Title: Is Your Refrigerator Running?

Author: lycheejane

Summary: Buffy and Spike prank call Angel in L.A. after Pangs.

Someone was crying. Spike knew that much. He was actually rather irritated by the loud sobs that were coming from Giles' bathroom. He'd just fallen asleep on this bloody uncomfortable chair. He figured it was probably the witch, crying over her werewolf again. But then he sensed her nearby presence.

The Slayer. Oh, of course, his ponce of a grandsire's Thanksgiving visit. Angelus, making women cry since 1753. Granted, back then, it wasn't breaking up with women, and checking up on them without informing them; more like brutally torturing, raping and murdering them...

"Slayer? Will you bloody shut up? A bloke is trying to sleep here!" Spike called from his chair. He heard her squeal in surprise and fall. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she got up, and angrily pushed through the door.

"You," Buffy grabbed a stake from Giles' couch and pointed it threateningly at Spike. Or, where she thought he was, anyway - too many tears blurring her vision. "You are only here because we need to know about the commandos. And if I want to -"

"And so the crying has nothing to do with a certain souled vampire popping in?"

Buffy burst into a fresh round of tears with the stake still raised above her head. "He broke up with me!" she whimpered loudly. "Just before prom! I mean, I'm a teenage girl… with hormones and feelings and shit!"

Buffy flopped down onto the sofa and cried into Giles' couch cushions. Spike was completely lost for what to do in this situation. "Um... there, there... slayer?" She still cried. "You know what, Summers? I'd either go to LA and stake his poncey ass or I'd prank call him so much he'd have to change his number or move to Mexico or something like that."

Buffy sat up and looked at him. "Really?" When he nodded, a wicked grin plastered her face. She instantly ran to Giles' extension phone and plopped herself down on the couch. She took Giles' address book from under Willow's book of ancient prophecies. A… Angel... She punched in the phone number and let the phone ring.

"Hello?" Angel's tired voice came from the receiver.

"Ma'am, we are looking for a Mr. Angel?" Buffy said in a slightly distorted voice so that Angel wouldn't recognise it.

Spike and Buffy both snorted silently as they heard Angel yell, "MA'AM?"

"Yes, Ma'am, we are calling for a Mr. Angel?"

"Speaking." he said in an icy tone.

"Oh, I see. Would you like us to update your details from Mr. Angel to Miss. Angel, or perhaps Mrs. Angel?"

"I am a male!" Angel squeaked. Buffy and Spike struggled to keep in their laughter. "I mean," Angel deepened his voice. "Who are you and why are you calling?"

"Sir, we're from Amazon dot com, and we'd like to confirm a rather large order that we received yesterday; and as per company policy, we must verbally confirm any checkouts over $10,000. On November the 22nd, you ordered four bottles of vintage Chanel Number 5, at $499.99 each, a tube of rash ointment priced for $2.50 -"

"I did not order any of that!' Angel yelled.

"Sir, is your name Angel?"

"Yes..."

"Do you currently reside at the following address?" Buffy repeated the address listed in Giles' address book.

"Yes..."

"We have a cheque from you, right here on file."

"But I..."

"Sir, the point of confirming the order is to either put the order through or cancel it."

"Um, cancel it... but could you, uh, still... send, um, the rash ointment? Hello? HELLO?"

Buffy hung up on him and burst out laughing in unison with Spike.

"My god, pet," Spike managed to get out between fits of hysterical laughter. "That was bloody priceless."

"Thanks." she looked at him curiously. "Do you want a turn?"

"Give it here, love." Buffy handed him the phone, confident that whatever Spike could come up with would be way better than anything of hers.

The Angel Investigations office phone rang. Angel ignored it, still pissed that the kids of today would prank call him. Cordelia was lost in her cuticle care and Doyle was asleep next to her.

"You've called Angel Investigations, we help the helpless. Leave your message!"

There was a beep, and then a male voice filled the ears of both Cordy and Angel. "Hi, this is Roger from Playboy. We would like to to confirm a two -year subscription for Angel, so please call us back on 555- 1234 and for subscribing to our magazine you can claim your free bikini calendar for the year 2000! Thank you, have a nice day." the dial tone sounded.

Cordy looked up from her nails to glare at Angel.

"What?" Cordelia continued to give him a dirty look. "I... I didn't! Stupid kids of today..." he grumbled.

Buffy was sprawled all over Giles' couch, trying to keep her laughing to a minimum. Spike had no control over his hysteria, however, and Buffy thanked god that Giles was a heavy sleeper. Suddenly, she had a clever idea. She pulled one of Giles' dining room chairs next to Spike's, sat on it, and pressed the phone between their ears as it rang.

"Look, I don't know who the hell you -"

"Angel?" Buffy tried to sound confused.

"Oh. Uh, Buffy. Sorry, some kids keep calling..."

"That's okay. I'm sorry to be calling so late at night, but I wasn't tired, so I started flipping through one of Willow's collections of prophecies, and I found one that I think might refer to you. It says..." suddenly, Buffy moaned. Angel jumped off his seat and almost hit the ceiling.

"Buffy? What was that?"

"Sorry, Angel. Spike's here and god, does bleach blonde make me hot."

"WHAT?"

"Angel, please, the prophecy? Anyway, it says that - ah!" Buffy let out a series of quiet grunts.

"Buffy... I I know you're playing with me. Is this because I -"

"Love, come to bed," a British voice purred in Buffy's ear, the one with the phone glued to it. Angel froze. That was most definitely Spike's voice.

"One second, babe. You know it's 'the prophecy is the priority'! Anyway, Angel, the prophecy refers to you as a- oh! Oh my god..." she moaned again. Spike bit down on his lip to contain his laughter. Then, he moved his tongue across the roof of his mouth for the benefit of the noise, knowing that Angel could hear it and wouldn't like it wherever his grandsire assumed on the slayer he was putting his mouth.

"Baby, stop... So, it says the hero wi -" Buffy moaned once again, except this time it was louder and deeper.

"Buffy, what the FUCK is going on?" Angel yelled, alerting Cordelia, who jumped and smudged her nail polish.

"SPIKE!" Buffy screamed in fake ecstasy. "Angel, I'll call you ba- " Buffy hung up quickly and fell off her chair laughing.

"God, the way he sounded... I wanted to record it!"

"Love?" Buffy sat up and looked at Spike.

"Yeah?"

"Next week... if I get you Drusilla's phone number...?"

"What the hell, sure! That was fun!" there was an almost comfortable beat of silence.

"Spike, should we reinstate the truce?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "No killing evil ex- boyfriends this time, I gather?"

"No! No, like, you don't try to run away or destroy the world or take over anything or do anything evil... I won't kill you. Oh, and you have to promise. If Willow EVER offers you a cookie, no matter if it's a flavour you hate or anything, just say yes, and eat it, and tell her it's good. Okay?"

"Those are pretty simple terms, Slayer. And I kinda fancy my life, so... I'll eat Red's cookies."

"Oh, thank God." Buffy breathed, wincing when she remembered the time Giles hard turned Willow down for a chocolate chip. It had not been pleasant to watch.

A/N: Okay! There! First story up on this account. I'm definitely doing a sequel for this which would be a longer Spuffy (yes, this is pre-Spuffy) with much more plot - but hopefully as much humor as this one. And maybe one in between where Spike gets a hold of Drusilla's number? Anyway, there will be much more Buffy goodness to come.