Category: HUMOR
Disclaimer: let me check ... nope, still don't own them.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: B/A, and the usual pairings from the show
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), Land of Denial, if you have any of my stories, take it; anybody else tell me where it goes
Summary: Uh - none really, I don't know how to explain what came over me
Spoilers: the whole Buffy/Angel-canon, and especially the episode "Smashed" and the previous stories "SHEESH" and "SHEESH TIMES TWO".
Timeline: sets in when Angel drives to SunnydaleFeedback: oh yes, please
Dedication: For Eve, because she begged for a third story, despite I said I wouldn't write one. As you can see, she succeeded.

Angel had known it wouldn't be easy coming back to L.A. with Buffy in tow. He knew his friends weren't going to like it. But not in his wildest dreams he'd expected what was currently happening in the lobby of the Hyperion hotel.

The moment he'd announced he and Buffy were back together, everyone had started to talk. Wesley, Gunn, Fred, Cordelia ... everyone had to voice their opinion, not caring if Angel was interested or not. Buffy on the other hand had listened quietly. For a long time. And somehow Angel had sensed it didn't bode well.

"But ... but," Fred sent Buffy an irritated glance, "He's ... Cordelia and Angel are so right for each other. They are both warriors. He's her soulmate."

The Slayer's eyes narrowed, and her voice was a low hiss, "He is *so* not."

Sensing the tension, Angel stepped between the women, "No bloodshed." He sent Buffy a pleading look, then gazed sternly at Fred and Cordelia.

"Why not?," the blond asked sweetly, not even considering to back down. "I haven't killed anything for a while, or hurt someone - badly - for that matter." She smiled at Cordy, but her eyes were shooting daggers at the brunette.

"As if," Cordelia scoffed, planting her hands at her hips. "I've been working out, just so you know." She bared her teeth to what not even the most oblivious person would call a smile. "Angel's been training me," she added.

Buffy raised both eyebrows, took a menacing step closer, "Really?" Her whole posture, her voice, her expression, everything screamed challenge, "Want to try a Slayer for a change?"

"Stop it," Angel said firmly, planting his whole size and weight between them, "Cordy," he began looking at his friend, "We are friends," he turned to Buffy, "There was never anything between us besides that. I'm not even attracted ...," he trailed off realising his slip, his head whirling back to Cordelia, he sent her an apologetic smile, "Not that I don't think you're attractive, because you are, just not my-"

She held up a hand, cut him off.  "Save it," she said, while Fred looked as if her whole world had just come tumbling down.

"Besides," he ignored her, looked back at Buffy, "I couldn't do anything with her, even if I wanted. The curse ...," he trailed off again, an image of Darla flickering through his mind. Gee, would his sire always haunt him?

"Don't worry," Buffy said to his utter surprise. "I'm okay with Darla and Connor. It doesn't matter. I was with Riley and I certainly slept with him more than once."

"Talking about Riley," Cordelia cut in, all friend-mode now, "How could you? Not that I actually met this Riley-guy, but ... he couldn't be better than Angel."

"Thanks," the vampire flashed her a bright smile. It faded when he saw Buffy glare at him.

"No he wasn't," she said then, looking at him for another second, then turning to Cordelia, "But frankly, this is *so* not the point here. Besides, my private life isn't any of your business. You might be Angel's friend now. You never were mine."

"So true. But this concerns Angel," the brunette insisted, putting a comforting hand on the vampires arm.

Buffy sighed, "Are we there again? Seems I need to beat you up after all." She paused, smiled, while her righthand was clenching and unclenching in a steady rhythm, "Not that it would give me the slightest pleasure, of course."

"Gee," Cordy rolled her eyes, "Will you calm down already. Angel is too dead for me anyway."

"I am?," Angel asked, not able to hide the hurt in his eyes. Too dead, huh? Well, he was dead. But did she need to point it out like this? Buffy had never complained.

"It didn't keep you from hitting on him before as I recall," Buffy replied, ignoring the vampire again.

"That's *so* old. And it was before I know what he was."

"Really?," the Slayer raised a brow, "I always wondered."

"*I* always wondered how it might feel if the women are crazy for you," Wesley mused from where he was leaning at the wall, "Thought it would be exciting, good for you ego, you know." He turned, shot Gunn, who was standing near by, a thoughtful glance, "It's not. Not at all."

"Dead right, English."

"Shut up!," Buffy and Cordelia yelled unison. They were both taking a deep breath, then suddenly grinned sheepishly at each other.

The brunette rolled her eyes, "Men," she scoffed. "My thoughts exactly," Buffy said, tilting her head, "You know," she added, lowering her voice to a whisper, "Gunn is kind of cute. Now that Angel is taken, have you ever thought of ...," her voice trailed off, while the two women were walking towards the courtyard of the hotel.

*

Meanwhile, two driving hours away, in Sunnydale, Spike was facing a completely different and even more dangerous problem.

Ever since the Slayer had forced him to play this little charade, his life was in a constant downward spiral.

"My Spike had been a very bad boy."

He winced when the whip came down on his very naked thighs. "Ow," he yelled, looking at his sire in annoyance. "That hurt."

He was quickly getting tired of being bound to chairs. It had been bad enough to have everyone listen -and laugh - at his poems. They were bad, he admitted that much, but he would never forgive Angel for doing that to him. But sitting bound - and naked - in front of Drusilla was definitely worse.

"It's supposed to hurt," she glared at him, "Bad boys need to be punished. And you, Spike, have been a very bad boy." The whip came down again and the blond vampire groaned. "Doing all those nasty things with the Slayer," she added, before aiming for his knees this time.

Spike suppressed the yell, not wanting to give Dru the satisfaction. It he ever found out who'd sent the damned video to her ...

"Ow," he yelled again, when the whip came down faster, "Dru. Stop it."

"But all those bruised make you look so sexy. All those lovely colours." Her voice became soft, and she was looking at him with awe.

He rolled his eyes, wondering inwardly, why her insanity had ever been attractive to him. "Yeah, well, they might look good, but they certainly don't ... OW. Bloody hell, stop that now."

"Ooooooh," she crooned, trailing a long, red-painted fingernail along his cheek, "Is my Spike hurting now? Poor, poor Spike." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Do you want me to make it all better?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, "Unbound me. Dru this is enough. It's humiliating."

"Unbound you?," she looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "I can't do that. That's part of our little game." She giggled, then suddenly started to sing, "Three little girls were playing in the sun ..."

Spike groaned. He wished he'd never heard the name Sunnydale in his life. He wished Buffy Summers had never crossed his path. He wished ... God, he wished he was dead.

*

"Kind of cute?," Gunn asked the others with a hint of panic in his voice.

"Yeah, well...," Angel began.

"Cute." Wesley seemed to consider that.

"Definitely cute," Fred added, smiling brightly.

"You think," the African-American looked suddenly thoughtful, "Cordy really might ... nah!" He shook his head over his own stupidity even considering this. On the other hand ...

"Well, I'm taken," Angel beamed at his friends, turning towards the stairs. "You've heard the Slayer. So Cordy is your problem now."

"Uhm ...," Gunn stared at his retreating back.

"Angel." Wesley called after him.

Fred only smiled, looking at the both women who were sitting at the fountain in the courtyard, talking like best friends.

Angel didn't look back. He went up the stairs. He was taken. It was all that mattered.

That’s it. No more.

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