Title:Me, You, Us

Author:Flurblewig

Pairing:Angel/Buffy/Spike

Rating/Warnings:PG13

Timeline/Spoilers:Alternative ending to 'The Girl In Question'

Genre:Fluff/Humour

Length:1,023 words

Disclaimer:Not mine. We all know that.

Andrew finally opened the door on the tenth knock. Well, tenth hammering double-fisted blow, to be perfectly descriptive. Spike got straight in his face.

"Is she home yet? Buffy. Is she here?"

Andrew sighed, glanced behind him quickly and then stepped aside, holding the door wide. "Yes, she's back. I suppose you might as well -"

Spike and Angel both started through the door, colliding and tangling in the fight to shoulder both each other, and Andrew, out of the way.

" - come in," Andrew finished. He was met with no answer other than the faint swish of leather disappearing into the apartment. He hesitated for a second, then stepped out the door. "Guess I'll leave you guys to it, then," he said, and closed the door quietly behind him.

Outside, he fished his cellphone out of his pocket. "Hey, Dawn? It's me. Yeah, listen - wherever you are, I'm thinking you might want to stay there for a couple of hours."

Pushing Angel aside, Spike stalked through into the living room and planted himself, hands on hips, in front of the sofa.

"Well?"

Buffy blinked up at him. "Hello Buffy, good to see you again. You look well. Yeah, I'm fine, I shook that being-burned-into-oblivion thing right off in no time. Sorry I didn't call, and that you had to find out about me being alive by torturing Andrew with Barry Manilow records, but hey, you know how it is in the superhero business, right? No time for idle gossip."

Spike growled into the silence.

Buffy sighed heavily. "Okay, I guess we'll leave the whole catching up thing until later, then."

Another growl.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, what?"

"What have you got to say for yourself?"

"About what?"

Spike took a step forward. "About - are you kidding me? What do you think, Buffy? Do the words 'the' and 'Immortal' mean anything to you?"

She looked away. "Oh. That."

"Yes, that."

"Right."

Spike glared at her. "So?"

She shrugged.

Spike's hands curled into fists at his sides. "That's it? That's all you got? You dump me - "

" - me - "

He scowled at Angel. "Okay, us, to run round half of Europe with the sodding Immortal, of all people, and all you can do is shrug?"

She shrugged.

Angel stepped forward, elbowing Spike out of the way. "Oh, for -" he paused, then sat down by Buffy's side. "Buffy. Much as I hate to say it, Spike has a point underneath all that macho bullshit."

"Macho what? Oh, you're a fine one to talk, you - "

"We're just concerned about your safety. We - we know the Immortal, he's -"

Buffy twisted slightly to face him. "How well? Like in the biblical sense?"

" - not the kind of man you should - what? What did you say?"

"Just wondering exactly how well you all knew each other. Only he had quite a few interesting stories about the good old days, and - "

Angel shook his head vigorously. "No. No, Buffy, no. We never, absolutely never - " He broke off, looking at Spike. "What?"

Spike shifted slightly, and looked away. "Nothing."

"You didn't. Spike, you didn't. Did you?"

He shrugged.

Angel jumped to his feet and ran a hand over his eyes. "I don't believe this."

"It was just this one time, when Darla and - "

"Stop! No details, Spike, please!"

"What do you care, anyway?"

"I don't."

"Fine. Then do you think you could let go of my throat? I know I don't need to breathe and all, but it's getting kind of uncomfortable."

"Oh." Angel released his grip, and stared wonderingly at his hand while Spike massaged his neck resentfully.

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Jeez, Angel. Jealous, much?"

"I am not jealous! I have never touched, or wanted to touch, so much as a single hair on the Immortal's head." He threw a look at Spike. "Or anywhere else on his body, before you start thinking about getting smart. Unless it was to try and kill him, in which case - "

"I meant," said Buffy, "jealous of Spike."

Angel tilted his head slowly back round to look at her. "Excuse me?"

She folded her hands in her lap. "You heard me," she said calmly.

"Sure, I heard you. I just don't understand you. Why the hell, exactly, would I be jealous of Spike?"

"Because you love him," she said, equally calmly.

In the silence that followed, Angel turned to Spike. "Okay, look, there's obviously something wrong with her. He's cast a spell on her or given her a brain fever or something. I'll get her out of here, you call Wesley and see what he - "

"Give it up, Angel. She obviously knows."

"Knows? Knows what? What are you talking about, Spike?"

"Oh, come on. Drop the indignant virgin routine, okay? You know exactly what I'm talking about and so does Buffy, thanks to our old friend. Me and you, back in the day, we - "

"No. No. There's no me and you, Spike. There is absolutely, definitely, no me and you. Ever."

Spike took a deliberate step forward, his eyes locked on Angel's. "Sure there is."

Angel backed up, tripped over a pile of magazines and landed back on the sofa beside Buffy. He grabbed her.

"Buffy!" he yelled. "See? I love Buffy."

Buffy patted his leg. "I know." She smiled up at Spike. "And so does he. You love me, Spike loves me, you love Spike and Spike loves you. And I - " she paused, and a faraway look came into her eyes. " - really never quite managed to get over the whole idea of the wrestling. And the oil. And the naked. I'm not sure if I mentioned the naked part at the time, but it's a really important part of the plan."

She shook herself slightly, and her eyes cleared. Then she reached out and grabbed both their hands, pulling them towards her. She smiled. "So you can see how this is all going to work out just fine, can't you?"

- End -