A/N: Set a few years after season 7, ignoring any AtS spoilers and such. A slightly unconventional pairing. Don't take it seriously folks; this is just for laughs.

Buffy Anne Summers was perfectly happy. Why shouldn't she be? The Hellmouth in Sunnydale was closed for good, and with all those Slayers around to guard the one in Cleveland, she could finally live a normal life. She'd managed to finish college herself, and even scrounged up enough money to send Dawn off just a year ago. She'd found a well-paying steady job not involving fast food in any way, shape or form, and she had a wonderful little top-floor apartment on the outskirts of LA, well within taxi distance to her closest friends. And Giles was but a phone call away.

What more could she ask for?

***

"Buffy needs a guy in her life," Xander announced, plopping onto the couch, beer in hand. "Right, Will?"

The redheaded witch shrugged. "Not necessarily a guy," she said with a smile, "but I know what you mean. She needs a someone."

Xander nodded. "Right. A significant other. Best if it was someone she knew. Buff's not so much for making new relationships work these days."

They sat there for a moment in silence.

"You wanna call or should I?"

***

Ding-DONG!

With a growl that rivaled that of the creatures she was sworn to slay, Buffy disentangled herself from the covers, quickly stuffing the toy in the pile of sheets.

Ding-DONG!

"Coming!" she yelled, pulling on her discarded pajamas.

Padding across the cold wooden floor to the door, the Slayer grumbled non-stop under her breath. Who the heck was stupid enough to knock on her door in the middle of the night? Didn't they know what she was going to do to them for pulling her out of her warm, cozy bed?

She swung the door open. And her jaw dropped in shock.

Tall, dark and handsome. The king of brooding, dressed in his usual black wool overcoat and slathered with copious amounts of hair gel.

"Hey, Buffy. Mind if I come in?"

The Slayer managed to close her mouth. "Uh, sure, Angel. Come on in."

She led the way to her clean kitchen. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Hot chocolate?"

Her ex shook his head.

Buffy shrugged and fixed herself a cup of Java. Taking a sip, she gagged and dumped it in the sink.

"So, what's up? What demon do you need help killing?"

Angel shook his head.

"So…no demon. Apocalypse then?"

He shook his head again.

Buffy blinked. "So, what? You couldn't have just stopped by for a cuppa. 'Cause you didn't want one."

Angel gave her a brooding, soulful look and opened his mouth to speak.

The Slayer grinned. "How many times have you been practicing that look in front of the mirr—uh…never mind. Do carry on."

Her first boyfriend gave what looked very much like a glare in her general direction before continuing.

"Is the cookie dough baked yet?"

The coffee cup smashed on the counter.

"What?! Is that why you came knocking on my door in the middle of the night? To ask me out?"

During this mini-tirade, the Slayer had gotten up and begun to advance on the hapless vampire. He was being backed up against the kitchen sink—right by Buffy's collection of shiny metallic utensils.

"I-I wanted to make you happy, that's all."

Wrong choice of words.

"Happy? Happy? You left me because you supposedly wanted me to have a normal, happy life. How is this going to be normal or happy?"

"Uh…"

Now she grabbed a fork and jabbed it in his general direction as she continued. "If I wanted normal, I'd go crawling back to Riley. And for your information, I. Already." Each of her words was punctuated by a jab. "Have. Someone. To. Enjoy. Me!"

Thunk.

The fork was driven two inches into the plaster wall.

The Slayer smoothed back her hair. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed."

***

Willow hung up the phone, a grim expression on her face.

"No go."

Xander just shrugged. "We still have another chance."

***

Buffy reached for her keys. She'd just inserted the right one when she heard a noise coming from inside the apartment.

Carefully slipping out a switchblade from her boot (she'd meant to return it to Xander eventually), the Slayer threw open the door—

—and almost collided with a tall, broad-shouldered man in camouflage. Still farm-fresh, an endearing smile on his face, his form silhouetted by the brilliant sunshine pouring from the ceiling.

"Woah," he said, taking a step back and slowly raising his hands. "Hi, Buffy."

"What's up?" the Slayer demanded, not lowering the sharp implement. "Do you need my help with tracking again? Some other demon I can't kill so that you can dissect them back at the secret lab?"

"Secret lab?"

"You know what I'm talking about. I bet your wife's there now, with those other secret commando people, doing secr—"

"Buffy, we divorced last year."

"Oh." The Slayer looked embarrassed for a moment. "…Hey, why's it so bright in here?" She squinted up at the ceiling. "I don't remember a skylight."

Agent Finn cringed. Maybe that hadn't been the smartest idea…

"You knocked a hole in my ceiling?"

The knife was suddenly much closer than was comfortable.

"Do you have any idea how much the rent on this place is? Do you have any idea how much my landlady is going to kill me?"

The knife was now only inches away.

"Buffy," Riley managed to say, pushing the knife away very gingerly. "Sorry about that, but I have more important things to talk to you about."

The Slayer momentarily paused in her mission to make shish-kebob commando in the living room and looked up expectantly.

"Well…I was wondering…would you like to have a cup of coffee?"

Thunk.

The knife made a gouge very much like that of the fork in the kitchen that Buffy still hadn't managed to dislodge.

"You came to ask me out? And you figured the best way to do that would be by destroying my house?"

"But…I…I love you, Buffy! I'll-I'll do whatever you say!"

The Slayer rolled her eyes in disgust. "If I wanted the love-sick puppy act, I'd never have broken up with Spike. Now get out of what's left of my apartment!"

***

Xander replaced the receiver.

"No luck?"

He shook his head, dejected. "And that was our last chance, Will."

But Willow had a thoughtful look on her face.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

***

Bang. BANG!

"Oi! Open up, Slayer!"

Buffy frowned, a slice of buttered toast halfway to her mouth. She didn't know what exactly she'd been expecting with the events of the past two days, but she certainly hadn't been expecting to hear this particular voice. She stood, coffee still in hand.

"Bloody hell! Slayer, I know you're in there!"

Getting more and more curious—not to mention more and more confused—, Buffy cautiously eased open the door.

A man with hair so bright that it could render people blind stared back at her. One with cheekbones that could cut through solid steel.

"Spike?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. Funny thing—"

The brimming cup of hot coffee hurtling at his very bleached head cut him off quite effectively.

"I'm sick and tired of all you people just waltzing into my personal space. I don't know why you're here…or why you're alive for that matter…and I don't really care. Now get out of my apartment!"

Spike shook off the momentary confusion. "Uh, I was just—"

"What, you were going to rag on me for that whole 'I love you' thing? Were you going to ask me out like those other two dolts? And-and besides, I wasn't the one who told me I was lying last time, so there!"

She paused to take a deep breath. "And what the hell are you doing here in the first place? Why aren't you dead?"

"Uh…that's what I was getting at, love. I kind of woke up a few hours ago in Red's living room, of all places. She said you were here."

"Oh." Now she felt like an idiot. "Uh, sorry for the coffee. It's just that all my ex's are showing up every freaking day this week, trying to ask me out. I just assumed…yeah. Come in. And, sorry. Again. And remind me to kill Willow."

She reached for her handy broom and dustpan, and within minutes the living room was all spick-and-span.

"So…"

The Slayer's head snapped up. "So? So what?"

"You want to go have a drink sometime?"

For the third time that week, the neighbors made good use of their earplugs and tried to ignore the tines and blades of kitchen utensils sticking out of their papered walls.

***

Buffy sighed, clicking her bedroom door shut.

"Stupid guys."

Changing for bed, she buried herself under the covers, snuggling up to her significant other.

"What a pathetic bunch. Thinking that I'd ever want any of them back. All they can think about is asking me out. I bet all they want is the sex."

The Slayer clicked off the bedside lamp.

"Oh sure, they all said they loved me. Which is why they all ended up leaving me in the end, which happened to be after the sex hit a decline. But you—"

She snuggled more deeply into her ever-faithful lover.

"—You would never leave me. In all these years, you're the only one that's never left. I can tell you everything and not worry that you're going to judge me, like those guys. You know everything there is to know about me, and you still haven't left."

The Slayer sighed contentedly, a smile blossoming on her face.

"I love you, Mr. Gordo."

A/N: This idea came from a crazy conversation I had with a certain Shadow Flange (Go read her latest fic! It's BtVS!). Yes, there was not much plot. And yes, the little plot there was has been ravaged by plot holes. But I just had to get this out.

It was going to be a parody. It was supposed to be funny. But mostly it ended up a little more disgusting than I usually write my fics.

By the way…this is the first of a trilogy…but only if people aren't completely disgusted. And the other two chapters don't have the same pairing, I swear. Please give me feedback!