“The Wireless Customer You Are Trying to Reach....”
Author: Pig Pimping ::looks up briefly, then returns to licking Ye Olde TV Guide featuring the studliest genetic mix ever created::
Rating: NC-17.....If’n you aren’t old enough to buy a magazine FEATURING genitals, then you probably aren’t old enough to read a story about them.
Summary: Damn you wireless carriers and your shitty connections! This one’s for YOU!
Spoilers: Hmmm....Up through the last episode of AtS, all of BtVS.
Distribution/Disclaimers/Feedback: Take ‘em if you want ‘em, cause they weren’t mine to begin with, but feel free to tell me how nicely I’ve treated them at email@example.com
Other stuff: Borrowed the term “asshat” from Ducks, because it cracks me up.
**Somewhere in Los Angeles**
The dark vampire paced the rooftop frantically, stopping every now and then to glance at the cellphone in his hand and growl in frustration. Dust flew in the air as his long strides took him straight through various piles of ashes, the only remaining evidence of another hard night on the job.
Gunn stepped through the rooftop entrance of the abandoned apartment building, stopping short at the sight of an aggravated Angel randomly pushing buttons on the phone before giving a cry of disgust and throwing it over the edge of the building. Wesley and Fred came out right behind Gunn, bumping into him before stepping to either side and looking at him questioningly.
“Another one bites the dust.” Gunn motioned towards Angel, who was now standing at the railing and glaring down at the remains of the expensive cellphone.
“Another? That’s the fourth one this week!” Fred placed a protective hand over her own phone, hidden in her coat pocket.
Angel whirled around and jogged towards them. “Gunn. Give me your cell phone.”
“No way, man.” Gunn backed up until his back was flush with the closed door leading back into the complex.
“Just for a minute.”
“Hey, I would, but I met this really fine ass girl I met at the club last week is supposed to call, and I can’t really answer the phone if you throw it over a building.” Angel rolled his eyes and started advancing on the group..
“Or run over it.” Wesley thanked the gods that he’d left his phone in the car.
“Or toss it into the ocean.” Fred tried to hide behind the men, hoping against hope that her own phone would be safe from such electronically devastating events, especially after she’d spent three hours that afternoon downloading her favorite ring tones.
“Fine. Nice to see such insubordination from my trusted staff.” Angel shoved Gunn out of the way and stalked down the stairs, leaving the three to stare after him knowingly.
“Girl troubles, man. Can’t live with ‘em, but then again, man cannot survive on masturbation alone.”
Wesley nodded his agreement, but had the grace to look properly apologetic under the glare of the lone estrogen carrying member of their group.
“Let’s go before he knocks over a Cingular stand.” They traipsed slowly down the four floors, not one of them really looking forward to being cooped up in a vehicle with a pissed off Angel.
Angel clenched his fists, then let loose with a barrage of punches onto the bag in front of him. His arms were a flurry of motion as he pounded his rage into an imaginary enemy. He was so intent on giving whatever he was seeing the beating of it’s life, that he paid no head to the door opening and closing behind him.
Finally, when his muscles were almost locked from exertion, he stopped, leaning his head and arm against the battered bag hanging from the ceiling.
“Problems, mate?” Angel heard the strike of a match and smelled the subsequent cloud of smoke ease over in his direction.
“Get out, Spike.”
“Now, is that any way to talk to your old pal? Your best mate?” Spike faked the hurt in his voice fairly well, and put on a pouting expression.
Angel stalked towards the blond vampire until they were nearly nose to nose. He held up his right and glared at Spike, nearly growling as he spoke.
“Number one.” He ticked off a finger. “No smoking in my apartment.” Angel used the hand not counting of his many reasons to throw Spike out to rip the cigarette out of the vampire’s mouth and put it out.
“Number two.” He ticked off another finger. “You are not now, nor have you *ever* been my best mate. The biggest thorn in my side, yes. The biggest pain in my ass, yes. But I wouldn’t say we’ve ever been friends.”
Spike just rolled his eyes.
“And number three.” He ticked off a third and final finger. “You should remember that you are only here as long as I ALLOW you to be here, William, so you’d do well not to piss me off.”
Spike smiled slowly and knowingly. “I shoulda known, you pansy git. Lady troubles? Fluffy ignoring you? Or just not....*trusting* you anymore?”
Angel shoved Spike roughly, sending him tumbling into the wall a few feet behind him. He slid down the wall clumsily, finally sitting awkwardly on the floor and chuckling.
“Got it in one, eh Peaches? Yeah, overheard the watcher repeating the whole conversation between you and that little fuck Andrew this morning. Good to know Buffy finally came to her senses.” Spike pushed himself off the floor and, with a little more pep in his step than when he had entered, headed for the door.
“Be seeing you, Angelus. And, by the by, you might want to work on your hospitality towards your guests. Miss Manners would be horrified.”
He exited quickly, barely dodging the airborne lamp that was on a collision course with his bleached skull.
Angel sighed wearily and walked over to the shattered remains of the lamp, picking up the pieces and tossing them in the garbage. He’d been trying to call Buffy for the past week, but every single damn cell phone on the planet seemed cursed the minute it fell into his undead hands. He couldn’t get good reception if his redemption depended on it, and every time he’d tried to call Buffy’s phone or hotel from land lines, he got a busy signal or a voice mail message.
He wasn’t sure what irritated him more; That Andrew had practically shouted that Buffy no longer trusted him, or that the annoying little fuck got to be around her, and he was stuck here waiting pathetically for a phone call, an email, anything.
He tried to console himself with the fact that maybe he’d misunderstood the boy, maybe Buffy hadn’t called in so long because she was swamped with rounding up all the newly-made Slayers and teaching them how to survive. But that nagging voice deep down, the one that made him want to curl up into a ball under his desk until the Jets won the Superbowl, insisted that she had PLENTY of time to call. She just didn’t want to.
Angel kicked that little voice into submission and reached for his cordless, dialing the number he’d memorized by heart. He heard a few click, then a ring.
And then, the dreaded feminine voice that rattled off the message he’d grown to loathe almost as much as his arrogant GrandChilde rang loud and clear across the line.
“The wireless customer you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try your call again later.”
He slammed the phone down into the cradle and headed back to the punching bag.
*****Somewhere in Rome*****
Buffy shook the phone with aggravation, cursing under her breath as she walked in circles around the room.
Xander looked on curiously and nudged Willow, who looked up questioningly from the book she’d had her nose buried in for hours.
“What’s she doing?”
Xander shrugged at her question and popped another chip in his mouth.
“Could be anything. She’s either trying to pull a Superman and reverse the earth’s rotation, or......”
“Or trying to get a damn signal, which is apparently useless in the middle of nowhere!” Buffy moaned in frustration and threw the phone against the wall. Metal and plastic showered down onto the carpet of the small inn they’d found days earlier; Apparently the only lodging within a hundred miles on either direction, according to the innkeeper. Well, he’d either said that or they could milk the cows on Tuesday, but only if they wore helmets. She didn’t ACTUALLY speak Italian, and these people talked WAY too fast to use the little ‘Italian to English’ dictionary she’d bought at the airport.
“My, my, little lady, you kiss your watcher with that mouth?” Xander dodged the pillow thrown at his head, ducking down and allowing it to smack Willow in the face instead.
“Do you think we could have one day where you *aren’t* completely disgusting?” Buffy huffed and marched over to sit beside Willow, who glared and raised the pillow threateningly but allowed her to take a seat.
“Do you think we could have one day where you aren’t trying to call Dead Boy and profess your undying looooooove?” Xander batted his eyelashes and raised a hand to his forehead, pretending to swoon.
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s NOT why I’m calling him. I’m just trying to do a little damage control since Andrew is a complete spaz.”
“His status a an asshat notwithstanding, why are you really so desperate to call Angel?” Willow raised her eyebrows at her dearest friend, and waited patiently for an answer.
“No reason.” Buffy slid down into the couch as far as she could, avoiding their eyes and staring into space.
“Buffy.” She still stared anywhere but at Xander, who continued. “Buffy, look at me. Look deeeeep into my eyes.”
“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared fixedly at the wall.
“What’s the big deal? So you still have the hots for the guy. So what? I’m still strangely aroused by She-Ra, but you don’t see Willow giving me a hard time about it.”
Willow snorted and let loose with a stream of giggles. “Oh, but I will now. This ranks right up there with your footie pajamas.”
“I’m trying to make a point here, friend of friends, and you‘re not helping. Look, Buffy. You guys have history. You still want to make the naked pretzel? Go for it! Who are we to judge?”
Buffy sat bolt upright in mock surprise. “Is this the same Xander Harris who was behind an Angel intervention for me when he came back from Hell? The SAME Xander who has hated Angel since the day you met him?”
He placed a hand on his chest in shock. “Oh ye of little faith! I am a changed man, Buffy! I’ve turned over a new leaf! Mended my ways and adopted a new, more Angel-positive outlook!”
Willow still his ramblings with an upheld hand. “What Xander is trying to say is that well, frankly, you’re getting really testy and cranky. We think you need to get laid.”
“Which is why......” She trailed off, dragging the suspense out for all it was worth. “We’ve found a way for you to get laid. With Angel. And not make him lose his soul and kill us all.”
Buffy just stared at them, her expression blank.
Xander waited a whole minute, and after noticing she didn’t blink the whole time, waved a hand in front of her eyes.
“I think she’s in shock, Will.”
Willow hopped up and headed to the small kitchenette. “I’ll start the coffee.”