked Angel on the shoulder and said, “Hey, maybe you won’t lose your soul if you get with her.”
Angel turned an annoyed expression on his errant childe. “I’m not having sex with a cartoon, Spike. That’s just wrong.”
Spike shrugged. “Don’t know about that, can’t be all bad.”
Jessica moved her head between the two vampires as if she were watching a ping pong match. She pushed herself up off the table and with a roll of her hips, turned and sat in Spike’s lap. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pushed her ample cleavage against his chest.
“I’m not bad,” Jessica pouted as she fingered the collar of his leather duster flirtatiously. “I’m just drawn that way.”
“No arguments here, luv,” Spike replied and hugged her. He glanced over at Angel, “See?”
“Spike, let go of the cartoon and help me figure out how to get back home,” Angel said.
“Don’t you have any fun?” Spike asked as he reluctantly allowed Jessica up to finish her song.
“I just want to get out of here. Now, when you opened the portal --” Angel started to say.
“Me? How come I get the blame for opening the portal?” Spike asked incredulously.
“You were the one that read the book with the passage that sent us here. Now --”
“I read it, sure, but you were the one that translated it. Maybe you got a phrase wrong. Did you ever think of that?” Spike challenged.
“My translating abilities aren’t the issue here,” Angel stated flatly. “It’s your British accent that screwed it up.”
“My accent?” Spike balked. “What’s wrong with my accent? You never have a problem with it when we’re in bed together.”
“You screaming ‘bloody fucking hell, can’t you get any deeper, ponce?’ isn’t the problem, however, it’s a different issue when reading Sumerian,” Angel said.
“And when was the last time you read Sumerian?” Spike challenged.
“Can read it better than you, bleached brain moron,” Angel grumbled.
“Hey! I was an English scholar as a human!” Spike corrected.
“Funny how turning into Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, made you dumber,” Angel smirked which caused Spike to kick him under the table.
Angel’s eyes turned yellow and he dove over the table, knocking Spike to the ground, chair and all. Then, the sounds of fists meeting flesh could be heard coming from that section of tables near the stage.
“You little punk . . . wait ‘til we get out of this!” Angel growled between punches.
“Ooh, I’m so scared, what are you going to do, shackle me to the bed again?” Spike asked. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Quit hitting me!”
“Well then, stop hitting me there!” Angel growled and continued attacking Spike’s abdomen.
“I’ll stop hitting you when you stop choking me! I don’t breathe!” Spike said.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it, not breathing is a perk, just tells me that you’ll be awake through it,” Angel said.
“Well, if you’re going to choke me, trying moving a little to the left, so I can enjoy it more,” Spike suggested.
“Who cares about your pleasure? Maybe I want you to suffer for getting us into this.”
Spike growled and bucked Angel off with a roll of his hips. Then, straddled his waist and started laying on punches of his own.
“It wasn’t me, pillock! It was your translating skills!” Spike yelled.
“Okay, that’s it!” Betty said.
One minute, Spike was pummeling Angel. The next, the tiny black and white cartoon pulled him off his Sire and plunked him down in his chair. Angel glared at him as he got to his feet.
“You,” Betty said, pointing a finger at the brunette, “Sit down and drink your Whiskey. Both of you act like the adults that you are!”
Angel grumbled to himself as he righted his chair and sat down.
“Drink your beverages, watch the show. I expect a big tip before you leave,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Spike scowled at his drink, glared at his Sire across the table and then turned his head to watch the show. When Betty left, he became serious, “So, how do we get back home?”
“I don’t know,” Angel sighed. “I mean where do we find a watcher, or someone who knows these things, among a bunch of cartoon characters?”
Spike gave the dark room a cursory glance. “There should be a watcher. After all, most of them are one-dimensional.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Betty said when she returned and put the check on the table.
Angel looked at her. “You know someone who can get us back home?”
“Sure,” she said, her tone sounded as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Angel picked the check up and looked at it. “Ten dollar tip, based on two dollar drinks?”
“The extra is to pay for the ruckus you caused,” Betty shrugged.
“Okay, fine. A twelve dollar tip if you tell us someone who can get us home,” Angel said as he grudgingly fished his wallet out of his back pocket.
“Last of the big spenders, aren’t you?” When she saw the cash coming out of the billfold, she changed her tune and ducked her head with smile, “There’s a watcher just down the street. Thirteen-thirty Character Drive. He is a bitter man. The show he was drawing for never got picked up.”
“This wanker got a name?” Spike asked.
“Something like Biles, Grog,” she shrugged, “Something like that. Have to watch him. He sits at home drinking Scotch. Has a temper.”
Spike downed the rest of his liquor as he and Angel got to their feet. “Might have noticed, luv, so do we.” Then, he followed his Sire out of the supper club.
Angel and Spike walked down the street to the address Betty Boop mentioned. They climbed the sidewalk stairs to the door and both knocked on it.
“Let me do the talking,” Angel said.
“Why’s it always you doing the talking?” Spike sneered.
“With your luck, you’d have us leaving here in the guise of a sheep or with sheep. There’ll be a general sheep theme somewhere,” Angel said sardonically.
“Hey, that only happened once and Drusilla changed us back,” Spike said defensively.
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Drusilla isn’t here, neither is Willow. So, let me do the talking, okay?” Angel said.
The window opened in what the vampires thought was an upstairs bedroom and a redheaded girl with a cartoon resemblance to Willow called out, “Giles isn’t in, can I help you?”
Both vampires stepped back to look up at her and then exchanged a surprised look. “Giles?” they said in unison.
“Can’t be,” Spike shook his head, “Not the damned Scoobies in cartoon form. The Powers That Be couldn’t be that cruel to us.”
“Alternate dimension, remember? If it is the Scoobies, she might be Willow. If anyone can get us back, it would be Willow,” Angel said softly.
Spike leaned his head back and called towards the window, “Red, is that you?”
“Oh my Goddess, it can’t be! Is that you, Spike, as in non-cartoonish, vampire Spike? I mean, as in the Spike that isn’t a cartoon?” Willow stammered.
“It’s me, Red,” Spike assured her. “The pouf and I got pulled into this dimension through a portal. We’re just trying to get home.”
“Wait right there, I’ll be down in a second,” Willow said and squealed, “I can’t believe this! The rest of the guys will never believe me!” With that, she vanished from the window.
Angel and Spike stepped up to the door to wait for her to open it. “Now listen, Spike, I have a rapport with Willow. She has re-ensouled me twice now. So, let. Me. Do. The talking,” he said each word through clenched teeth.
“I have a rapport with her, too, pillock,” Spike grumbled.
They got into a shoving match just before cartoon Willow threw the door open. They immediately stopped in mid-shove and looked at her.
“Oh wow! Angel as well, both of you, here in Toon Town! You both came through a portal and ended up here?” Willow asked excitedly.
Angel stepped away from Spike. “Yes, Willow and we need to get back. L.A. might be in danger without us.”
“Oh yes, of course,” she clasped her hands in front of her and fidgeting with her fingers. “Just . . . wow!”
Angel and Spike stood in silence, listening to her babble about how strange it was to see the actual vampires on Giles’ doorstep and not the cartoon version. After a few minutes, she seemed to remember their presence and stepped back. They tried to enter, but it looked as if the invisible barrier worked in Toon Town the same way it did back home, blocking their progress over the threshold.
Seeing their dilemma, Willow smacked her forehead at her own oversight. Vampires couldn’t enter a house even in a place like this. And, she forgot that she lived in the townhouse as well. “Oh sorry, sorry, come in, come in.”
They tried again, and this time successfully entered the house. They looked around the foyer. To Spike, it looked like every other English townhouse he’d been in. This version of the watcher was no different than the original version.
“So, Giles hasn’t changed much has he?” Spike commented as he wandered through the rooms on the first floor.
Willow giggled, “No, I don’t think so.”
“We were hit on by a cartoon,” Angel mumbled.
“You met Jessica Rabbit?” Willow giggled even more.
“Her name is Jessica Rabbit?” Spike asked with a raised brow.
“Yeah, she’s married to a cartoonist named Roger Rabbit,” she said.
“That wouldn’t happen to just be a name, would it?” Angel asked.
Willow shook her head. “No, he’s really a rabbit,” she giggled again at the twin eye-rolls.
“Figures a beautiful cartoon vixen being married to a walking, talking version of Thumper,” Spike said sardonically.
Angel looked at Willow, “He does walk and talk right, like on two legs and speaks an understandable language?”
“Oh yes, he walks, talks, even hops when he’s excited about something,” Willow replied.
Spike squeezed his eyes shut against the image that popped up in his head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Angel asked.
“Just trying not to imagine an excited rabbit,” Spike grumbled.
“Why?” Then, it hit Angel what Spike meant, “Oh.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear it. “Willow, can you just get us back home now?”
“Sure, follow me,” Willow said and led them into the living room. Then, added over her shoulder, “Angel can you go upstairs and get my ruby red slippers?”
“You want me to huh? Why?” Angel asked stunned by the request.
Willow giggled, “It seemed appropriate what with doing a spell to get you home.”
Angel was at a loss and stared at Spike. “You’ve never watched TV, have you? Dorothy, Toto, tornado in a black and white . . . voila! Technicolor Wizard of Oz,” Spike growled.
“Huh?”
“Jesus bloody Christ, Judy Garland was in it!” Spike yelled.
“Oh, I know her, met her in Vegas at the Sands once,” Angel nodded.
“I’m going to kill you when we get home. It’s a dusty ending for you when we get out of this soddin’ circus act,” Spike glared at his Sire.
“You should really look into anger management therapy when we get home. That’s not healthy for you,” Angel observed.
Spike growled and launched himself at the elder vampire, knocking them over the back of the couch. Willow hurried around the couch and watched anxiously as they beat on each other.
“Guys! Guys! Hey! I thought you wanted to get home?” Willow asked, trying to break through the sound of punching and snarling.
Angel shoved Spike off him and got to his feet. “I’m going to chain you to the bed when we get home.”
“Like to see you try, old man,” Spike challenged as he picked himself up off the floor.
“Keep this up and you’ll never get home,” Willow interjected.
“What do you want us to do, Willow?” Angel asked.
“I need to pour a circle of sand. That will act as a barrier for the spell. Then you two just step inside. I say the words and you should be back in L.A. in your own dimension,” she explained.
“Fine, just get on with it. One more minute with him in this town and I’ll dust myself,” Spike grumbled.
Angel smirked. “Is it my death day already? If I knew the quickest way to be rid of you was a cartoon universe, I would have opened that book years ago.”
Spike pointed his finger at the other vampire. “A-HA! So, you admit that you’re the one that sent us here!”
“No, bird brain, I admit that you’re the idiot that wrote the translation down wrong and sent us here,” Angel shot back.
“Okay guys, now to say the words and you’ll be out of here and back in your own dimension,” Willow instructed.
Spike and Angel looked down at the floor to see that she had utilized the time they took to argue over who was to blame for their current predicament to draw a circle around them with sand.
Willow disappeared to another room in the house and came back with her spell book. She opened it and thumbed through the spells until she found the appropriate spell.
Glancing up, she asked, “Ready?”
“Yeah,” they echoed.
“Illic haud locus amo domus, Illic haud locus amo domus, Illic haud locus amo domus,” she repeated, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,” Then, she clapped her hands once and they were gone.
**************************
A biker bar in Barstow, California, Night
One minute, they were in a cartoon drawing of an English parlor. The next minute, they were standing in a biker bar in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t enough time to adjust to their surroundings before a biker’s fist was in their line of vision. Angel ducked the punch and delivered one to his opponent’s midsection. Spike grabbed the wrist of his attacker, turned and flipped him over his shoulder, tossing him over the bar and smashing glasses on the way down.
“Cartoon Willow’s one powerful witch,” Spike said over his shoulder as another biker came at him.
“Yeah,” Angel agreed as he punched another biker. Several minutes into the fight, he said, “Spike, I never really wanted you dead back there.”
“I kinda figured that, pouf. Would have been too easy for you,” Spike said, trying to keep half a mind on his own fight.
“Sure, you’re an irritating, annoying, rash, impulsive pain in my ass, but I don’t want you completely gone from this world, or any world,” Angel said between punches.
“That’s good to know, ’cause you’re sending a lot of mixed signals,” Spike replied.
Spike’s adversary got a lucky punch in and managed to hit him in the face, knocking him into a pool table where a group of bikers were minding their own business until Spike physically broke up their game and then they converged on him.
Angel watched as Spike landed on the pool table and then he disappeared in a sea of tattooed bodies.
“Spike!” he yelled.
“Angel!” was yelled back from somewhere in the melee.
Not sparing another look, Angel punched out the guy who was fighting with him. He went over to the pool cue rack, grabbed a stick and started knocking the feet out from under the bodies and then hitting them when they were down until he could see the green felt of the billiard table. There was a biker leaning over Spike with his pool cue raised. Angel put his stick under the man’s chin and yanked back, pulling the biker off of Spike by the throat. He dropped the man to the floor, stick and all. Then, he held out his hand to Spike. The blonde vampire took it gratefully and hopped off the table.
“Let’s get out of here,” Angel suggested.
The vampires ran for the back door before the other patrons in the establishment got the same ideas as their buddies and followed to continue the brawl. Angel and Spike ran down the street until they saw a lone phone booth on the side of the deserted road. They both piled into the booth. Angel picked up the phone and dialed a number while Spike looked out the glass side frame to make sure the bikers weren’t following.
“Hello, Wes?” Angel said, “I need you to come pick us up . . . Yeah, we’re in Barstow, California . . . It’s a long story with a book and a badly translated reference, totally Spike’s fault . . . oof!”