A/N's:This is my first real AU fic, be nice. I wasn't going to post this until it was finished because I have so many wip's going, but basically I just feel shitty for not updating so here you go, another work in progress....


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Spike sat on the couch in his band mates house, guitar in hand, picking at chords and scribbling down the notes. Oz, the lead guitarist In Dingoes ate my baby had disappeared a few moments ago to go answer the door.

Earlier that morning he had got a call and announced that he would be busy for an hour as a friend was coming over. Spike was curious but he had better things to think about. Like practising for the next concert. It ad six months since he had got his head out of the clouds and really threw himself into his work.

He remembered the last few years, a haze of memories really. Drugs, alcohol and Dru. He had really fucked up there. He had been consumed by her. Followed her, even when it had taken him to places he didn’t really want to be. Luckily Oz and Willow had pulled him back before he killed himself and wrecked their band. He shook his head in wonder at his friends. Not only had they rescued him, but they allowed him to still be a part of the band they had started back in college.

He had done so many stupid things, silly publicity stunts at Dru’s request.

“But you would do it, if you loved me, my Spike.” That had been her favourite phrase, and like a lovesick puppy he had done them.

But not now, now he was back on track, and he would stay that way. He went back to strumming a few chords when Willow entered the room.

“Sounds good.” She commented smiling. Spike looked at their drummer. Who would have thought that a computer nerd had such rhythm? But she did and had showed Oz and Spike in a fit of temper when they were teenagers, she had asked to be in the band and Spike said that she could be a groupie.

The redhead sat beside Spike and tapped her thighs with her hands, along with his song.
Oz passed through the hallway with a girl. Spike only saw the back of her as they passed. She had blond hair, she was wearing a black floaty dress and she was barefoot.

“Who’s the hippy?” He asked Willow and she jumped up at his question.

“Buffy’s here? I gotta go.” She made a dash out of the room and followed Oz.

“What sort of name is Buffy?” Spike mumbled to himself. He shook of the curiosity and went back to work.

Soon he heard music drifting into the room and went to investigate. He followed it into one of the back rooms. He heard Oz talking to the mystery guest.

“I don’t really play piano Buffy. Hey Spike can you come play something?” Oz asked as he spotted Spike at the doorway.

Spike looked at Buffy; her back was still turned, as she looked out of the window.

“Oz, I don’t really have time to mess around with other stuff, we have a lot of work to do for the concert. It’s only a couple of months away now.” Oz nodded and Willow gave him a dirty look.

Oz started to play his guitar; the music was soft and haunting, Spike felt goose bumps rise on his arms. He turned to leave.

Then he heard her sing.





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