A/N: You may recognise this fic from the first chapter which I initially posted many moons ago. I have now renamed it and revised this first chapter so I hope you like it - please review!



As the waves crashed on the shore, Buffy Summers ran across the sand, listening to the music programmed into her iPod.

She’d been in the habit of going for a morning jog ever since moving into her beachfront home in Sunnydale, California, a small coastal town to the north of Los Angeles. She enjoyed the exercise and inhaling the fresh sea air always focused her mind for the day ahead. Not that her days were especially demanding. She didn’t work and she rarely left the house except to go shopping or out for lunch with friends. Occasionally, she drove down to L.A. to spend a few days with her boyfriend, but usually he drove up to see her.

The media had long since labelled her a recluse but in truth, she just didn’t enjoy the recognition anymore. The two years that she’d spent in the limelight – two years of wearing dark sunglasses everywhere she went, of not leaving the house unless she was accompanied by a three hundred pound bodyguard, and of having every aspect of her life splashed across the tabloids – had been enough to last her a lifetime. It wasn’t as if she went out of her way to avoid being recognised – she just preferred quieter, more private settings that were not patronised by celebrities and paparazzi.

Reaching her house, she took the steps up to the deck and headed inside through the sliding doors. The single-storey property had an open-plan living room and kitchen/dining area as well as two bedrooms, one with an en-suite, and a second bathroom. She had fallen in love with it the moment she’d seen it, much to the delight of her real estate broker.

The interior had been bare and unadorned, which had allowed her the opportunity to make it her own. She’d redesigned and redecorated it herself – a project which had taken all her energy at a time when she desperately needed something to occupy herself with. The floors throughout were solid beech accented by strategically placed rugs. The living room had leather sofas with scatter cushions and numerous pieces of art hanging on the walls and the adjoining kitchen had an island worktop with ceiling pan rack. The two bedrooms were decorated in muted colours and the en-suite to the master bedroom had a free-standing bathtub and walk-in shower.

In the kitchen, Buffy set her iPod on the counter and went straight to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. Walking back through to the living room, she picked up the remote and turned on the wall-mounted plasma television, flicking through the channels.

Hearing the phone start ringing, she returned to the kitchen and seeing her boyfriend’s name on the caller ID, she picked up the handset with a smile.

“Angel, hi.”

“Hey Buff, how are you?”

“Good,” she said, taking a sip of water. “You?”

“Great, great. Listen, babe, I’m in the car between meetings and I just wanted to give you the good news – Lorne and I have finally signed the contract with Illyria.”

Buffy could hear the excitement in his voice and she felt elated for him. “Oh, Angel, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.”

Angel O’Connor and Lorne Hallett headed up Host Records, a small, independent record label. They didn’t have the resources or the contacts boasted by the major labels, yet they had clearly appealed to Illyria, a hot new artist whose huge MySpace had caught the industry’s attention. Every record executive in the country and even beyond had been determined to sign her and this was major coup for Host.

“Thanks, babe. Anyway, Lorne’s throwing a party this weekend to celebrate and I was hoping you might come.”

Her heart sank. “Oh, Angel, I don’t know.” Her reservation was clear in her voice. “You know I’m not a big fan of Lorne’s parties.”

“I know, babe, but you know how psyched we are about this. At least say you’ll think about it?”

She sighed. “Ok, ok, I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, babe. I’ve got to run. Talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She pressed the button to end the call and then replaced the handset. She was truly happy for Angel and Lorne, but she really didn’t feel like going to the party. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Lorne – he was a good friend and he’d been the one to introduce her to Angel – but it had been a long time since she’d been to an industry party and she wasn’t eager about the prospect of being forced to socialise with people from her past, people who might, however unintentionally, dredge up bad memories. She knew it would mean a lot to Angel if she went, so maybe she would try to ride it out for one night. At the very least she’d think about like she promised.

Sighing, she drained the contents of her bottle and threw it in the trash, deciding she needed a shower to wash away the sweat and sand from her run. But heading through her bedroom to the adjoining bathroom, she froze as she heard the familiar opening bars of a song she hadn’t heard in years.

Her heartbeat racing, she returned to the living room where she saw a younger version of herself on the TV screen. It was almost like seeing her ghost – her hair which she now wore straight was styled in ringlets and much blonder than her current honey tones, her leather pants looked as though they’d been painted on and her rock tee was designer ripped. If it wasn’t for the butterfly tattoo she still sported on her left wrist, she might think it was a different person she was looking at and it was hard to believe how much she’d changed, physically and emotionally.

The camera moved then to zoom in on the bleach blond haired, blue eyed man standing to her left strumming away on a guitar before leaning into the mike.

~Tommy used to work on the docks
Union’s been on strike, he’s down on his luck
It’s tough, so tough~

The camera moved back to her as she began singing.

~Gina works the diner all day
Working for her man, she brings home her pay
For love, for love~

The camera panned out again to reveal both her and Spike as well as the other members of their band, who provided backing vocals as well as musical accompaniment.

~She says we’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got
Cause it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not
We’ve got each other and that’s a lot for love
We’ll give it a shot
Oh, we’re half way there
Living on a prayer
Take my hand and well make it, I swear
Living on a prayer~

She usually steered well clear of the music channels – she hated seeing her past immortalised on television. Her music career had been a big part of her life but it had also been the cause of so much pain that she’d decided it would be better for her emotional wellbeing if she avoided anything that might remind her of it.

Grabbing the remote, she switched off the TV and headed back into the bathroom, discarding her clothes as she went. Stepping under the hot spray, she tried to push away the images that were fluttering at the periphery of her memory. But thanks to that stupid music channel, she couldn’t get Spike’s face out of her mind.

She didn’t want to think about her former music career and even less so about the man who had been such a huge part of her life at the time. For the two years during which their band, Aurelius had been at the top of the charts, she and Spike had been joined at the hip. Their attraction to each other had been instantaneous and they had fallen into bed within hours of meeting.

When the band hit the big time, their fans had seemed as interested in their passionate yet stormy relationship as they were in their music and in addition to several articles on the band, Rolling Stone magazine had done a four page spread on the pair of them.

Unfortunately, Spike’s combination of gorgeous looks, sexy accent and musical genius made him very popular with his female fans and a major target for the band’s groupies, which had succeeded in igniting Buffy’s mile wide jealous streak. Matters were then made worse when their makeup artist quit only to be replaced by a busty blonde who had made it clear she wanted Spike for herself.

At the same time, Buffy’s passion for her career had begun to cool. She’d grown tired of her frenetic, demanding lifestyle – the constant flying in an out of cities for concerts, interviews and public appearances – and of living a life so far removed from reality. She’d begun to desperately crave the normalcy and routine of her pre-Aurelius days.

Unfortunately, this yearning was in direct opposition to Spike’s unwavering ambition, leading to numerous heated arguments. Eventually, things had come to a head at a party thrown by some wealthy songwriter, which Buffy had stormed out of. Spike had followed her and subsequent events had finally marked the beginning of the end, events which had brought Buffy so much pain that she just knew there was no going back.

Even now, tears ran down her cheeks at the memory to mix with the water still showering down on her. Blinking them back, she turned off the faucet and stepped out of the cubicle, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself.

It had been three years since the tragic circumstances which had lead to their split and no matter how hard she tried, the memories still had the power to affect her. She knew that it was that in part that had made her want to leave L.A. and move to Sunnydale.

How long it would be before she could eventually come to terms with what had happened, she didn’t know. But she did know that living here, away from the media spotlight and away from her past, brought her a modicum of peace.





A/N: Sorry if I've been a little vague with Buffy and Spike's past, but I'm planning a few flashback chapters next to deal with it in more detail so bear with me...

A/N #2: 'Living On A Prayer' is by Bon Jovi (Slippery When Wet, 1986)

A/N: A second chapter...wonders will never cease! And I'm busy working on the third...



– Five years earlier –

Wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, Buffy followed Wesley Wyndham-Price into the club. When she’d first met him, Wesley was the last person she’d have pictured as the manager of an up and coming rock band. He had an upper class English accent, thin, wire-framed glasses and a slight stutter.

Wesley had long been a regular at the downtown café where she worked, always choosing the same booth where he sat reading and drinking tea. He often stayed late and since she usually worked the graveyard shift, she saw him most nights. Then one night, she’d been cleaning up and singing along to the radio when he’d come up to the counter and slid his card across it, before telling her that he was the manager of a band who were looking for a female vocalist and he wanted her to come to an audition the following day.

And so here she was, wondering how on earth she could have thought this was a good idea. She was not a singer. Sure, she sang along to the radio and in the shower, but there was a big difference between that and singing in a band. On stage. In front of people. But she swallowed the lump in her throat as Wesley lead her over to a group of guys she assumed must be the members of the band.

“Er, boys, may I introduce Buffy Summers,” he said, as three heads looked up. “That’s Xander, who plays drums…”

He pointed to a tall dark haired guy who stopped fiddling with the screw on one of his cymbals long enough to say “hey”.

“…Oz, who plays bass…”

A short red haired guy looked up from where he sat on a chair plucking away and nodded.

“…Gunn, one of our guitarists…”

Gunn was a tall black guy with a cute smile which he threw in her direction.

“…and this,” he finished, indicating another guy who’d just walked in the door, “is Spike, the other guitarist, lead male vocals and the resident songwriter of the group. And also my cousin.”

The only similarity between Wesley and Spike that Buffy could see was that they both had lean frames. Other than that they were as different as night and day. Wesley looked as though he’d be more at home wearing tweed and surrounded by piles of musty smelling books, while Spike looked every inch the quintessential rock musician. He was wearing tight blue jeans that left little to the imagination and a tight black t-shirt which outlined his muscular torso. His hair was bleached platinum blond and he was wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Buffy couldn’t help the way her pulse started thudding when he sauntered over to her and Wesley and held out his hand.

“‘Ello, pet,” he said, his voice less cultured than his cousin’s which made it all that more sexy, especially combined with the incredible blue eyes he uncovered after removing his sunglasses.

“Hey,” she replied.

“So,” Wesley said. “Are you ready to show the boys what you’ve got?”

“Um…ok,” Buffy said, tearing her eyes away from Spike’s. “What do you want me to sing?”

Wesley pointed to a laptop set up on the bar. “Well, its, er, up to you. We’ve got the instrumental tracks from over ten thousand songs on there. Just pick one.”

After perusing the list, she selected a track and then took her place behind the mike as the band gathered round to watch. After hearing the opening bars, she began to sing.

~Digging deep, I feel my conscience burn.
I need to know who and what I am.
This hunger jolts me from complacency.
It rocks me, and makes me meet myself~

~Cause Jacob walked a limp to remind him
Of the greater gift of the greater one.
But when I fell, I fell to my own resources
How can I carry the truth if I can't crawl to you?~

As she sang, she looked at the guys sitting in front of her assessing her performance. Xander sat tapping his hand on his leg, while Oz bopped his head to the beat. Gunn had the same grin on his face as before and Wesley was smiling too. Her eyes moved to Spike and she almost forgot to breathe when she saw the intensity in his crystalline blue gaze.

~I wanna feel something sweeter than this sin.
Cover me in leaves, roll me over again.
Cause I've been everybody else now I want to be
Something closer to myself~

Her skin prickled under his scrutiny. She had never felt such an attraction before and certainly not in such a short space of time. Even with her ex-boyfriend, Riley Finn, who she’d been with for four years of college – she’d been attracted to him in her own way but she’d never felt the all-consuming pull that she was feeling now only minutes after meeting Spike.

~Paint me in a different light, shed me yet another coat of skin.
Mark me with ash until I'm clean again.
'Cause I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I know I can love you, I know that I can~

~I wanna feel something sweeter than this sin.
Cover me in leaves, roll me over again.
I've been everybody else now I want to be
Something closer to myself~

She had broken up with Riley mainly because she knew she’d never love him the way he seemed to love her. And also because he’d never really understood her. After graduating from college, she’d decided to take some time out to go travelling instead of getting a job. It was for this reason that she was currently working in the café – it was an easy way of saving up the cash to fund her travels. In Riley’s mind – and words – her plans were just a silly dream and she was wasting her psychology degree by not taking the job she’d been offered on the Sunnydale Memorial psych ward – where incidentally, he also worked.

~I wanna feel something sweeter than this sin.
Cover me in leaves, roll me over again.
Cause I've been everybody else now I want to be
Something closer to myself~

~And I wanna feel something sweeter than this sin.
Cover me in leaves, roll me over again.
I've been everybody else now I want to be
Something closer to myself~

As the music died away, Gunn walked towards her, his smile even bigger than before.

“Buffy, that was great.”

“Yeah, you were brilliant,” Xander added.

Buffy smiled back, still a little overwhelmed by the whole experience. Did they really think she had what it took to co-front a rock band?

“I must say,” Wesley said. “You exceeded my expectations. Of course the final decision lies with the boys.”

Spike spoke up then and Buffy turned to face him feeling herself almost drown in his eyes.

“I think she’s perfect.”

****

Several hours later, Buffy sat at a table in the club. After the success of her audition, the band minus Wesley had decided on having a few drinks to celebrate. After a few beers, Xander, Oz and Gunn left, claiming dinner plans with their respective partners, leaving Buffy alone with Spike.

Despite her limited experience with men – she’d only ever slept with Riley and her high school boyfriend, Billy Fordham – Buffy knew exactly where they were headed and she couldn’t deny that she wanted it. Ok, so she’d never slept with someone she’d only just met, but there was something about Spike that made her want to give in to her baser urges for a change, especially when he pressed his knee against hers under the table, sending tingles through her body.

“Well, I think it’s my round,” she said, holding up her empty bottle. “You want another?”

“Thanks, luv,” Spike said. “But just tell Scott to put it on the band’s tab. You’re one of us now so you don’t need to be spending no money tonight.”

Buffy smiled and headed over to the bar to order a Jack Daniels and coke for Spike and a beer for herself, before returning to the booth they were occupying in a dark corner of the club, which was now buzzing with people. She handed Spike his drink and he held it up, proposing a toast. “To the newest member of Aurelius.”

Buffy clinked her bottle against his glass. “This all seems kind of surreal. Of all the things I’ve ever thought of doing in my life, joining a rock band was nowhere on the list.”

Spike grinned. “Life’s full of surprises, luv. The thing is, in the music industry, it’s all about marketability. If a label reckons they can sell us, then they’re more likely to offer us a deal. Now you’ve got a great voice, but you’ve also got something else, something special. I knew it the moment I saw you on stage. Like you were made to be there.”

Buffy found his hypothesis somewhat amusing considering she’d found the idea of her being in a rock band rather laughable – before, during and even after her audition.

“Plus,” he said, leaning closer so his breath teased her ear. “You’re sexy as hell.”

He pulled back slightly, their eyes meeting and whatever reservations she may have had about sleeping with Spike were well and truly quelled by the heat she saw there. Heat she knew was reflected in her own eyes.

Her breath caught as his lips descended, her mouth opening under his and his tongue touching hers. He tasted of a mixture of whiskey, tobacco and something that was uniquely Spike. The kiss quickly grew heated as he pulled her into his lap, his hands sliding under her shirt as she grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket.

“Buffy, kitten…you taste so sweet,” he groaned, pulling away to suck on her pulse point, making her moan.

She could feel his hard cock pressing against her through the heavy denim of his jeans and the thought of it inside her was making her wet. She brought his mouth back to hers, before pressing a line of kisses along the line of his jaw to his ear and whispering the words that would bring the fire between them to its natural conclusion.

“Let’s get out of here.”




A/N: What's gonna happen next I wonder? Everyone knows more reviews mean chapters posted more quickly - its blackmail but its true!

A/N #2: 'Closer To Myself' is by Kendall Payne (Jordan's Sister, 1999)