Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all and I don't own one damned thing. *pouts*




Chapter One: Professional Lead Vocalist Wanted


Interview 2000

I think I remember it differently than Angel…

I was a complete nervous wreck…

The last bloody person…. I had no experience - I was just someone who had sung in couple of school musicals…

So…

I sang for ‘em…


1993
London, England

“So, are you going to do it?”

Twenty-one year old William Giles looked up from the ad he had been contemplating for the past twenty or so minutes. “What’d you say, luv?”

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. She pointed to the paper in his hands. “That. Are you going to do it?”

He looked down at it again.

Professional Lead Vocalist Wanted
For Professional Outfit
Presently Financed by Major Publishing Company

They were seated on the sofa in the lounge of the residence hall. It was late on a Sunday night and most of the other students had already gone down for the evening. However, Buffy was desperately trying to put the finishing touches on her paper regarding marginal imagery of Gothic Art. William was staying up for her. He would help…but his major was English literature - not Art History. He really didn’t get it. What the hell was marginal imagery anyway?

William, when he was in secondary school, pursued drama and music. However, when he was presented an opportunity to pursue it further in a post-secondary school, turned it down. Why? Because his then-girlfriend, Cecily, didn’t get accepted. Of course, they ended up breaking up two weeks later, anyway. Sure, he was heartbroken. Of course, he was. Cecily was his first real girlfriend and he, being the romantic that he was, thought they were meant to be.

But then, he came to the University, on a scholarship he managed to get - otherwise he never would have been able to afford to go. Two weeks after the first term began he met her. Buffy. The sweet American girl who was completely lost in this foreign country. The attraction was instant and they had been inseparable ever since. Buffy Summers, William was convinced, was the love of his life. He had found the one. The one he was going to marry.

The one who was currently staring at him, awaiting an answer.

The ad was something he had been holding on to for the past week. He found it in a small newsmagazine about local bands when he was working one night at the music store near the campus. To be completely honest, he had no idea why the idea was so appealing. He’d never had any musical performance experience at all…well, unless you counted the high school musical. He wasn’t a singer. He was a writer. He liked to write poetry. Sure, he had gotten plenty of compliments on his voice. Sure, it was something of a fantasy of his, but really, he, a lead vocalist? It was an absurd idea.

But then, his inner voice questioned, why did he keep the ad? Why didn’t he just toss it?

Because, he thought to himself, it’s something you’ve always wanted. Ever since you were a kid. It’s your dream job.

Another minute dragged on.

“Well? Are you?” Buffy asked, exasperated by his slow response.

He sighed and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He crumbled the ad and tossed it toward the trash can across the room. It bounced off the rim and fell to the ground. William sighed again and leaned his head against the back of the sofa, looking at his love. “Are you almost finished?”

Her eyes never left her paper as she scribbled madly, as if struck with a sudden brilliant idea. “Why not?”

He suppressed another sigh. “’Cuz, luv, they’ll be wanting someone with experience, somethin’ I don’t have. I’m not a singer.”

She put her pen down and looked at him. “Why do you think that? You’ve got an amazing voice.”

“Thanks, pet. But, I still think it’d be a waste of time.”

“Well, you won’t know until you try out.” With that, she returned to her paper.

William, thinking the subject was dropped, settled down in the cushions to watch her work. However, perhaps against his better judgment, his eyes slid back to the crumbled ad.

No…it was stupid. He’d only be setting himself up for embarrassment. And failure. Besides, he already had his future planned. Graduate college, marry Buffy, have lots of kids, teach and write. Nowhere in those plans did singing fit.

So…again, why was the temptation so strong? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Maybe Buffy was right. He should just, at least, call, find some things out. Maybe it wouldn’t be a waste of time.

He stood up and, like a moth to the flame, moved towards the piece of paper and picked it up. Almost reverently, he smoothed the wrinkles out.

Maybe…

Buffy slipped her eyes up, keeping her face down, and watched him. She smiled as he picked up the ad. Then, she added the final words to her paper. Whipping it out, she handed it to him, “Here, check it, Mr. English Major.”

William took the paper from her. Her title made him tilt his head in curiosity. “’The Devil, Sex and Obscenities on the Medieval Church?’ What are they teaching you in that class, pet?”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “Just read it.”

*************

Anxious didn’t even begin to describe how William was feeling as he pulled his car up to The Bronze. He got up the nerves and finally contacted Angel. He was told the band was called Red Edge. Their previous lead vocalist quit, due to personal reasons. No experience? No problem. Looking for talent. Alright. Can you come Tuesday night for an audition and to meet the rest of the band? See you then.

So, that was how William found himself at the local club. Buffy offered to go with him, but he declined, worried her presence would shake his already frazzled nerves. As he quietly slipped through the door into the darkened club, his nerves increased as he heard the man currently on stage. Suddenly, he wished he did ask Buffy to tag along. Maybe her presence would have had more of a calming effect than he originally thought.

There was no way he stood a chance. The man on that stage was incredible. And he certainly looked the part of a rock star. William adjusted his glasses self-consciously as he eyed the man’s attire. Despite everything said to the contrary, William knew image did play a huge role. And he most definitely didn’t look the part. Floppy light brown hair. Wire-framed glasses. The khakis and tucked-in white dress shirt. Definitely not your typical rock star image. Although, he thought to himself, oddly proud, the fresh jagged scar across his left eyebrow added to his lacking rock star appeal.


Interview 1997

Oh, this?

No, I wish I could say it came from a bar fight, or somethin’ manly like that…

No, I, uh, I was twenty-one, working at Willy’s…Willy’s Music Store. The night shift. I was supposed to close for the evenin’.

And, uh, we were robbed. Don’t remember much… ‘cept the guy cold cocked me with the gun…

No….no, they never did catch the bloody bastard…

Last I heard anyway…


1993

“Thank you,” a male voice sounded.

The singer stopped singing. “How was that?”

“Good. It was good. Um…we’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay….okay….Sure thing.” He leapt off the stage and moved towards the exit, where William still was standing.

William stepped to the side as the man passed, sneering at him. The faint aroma of weed trailed the man. William wrinkled his nose. Nice.

“You William Giles?” a tall, brunette man, speaking with an American accent, came up to him.

“Oh, yeah,” William nodded.

The man held his hand out, “Name’s Angel. We spoke on the phone. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” William instantly liked the man. He certainly didn’t appear to dismiss him on merely his outward appearance.

Angel gave a slight nod and led William further into the club. He spoke to his fellow band members, “Last one tonight, guys. This is William Giles.”

William shook hands with each of the members, trying to remember the names as they were announced. Okay, Timothy was the drummer; Devon, the keyboards, and Sean was on rhythm guitar. And, of course, Angel on lead guitar.

“So, you ready to do this?” Angel asked.

“Um,” William cleared his throat, “Yeah, I guess.”

Angel gestured to the stage as if to say, ‘It’s all yours.’

William gave a jerky nod and took his place in front of the band. The voice in the back of his head, the one that always kept him from taking risks like this before spoke up. This was stupid. A stupid idea. He was on the road towards humiliation. No, scratch that; he was racing towards and was about to crash head first into the concrete wall of humiliation. What the bloody hell was he doing up here, on this damn stage?

He wasn’t a rock star. He was William Giles, the writer, the poet, who just happened to get parts in plays and musicals. Who took one term of music in which he played the trombone - rather badly, too. And that was years ago. He didn’t know anything about music. Not really.

Except that he loved it.

Get off the stage, you bloody idiot, his inner voice screamed. Go back to your books. Go back to your pen and paper. Go back to your safe world.

But, while a huge part of him said ‘don’t do this,’ another part said he needed to do this. Prove to himself that he could do this.

He took a deep breath and began to sing.


Interview 2000

…..and everythin’ changed…



END CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two : Performance Anxiety


Interview 1999

So, there I was… nervous as hell…my bloody voice cracked… I was off-pitch…



1993

The sun had set hours ago. William cursed himself when he noticed what time it was. After midnight. Shit. Well after midnight. By three hours. Definitely wasn’t planning on being out that late. He quietly let himself in the residence hall.

The lounge was virtually deserted, except for one person.

Buffy.

She was curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. He instantly felt bad. She obviously was waiting for him to return. And he kept her waiting.

He knelt down in front of her. Smiling softly, he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

“Buffy?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t stir. He said her name again, a little louder. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” William whispered.

She moaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Mmm, what time is it?”

William looked at the clock on the wall and cringed, “Twelve after three. Sorry, pet. Didn’t mean for you to wait up for me. Hell, wasn’t plannin’ on being out that long either.”

She gave him a quick peck on the lips, letting him know she wasn’t upset.

As he sat down beside her, she curled up against him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.

“So, how’d it go?” Buffy asked, nonchalantly.

“Bloody horrible, luv,” William said as he leaned his head back.

“Oh.” She obviously wasn’t expecting that. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, laying her head on his chest.

There was a moment of silence.

“I got the gig, pet.”

Buffy’s head whipped up, “But, you just said -”

William grinned, “I know. But -”

She interrupted, smacking him lightly on the chest, “You were leading me on. Trying to make me feel all sorry for you.”

She gave a little pout and William chuckled lightly, “Look at that lip. Gonna get it.”

His hand moved to the back of her head and pulled her lips to his. She moaned into his mouth and allowed him to sidetrack her for a moment before pulling away.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t try to distract me with the smoochies, mister. Now, tell me what happened.”

He gave a big dramatic sigh and planted a quick kiss before regaling her with the tale.


Interview 1999

….and, somehow, I got the gig….

*********


Now, despite his adamancy that the audition was horrible beyond belief, that he totally bombed it, the opposite was quite true. Of course, they didn’t know it at the time, but Angel would be telling interviewers for years how it just clicked for him when he heard William sing.

Red Edge decided instantly when William was finished that he was the one. So, yes, that took a grand total of approximately ten minutes.

Of course, Buffy asked what happened during the last eight hours before he came back.

The band was adamant that they got to know one another. That they formed the bond needed for a band as soon as possible.

So, he did.


Interview 2005

Angel’s a bloody fantastic liar. That ad he placed said the band was about to sign to a record deal. They just needed a lead singer…


1994

It was a few months after William got the gig with Red Edge. And tonight, after endless nights of practice, it would be his first performance with them. Buffy and Dawn, William’s younger sister and Buffy’s new best friend, entered the club together. They wanted to be there to support him.

“I wonder why Will didn’t want us to come,” Dawn said as she and Buffy found a table in the middle of the room, with a perfect view of the stage.

Buffy did find that a little odd, as well. Especially since he was initially so proud to be in the band. But lately, he would get upset whenever she asked how practice was going. But she could never figure out why. They were only going to play a small set, consisting of only a few songs. William tried to pass it off as unimportant, not worthy of the girls’ time. She knew he wouldn’t be expecting them. He thought he had convinced her to make other plans tonight. But, if he thought she was going to miss this, he had another thing coming.

“I don’t know,” Buffy said as she looked at the eighteen year old.

And so, they made small talk as they waited for Red Edge to take the stage. Both girls had a love for art. Dawn was an aspiring artist, and of course, Buffy was working on her art history degree.

“So, what do you think of Warhol?” Dawn asked, focusing the conversation on the topic the girls loved most.

Buffy’s nose scrunched up. “Personally? A little overrated. But, also, Pop Art? So not my thing. Give me an Artemesia any day. Although I wouldn’t say no to a little Redon.”

“Who?”

“Odilon Redon.” Her eyebrow arched, “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him?”

Dawn shook her head.

“He was a French Symbolist artist during the 1800’s. Remind me and I’ll show you some of his works.”

“Alright.”

“Have you decided whether or not you’re going to pursue your art?” Buffy asked.

Dawn shrugged, “I don’t know. I want to, but then…I don’t know…not sure if I…have what it takes, you know?”

“Well, I think you should. Will showed me some of your work, and I think it’s amazing. You’re a talented artist. You have a good eye.”

Dawn smiled, “Really? Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome. And William is really proud of you.”

Dawn blushed at the compliment. “Oh, there he is,” Dawn said, as the emcee announced them, relieved to have something distract the conversation. The five piece band joined the emcee on the stage and took their positions.

William stood in front of the microphone, nerves beginning to stir. Please, don’t screw up, he thought. He just wasn’t sure who he was more worried about. Himself or the rest of the band. His eyes flitted across the audience and immediately landed on his girl and sister. He inwardly groaned. The bloody chit lied to him. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to sing.


Buffy grinned widely as she watched her boyfriend begin.


I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain
I'm comin' on like a hurricane
My lightning's flashing across the sky
You're only young but you're gonna die

Buffy and Dawn looked at each other, silently asking each other the same question. Okay, this could be why William didn’t want either of them to be there. He was embarrassed. Not because of his performance. No. That wasn‘t it.

I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives
Nobody's putting up a fight
I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell
I'm gonna get you, Satan get you


Interview 2005

…turns out they were nothing more than a bad covers band…who did a lot of AC/DC...


1994

William scanned the crowd. It took him no more than mere seconds to pick them out. Of course, spotting them while he was on stage made it easy. He took a deep breath before making his way over to their table.

Dawn noticed him first, grinned widely and motioned for him crazily. Buffy followed Dawn’s wild gestures and smiled at him. When he got to the table, he dropped a quick kiss to her lips before taking a seat in the empty chair.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be here?” he asked.

Buffy simply shrugged, “Why wouldn’t we be here?”

“We just wanted to hear you guys,” said Dawn.

William cringed, “We suck.”

Buffy promptly shook her head, “No, you don’t.”

“Luv, yeah, we bloody suck.” And he was firm in the belief. He thought back to their performance. And winced. “Tim was off beat. The rhythm guitar was out of tune. The tempo kept fluctuating. Please tell me you noticed this, too.”

Buffy and Dawn shared a look. Okay…yeah…they noticed. It didn’t take someone gifted in music to hear all that.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” Dawn stated matter-of-factly. “It’s only your first performance. Things are bound to be a little shaky.”

“Bit, we sounded like that since the first rehearsal.”

“Oh.”

He continued, “If it wasn’t for Angel, we would have completely fallen apart right there on stage for all to see.”

“Still think you need to give it some more time,” Dawn interjected. She looked up, “So, who’s tall, dark, and handsome and headed our way?”

“Who?” William turned around and noticed Angel moving towards their table.

The men gave a quick tilt of their heads to acknowledge each other. William turned to the girls, “I don’t supposed either of you have met Angel. Girls, Angel. Angel, this is Buffy, my girlfriend, and Dawn, my sister.”

“Pleasure to meet you both. Um, do you mind if I borrow Will here for a moment?”

“No, go ahead. We’ll wait,” Buffy said.

William nodded and followed Angel as they headed for a darker corner of the club, away from prying ears. “What’s this all about?” William asked.

“What do you think of tonight’s performance?” Angel asked quietly.

William just cast him a look.

Angel nodded, “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. We suck.”

“And not getting any better.”

“Their hearts are in the right place…but there’s no talent, you know?”

William nodded. He respected Angel’s musical opinion. The night they met, he learned about Angel’s talent as a multi-instrumentalist, specializing in the keyboards and guitar. And he also did some music producing as a day job. Small stuff, nothing real big. Although that was a huge dream of his.

William may not have the musical background like Angel, but within the few months of being in the band, he learned a lot. He learned all the industry talk. He learned about music. Things he barely remembered from his school days were revived. Angel was an excellent teacher.

“But you,” Angel continued. “You’ve got talent. Amazing talent.”

William blushed silently at the compliment, still not used to being paid such praise. “You’re not bad yourself, mate.”

“Thanks. I was thinking… This is something I’ve been wanting to do for a while, but I’ve been looking for someone to work with. And, I think I finally found that person. Will, I think we should split from the band.”


End Chapter Two


A/N: The song William was singing was AC/DC’s Hells Bells. I don’t really know any of their songs. I just surfed online and found the lyrics and thought, okay, why not…

And, please forgive all the art history references I will probably continue to make throughout the story…it’s my major as well as Buffy’s so….and her opinions tend to reflect my own…

Chapter Three : Open Doors


1994

“Leave the band?” William asked.

“Yeah. Form our own group. Hell, we don’t necessarily need to do it right away, if you don‘t want to. But I fully intend to leave, whether you want to or not.”

“What brought this on, mate?”

Angel shrugged, “I feel like it’s well past time to grow, musically. And we’re kinda stuck in a rut with this band. I’ve been wanting to write my own stuff. I thought that’s what the rest of the band wanted, too, but… all they seem to really want to do is play some AC/DC songs.”

William smirked, “Yeah, noticed that.”

Angel laughed. “Hey, have you ever tried writing any lyrics?”

That was another thing they discussed when they first met. When he learned of William’s penchant for writing, especially poetry, Angel surprisingly didn’t laugh and poke fun at William as so many other guys did. Instead, he encouraged William to try his hand at writing lyrics.

You never know, Angel had said, there might be a few songs in him just dying to get out.

William was surprised at how naturally it seemed to come to him. Though he hadn’t shown anyone yet, not even Buffy, he felt confident in himself.

“Yeah, lil’ bit. Depends on my inspiration, yeah?” He looked across the club at Buffy and could not stop the smile that came across his face as he watched her animated conversation with Dawn.

Angel caught it and followed William’s gaze. “So, uh…did you finally get it?” He found it somewhat awkward talking about something that wasn’t music-related with the man beside him. They did it so infrequently.

“Wha’? Oh, yeah. Took several of my paychecks from the music store, but I got it.”


************

So, demand for Red Edge wasn’t great. William didn’t really care. After the talk he had with Angel about possibly splitting from the band, the two of them started to spend some of their free time working together, combining William’s lyrics to Angel’s music. William also finally told Buffy about his lyrical writings and even let her read some of them. Sometimes he even sang them to her.

She liked that…

************

William smiled as he watched Buffy talk spiritedly with her fellow art history majors.

“I’m telling you. I don’t care what Brisson’s so-called measurements say. There is no way that Francesca’s egg is a chicken egg. All you have to do is look at the perspective of the painting and you can tell it’s way too big. An ostrich egg makes much more sense. Especially considering the history around their donation to churches,” Buffy said adamantly.

One of the girls she was talking with spoke, “What if it’s not an egg at all. What if it’s a pearl.”

Buffy contemplated the girl’s theory, “Yeah. I can see that possibility. The giant shell. The purity of a pearl. Definitely makes more sense than a chicken egg. What’s holy about that?” She gave a small laugh.

She was so passionate. Passionate about everything. Art, life, love, him.

Yes, he could admit that she truly did feel the same as he did for her. But, still, was it too soon?

His hand gripped the velvet box hidden in his pocket. He had it for weeks, after spending several more weeks saving up for it. Now, all he had to do was pluck up the courage and ask her. But, what would she say? Yes, they were only twenty-one. Most people would say that was too young. Hell, they were still in college, albeit for only one more year.

He did know, though, that he couldn’t imagine life without her.

She was it for him. She was the one.

Okay, he thought, now how do I ask her? Could he do it here, right now, in front of her friends? Should he wait until tonight at the club, ask her on stage? Or, when they’re alone? And, how should he ask her? Should he go the traditional route and get down on one knee? Should he have it literally written in the sky?

Damn it, why was it so bloody hard? He should just do what came naturally. Except… he didn’t go around proposing everyday.

William watched almost helplessly as Buffy noticed him, smiled lovingly, bid farewell to her friends, and made her way towards him.

“Hey,” Buffy said.

“What are they teaching you in that class? First the Devil and sex and now chicken eggs?”

She smiled. “First, the Devil and sex were for a different class. And it’s just iconography. Nothing more,” she finished, leaning up to kiss him.

He moaned into the kiss, deepening it, not caring they were in the middle of the corridor as fellow students watched with interest as they made their ways to classes.

“Marry me,” he whispered against her lips.

Surprised, Buffy tore her lips from his, “W-What?”

Okay, so this was it. He could try to change the subject, make her forget what he just said. Or, he could go though with it. Well…he started it, so…he might as well finish it, right? He just hoped he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front of everyone else.

He cleared his throat. With his hand slipping into his pocket, he took a small step back and found himself down on one knee. He was vaguely aware of everyone stopping to watch the show in front of them; he was focused on Buffy.

Her breathing increased as her anxiety slowly took hold. “William?” she asked shakily. “What…what is this?”

He pulled the precious velvet box from his pocket. He looked down at it, contemplating his words. “Buffy, luv, um…I know it’s probably too early and everything. But…” he swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to get the rest of the words out. He took the ring out of the box and heard the gasp of Buffy, as well as several other female students. “But, it…it would make me the happiest man on earth if you’d marry me.” He held the ring out, hand shaking as he awaited her response.

“Will…”

Her hesitation nearly killed him. Of course, his inner voice chided, you’re going to make a huge fool out of yourself. He moved to get up, “It’s okay. It’s too ear-”

“Of course, it’s yes!” Buffy exclaimed, a huge smile on her face.

William was surprised for a moment, not sure he heard correctly. “Yes?”

Buffy nodded, her eyes tearing up. “Yes,” she whispered.

A huge grin broke out on his face as he stood and slipped the ring on her finger. She threw her arms around him and he returned the hug with equal fervor. Buffy pulled back enough to pull him into a deep kiss, heedless to the cheers they were both receiving from the gathering crowd.

END CHAPTER THREE

A/N: The argument Buffy is having pertains to a Renaissance painting by Piero della Francesca’s Montefeltro Altarpiece. And it’s a real argument that art historians have had. Is it a chicken or ostrich egg? It’s quite amusing how nasty the scholars would get towards each other in their articles.

Chapter Four - End of the Road


Interview 1998

The summer of ninety-four was a big time for me…

A lot of things happened…


1994

William had been working with Angel and Red Edge for nearly a year now. Things were never truly going well. But, of course, that didn’t mean they couldn’t get worse. Which they did. Things within the band were getting increasingly tense. It felt like everyone couldn’t agree on everything. Practices were often getting cut short or cancelled all together because someone said something someone else didn’t like. Mostly, it had to do with music. Of course, didn’t it always?

William and Angel were still writing music together and still intending to leave the band. They had yet to inform the rest of the band. William was beginning to believe that the time was definitely closing in for them to officially call it quits with Red Edge. Things were not going to improve, despite everyone’s adamancy that it would.

Graduation had come and gone. William had found himself hired at a publishing house. And he hated every minute of it… What started out years ago as a dream now turned into a burden. A necessary evil to pay the bills.


Interview 2002

My parents - they wanted me to be a bloody lawyer. Then, of course, I went against that an’ majored in English Literature.

But they grew to tolerate that.

So…imagine their despair when I said, “Mum, Da’ - I’m going to be a rockstar.”



1994

William found in the short time he’d been with Red Edge, his dreams severely shifted. His dreams changed.

Hell, he’d changed.

William seemed to have blossomed in college and even more so with the band. He gained a confidence he never had before. His shyness was tempered.

His dream before - becoming a writer - now was music. Instead of novels and poetry, he spent his time writing lyrics.

He and Angel were becoming increasingly serious about their music. They believed they had a chance. A chance to actually become something.


*************

Interview 2002

Da’ was like, ‘You’re gonna end up in the bloody gutter!’


1994

“Hey, Mum,” William said as she answered the phone.

“William? How have you been? How’s Buffy?” Anne asked.

“Good. She’s good. I just thought I’d call. See how things are with you and Da’. Let you two in on something big that’s been happenin’.”

“We’re good. Should-should I get your father on the other phone? Is the wedding still happening?”

“Yeah. That’s still on. No problems with that. You know that, Mum. You’ve been helpin’ us out. And, yeah, if Da’ wants to hear, he can.”

“Okay.” He heard her pull the phone from her face and yell. “Rupert! Your son’s on the phone. Wants to talk to both of us.” Some more noise. “He’s coming, dear.”

“Hey, son,” his father said as he picked up the other phone.

“Hey, Da’. I know I should probably tell you guys this in person, but -”

Anne interrupted, “Is Buffy pregnant?”

“No, Mum. Nothing like that. This doesn’t have anything to do with her. This is about me.”

“Well, what is it?” Giles asked.

“Mum, Da’, I’m gonna be a rockstar.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before his mother spoke, “William, are-are you saying…what are you saying?”

“You guys remember when I told you about this band I’ve been singin’ for?”

“Yeah. The Red something or other,” his father said.

“Yeah. Red Edge. Well, anyway, this guy in the band, Angel, and I have been working together, writing our own music. And we’re thinking - no, we’re going to take this to the professional level. We’re going to be rock stars.”

“Honey, we don’t want you to be disappointed. But don’t get your hopes -”

“Mum. It’s okay. It’s going to happen. I know it’s going to happen.”


Interview 1999

Angel and I came to a decision…


1994

It was two weeks before William was set to marry Buffy. And, tonight, he and Angel were going to finally do it.


Interview 1999

It was risk. A bloody huge one. But it was one we both were willing to take…

The time had long since come…



June 1994

He and Angel had called the other members of Red Edge to an impromptu meeting at Angel’s flat.

William wouldn’t say it aloud, but he was nervous about how the rest of the band would take the news. He envisioned badly.

“So, uh, why are we here?” Timothy asked once everyone was settled.

William glanced at Angel, before standing, his nerves causing him to pace the room. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “Angel and I…we’ve been thinking. For a while now. And we’ve reached a decision. Now, understand, we’ve put a lot of thought into this and -”

“We’re leaving the band,” Angel interrupted.

There was silence.

Then the explosion.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“What the fuck!”

“Shit!”

After that, it was indistinct as everyone yelled at everyone else. Blaming everyone else.

“Hey!” William yelled over the cacophony, getting everyone’s attention. “Look, mates, admit it, lately the band…well, let’s be honest, we suck. We’ve always sucked. And, all this arguin’ we’ve been doin’ is also showin’ itself on the bloody stage. We’re fallin’ apart. We’ve been getting less and less gigs. Not that we were getting a lot to begin with. No one wants to hire a band that bloody sucks. I don’t know…maybe we’ve just reached the end of this road.” He took a deep breath.

“William is also trying to say that we’ve been writing together. What we’ve got is really coming together.”

“It just doesn’t include us. Is that what you’re saying?” Sean asked.

“Uh,” Angel hesitated. He then nodded, “Yeah. It-it doesn’t.”


**********

William entered the flat he shared with Buffy. He dropped his keys on the table next to the door, giving a big sigh.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” Buffy asked from her seat on the sofa.

His hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he made his way to her, “Well…it could have gone worse, I suppose.”

She looked at him as he plopped down beside her, “Well, you can’t blame them for being upset…and angry?”

He nodded, both in agreement and to answer her question, “I know, luv, but if Angel and I didn’t do this, we probably would have still ended up breaking up the band.”

Buffy nodded, considering this. “Yeah, you guys haven’t exactly been buddy-buddy lately. So, uh, what are you two going to do now?”

William shook his head, “I’m not sure. Guess that’s the next step we need to take… figure things out.”

Buffy smiled, “Probably be best. So, any ideas?”

“None.” He was silent for a moment before leaning his head back, eyes closed, and groaning, “I swear, this is bloody frustrating.”

His eyes snapped open when he felt Buffy straddle his lap, “Well…if you’d like, I could help you…relieve some of those…frustrations,” she said, looking at him from behind hooded eyes.

He grinned and reached for her lips, “Guess you could.”


END CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE - Do you?


July 1994

So…finally the day was here.

And the wedding.

It was to be a simple ceremony. Just close relatives and friends. Neither of them wanted anything bigger.

It was another nervous day for William since the split from Red Edge two weeks ago, and for more reasons. Not only was he marrying the girl of his dreams, but he was also meeting said girl’s parents for the first time.

Joyce and Hank saved for several months to have enough money to fly to London to watch their daughter get married, even though they shared similar reservations his parents did about the timing of the marriage.

William remembered when he told his parents he was getting married, the first thing they asked was “Is she pregnant?” Just as they did every time he called. Buffy’s parents asked the same when she phoned them.

But that didn’t matter. It was done. In the past.

Today was a day of celebration. And nothing could ruin that.


************

William was pacing the small bedroom as he waited for the ceremony to begin. His parents had finally decided to allow the wedding to take place in their backyard after much coaxing from both William and Buffy.

There was a quiet knock before the door opened and his sister’s head popped in, “William?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

Dawn entered the room, “Just thought I’d let you know that Mr. and Mrs. Summers are here. I’m assuming you’ll wanna meet them before you actually marry their only daughter.”

“Thank you, ‘Bit. I’ll-I’ll be down in a sec.”

“Okay. I’ll let them know.” She left, closing the door behind her.

William stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking in his appearance. His dress suit was impeccable. The black tie was perfectly straight, as he should know after spending the better part of an hour messing with it. His unruly locks were tamed, or as much as they could be. He took a deep breath.

Time to meet the future in-laws.

************

“Mr. and Mrs. Summers?”

Joyce and Hank turned around to face the young man in the dress suit.

“I take it you’d be William?” Hank asked.

William swallowed, trying to qualm his nerves. “Uh, yeah. Yes, I’m William Giles.” He held his hand out, grateful when Mr. Summers grasped it and gave a firm shake.

“I’m Hank.”

William gave a nod. And before he realized it, Mrs. Summers engulfed him in a hug. After his initial shock quickly wore off, he reciprocated the hug.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Buffy has been going on and on about you since the two of you met. She loves you,” Joyce said, smiling brightly as she pulled away from the impromptu hug.

William felt a smile widen on his face, “Feeling’s definitely mutual, Mrs. Summers.”

“Oh, please, call me Joyce.”

************

Buffy spun around in front of the mirror, surveying her dress. Dawn stood behind her, observing her reflection, having just entered the room. Buffy caught her eyes in the mirror and broke out into a smile.

“How do I look?”

“You look absolutely gorgeous and you know it. Will is going to go nuts when he sees your dress.”

If it was possible, Buffy’s smile grew even wider at the mention of her soon-to-be-husband. “God, I’m so happy. I can’t believe the day’s finally here.”

Her excitement was contagious and Dawn broke into an equally huge grin. “I’m happy for you, too. And William,” Dawn said. She leaned in conspiratorially, “You know, I really think you’re the one for my brother. You’ve really brought him out of his shell. He was quite the wallflower before he met you.”

The door opened and Anne stuck her head in, “Buffy, dear, it’s time. Are you ready?”

“Yep,” Buffy said, bobbing her head up and down ecstatically. “Let’s go get married.”

************

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”


************

The door to the room swung open easily. William turned to his new bride and, without warning, scooped her into his arms. Buffy let out a gasp, “Will! What are you doing?”

“Well, it’s tradition, isn’t it?” He stepped across the threshold to the hotel room. “No reason to mess with it.”

He placed her back on the ground and closed the door behind him. His hands moved to her waist and they stood there, feeling somewhat awkward.

Buffy gave a slightly nervous smile, “Now what?”

He chuckled slightly. “Feels different, doesn’t it?”

She gave a nod, “Yeah. That’s what I was thinking. But then, why should it? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

“Just not as husband and wife,” William said, with a smile.

His smile was contagious. “Yeah,” Buffy said, grinning widely. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. And that was all it took to vanquish their nerves. William moaned into the kiss, as Buffy traced his lips with her tongue, begging entrance, which he eagerly granted. Lips fused, their hands began to wander. Buffy’s hands roamed across his shoulders, pushing his jacket out of the way. He released his hold on her briefly to shrug out of the jacket before replacing his hands against her back, moving to the zipper of her dress.

His kisses moved from her lips to her neck and jaw, lapping and nipping gently, as his hands deftly unzipped the dress and pushed the dress off her shoulders and to the ground. William pulled back to look at her, clad in only a pair of lacy panties. She blushed under his gaze.

“Beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful wife,” William whispered reverently as he once again closed the distance between them, pulling her in his arms, moving towards the bed.

************

William rolled over, gasping for breath, pulling Buffy close to him.

“Wow,” Buffy gasped as she laid her head on his chest.

He gave a small chuckle and the two fell into comfortable silence, each enjoying the new martial bliss.

“Sorry we can’t afford anything more than this,” William whispered, referring to the hotel room they were in. He had wanted to be able to take his wife to some exotic location, where they could spend the next two weeks alone. Just the two of them. Unfortunately, he couldn’t.

Buffy raised her head to look at him, “This? It doesn’t matter to me where we go. Or for how long. I just want to be with you. That’s all that matters.”

“You sure, pet?”

“Of course,” Buffy said, leaning in to kiss him.

“I promise though, luv, things will be different. They’ll change. And we’ll have more than just a weekend in a hotel room.”


END CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Six - Perchance to Dream


Interview 2000

We sent out a hundred and fifty demo tapes…

November 1994

Acid Reign.

That was the name they agreed on after a long and arduous discussion. It wasn’t their first choice, but, as it turned out, that name was already being used by another band. So…Acid Reign it was.

And, since a name was chosen, William and Angel found themselves trying to put together a demo tape. They had written enough material to do so.

Money to do the tape, however, was a different story. In that, they didn’t have any. William was still working days at the publishing house and Angel still produced for small local bands but they didn’t have money to spare. Especially William and his bride, because Buffy decided she wanted to go for her Master’s and potentially her Ph.D. And William supported her decision. It wasn’t hard for him to do so. She had done it for him, and, lately, had to deal with his considerable lack of presence because of the demo tape. William felt horrible about it, but she assured him countless times it was okay. She had classes a lot of the time anyway. She knew this was a huge dream for him, just as he understood her passion for art.

So, it was mutual understanding between the two of them that they had to let the other follow their dreams.


********

“I’ve seen the other girls in the magazines, yeah
But that kind of beauty is not my style, no
The way you’re looking at me
I guess I can’t believe it
You know, I’m usually shy
But I’m willing to try
Girl, I think I want you

I don’t want to take you home
I just want someone to call my own…”


“Alright. I got it,” Angel said.

William stepped away from the microphone placed inside an empty closet in their make-shift studio at Angel‘s. Their money issue was solved when Angel suggested one day that they could use his place. They couldn’t afford to use an actual studio, so they could simply bring the studio home. After all, with Angel’s job, acquiring the equipment for temporary use wasn’t so difficult.

They had been working on this demo tape for months and it was finally finished.

Thank the bloody heavens, William thought to himself. This had been tedious. And at times, felt completely not worth it. The constant re-recording, adjusting, readjusting, rearranging, rewriting, cutting, mixing.

But it had to be perfect. After all, no respectable label would sign you if you sucked… Well…most of the time…

“So, mate, about how many of these do you think we should send out?”

Angel leaned back in his chair, “Well…”


********

One hundred and fifty turned out to be the magic number. Demo tapes were sent to any and every label and person they could think of. Big and small.

Atlantic. Universal. BMG. RCA. Columbia. Along with several other big ones and several independent labels.

They didn’t want to leave any leaf unturned. Their future and dreams were riding on this.


********

A few weeks later

“Hey, mate, we got ‘nother letter,” William said, walking into Angel’s studio.

“Who’s it from?” Angel asked, nervous anxiety tinting his voice.

“Umm, Sony Columbia USA,” William said, tearing into the envelope.

Angel jumped to his feet and walked closer to William, moving excitedly like a little kid. This letter could potentially be the single most important letter in both their lives.

“Well? What does it say?” Angel asked as William looked over the letter.

“…thank you for your…blah, blah, bloody blah….Unfortunately, we must, at the present time, reject your….”

Both men sighed, greatly disappointed. William crumbled up the letter and tossed it in the trash.

“That makes how many?”

Interview 2000

….and received one hundred and fifty bloody rejection letters…


December 1994

Rejection was hard. It was tough. It was downright cruel.

William decided all this after he and Angel received all those rejection letters.

Needless to say, both men were feeling a little down and disheartened. Maybe, William slowly, reluctantly decided, it simply wasn’t meant to be. He resigned himself to working at his present job. As much as he hated it, he was insanely glad he had the presence of mind not to quit before anything was confirmed.

Or denied, as the case ended up.

Of course, Buffy wouldn’t have let him just up and quit anyway without anything guaranteed first.

Speaking of Buffy, she felt just as horrible as they did about the mountain of rejection letters Acid Reign received. She understood it was huge blow to William’s confidence and self-esteem. She hated watching him resignedly going to work everyday at a place he detested. She wanted to tell him it was okay. It didn’t matter. Everything would correct itself. Just give it time. But she didn’t want to lie to him either. And she didn’t want to give him any false hope.

She didn’t want to watch him fall again.


**********

It was a cold evening. A week away form Christmas. William and Buffy laid together, cuddled up on the sofa. They were laying in comfortable silence, watching the lights flicker, sparkle, alternate on their little Christmas tree. It would be their first Christmas together as husband and wife and while they didn’t have much money, they were determined to not have that let them down.

“William?” Buffy asked quietly, not wanting to break the spell.

“Yeah, pet?”

“I’m…I’m sorry it didn’t go the way you were hoping. I know you’re disappointed. But maybe -”

The phone rang, disturbing them. William groaned in frustration and reached over to the end table, grabbing the phone.

“Yeah?”

He listened quietly, “Tomorrow? Yeah, I should be able to. Yeah….okay, mate. See ya then.” The call ended and he hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” Buffy asked, turning around so she was facing him.

He gave her a quick kiss, “Angel. Wants me to meet him at the studio tomorrow. I don’t know why. He didn’t say.” He shrugged his shoulders.

**********

“So, mate, why the cryptic phone call?” William asked as he entered the studio, taking off his jacket.

Angel ceased his conversation with the other unfamiliar man in the room and looked at him. The man beside him smiled in greeting. He looked professional, dressed properly in a business suit and necktie, wire framed glasses perched on his nose.

“Who are you?” William asked.

The man walked towards him, hand outstretched, “You must be Mr. Giles.”

“William,” he said, instinctively.

“Er, of course, William. I’m Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.”

William grasped his hand and shook it firmly. “Okay. So, uh, what’s going on?” He stole a glance at Angel, who was currently sporting a huge grin on his face.

“Of course. I was just discussing it with your partner when you arrived. I, er, managed to procure one of your demos from a friend of mine. And, I have to say, I was very impressed with what I heard. I understand, however, from Mr. Crawford here, that most were not?”

“…Yeah…” William was hesitant. This Wyndham-Pryce bloke couldn’t be saying what he thought he was saying. Could he?

“Mr. Giles, I believe Acid Reign is in need of some serious financial backing. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

Wesley smiled, “Very well. I’d like to work with you.”



Author’s Notes: The song William sings in this chapter belongs to Savage Garden. It could be found on their actual demo tape that they sent out. It is called “Aubergine Girl.” I was given a copy by a friend who got a copy from who knows where and while the quality isn’t the best, I believe the lyrics are accurate or pretty close to it.

Author's Note:Sorry about not posting last week. I was out of town. Just got back last night after a fun-filled *insert sarcasm* roadtrip in the snow...And, now, I think I'm getting sick...goodie...




Chapter Seven: Potential



Interview 2005

Now, you have to remember. That’s how my career got started.



1994

“You would? You’d like to work…with us?” William asked, surprised. Last night, he was beginning to let go of the dream, believing it to never be possible. He was beginning to believe he was one of those who could not achieve the impossible. And now, this man, this stranger in front of him was telling him he wanted to finance them?

Was he dreaming? Still?

Wesley smiled, “Yes, I would. I believe you boys have serious talent. Something unique. The labels might not see it. But I do.”

“You do?” William dumbly repeated. He refused to let himself believe. After months and months of hoping that maybe, just maybe, this letter or the next letter would be good news, he found himself questioning. Cautious. William looked at the normally stoic Angel, who was smiling and nodding.

“That’s right,” Wesley said. He stepped forward, removing his glasses, “Now, should we talk business?”


*************

William drove home in a daze. He and Angel spent the entire afternoon with Wyndham-Pryce. He seemed legitimate. Wasn’t pulling their legs. Wasn’t stringing them along. Wasn’t going to go behind their backs tonight and have a good laugh at their gullibility.

They spent the time negotiating. Going over things.

Business.

Turned out Wyndham-Pryce was friends with one of those important guys over at EMI Records, the ones who decided whether or not you were good enough. Apparently, this guy thought they had that thing called potential. It was a pesky thing. Potential. While it hinted at promises, it was never written in stone. So much depended on this potential to grow from mere possibility to reality.

If the stars were misaligned. If your package was lost in the post. If you did or didn’t send the best songs you could have. If you miss that one big note that could make or break the song. If that guy, the one holding your future in his hands, has a bad day or not. If he even gets to your demo tape.

And, of course, the most important thing… if your music has the potential to sell.

And sell well. That was most important. You could have all the talent in the world, but if your music didn’t have the potential to sell, well, as they say, don’t quit your day job.

But, he, this guy who said they had potential, was only one guy…the others said ‘no.’ The ones who had more power. Acid Reign wasn’t what they were looking for at the present time. They wouldn’t bring them the money. The public was not interested in their style. So, this faceless guy, the one who wanted them, played the tape for Wesley. He knew Wesley was looking for another band to finance. He knew Wesley would give them a chance. Even though he could not. No matter how much he wanted to.

And Wesley, it turned out, used to be a music producer for ones of those major labels a while back. He was huge. He knew talent when he heard it. He molded several musicians sent his way into international superstars. But now, he used his considerable profits to help turn small bands into not-so-small bands.

And he wanted Acid Reign.



And so, this was it. William wasn’t merely dreaming. He was living his dream. Everything was beginning to pay off.

He couldn’t wait to tell Buffy.



Interview 2005

We had an independent financial backer.

We didn’t have a label.



1994

“Buffy, love? You home?” William asked as he entered their flat, dropping his keys on the table near the door.

“In the kitchen.”

He smiled and followed her voice. He found her at the stove, wooden spoon in hand as she raised it to her mouth to take a quick taste test of the stew. Her face scrunched up in distaste.

“Needs more salt,” she mumbled to herself.

William moved towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his chest and pressing kisses along the side of her neck. His hands wandered to her the back of her neck and into her hair. He pulled her hair free from the band holding it and let it cascade down her shoulders. His kisses across her neck grew in intensity and she moaned, dropping the spoon somewhere in the vicinity of the stove.

“William,” Buffy moaned.

“Hey, pet,” he whispered before reaching around to place a kiss on her lips.

“What’d Angel want?”

The grin appeared on his face before he could stop. “We had a meeting today.”

“Really? With who?” Buffy asked, turning around to face him.

“A bloke named Wyndam-Pryce. Apparently, he saw potential.”

A smile slowly graced her face. “You mean-”

He nodded, “Yeah. He wants to give us money. Help us out.”

Buffy reached up and gave him a kiss before giggling, happy.

“It’s not a major label deal, but we have to start somewhere, right?”

She nodded excitedly, “We need to celebrate. Let’s go out.”

“Luv, what about -” he gestured to the saucepan still on the stove.

She shrugged, reaching behind her to turn it off. “Doomed from the beginning. So, where do you want to go?”

A hand trailed down her arm before grasping her waist, holding her tightly to his body, “I…think I just want to stay in.” He leaned in and kissed her briefly before once again, tracing a line of kisses and nips across her jaw and down her neck.

She tilted her head, allowing him better access, moaning when he reached a particularly erogenous area. “I, uh, I think I can live with that,” she whispered huskily.

He grinned against her neck, before running his hands down her body, hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

“Good, pet.”

Her laughter could be throughout their home as he carried her to their bed.



Interview 1997

And there you have it.


END CHAPTER SEVEN

Authori's Notes: Not a whole lot of action going on here...more of an interlude...


Chapter Eight : Spike

Interview 1997

I was working at the publishing house, singing under my breath. You know, how you sometimes do. And somebody walked up to me and said, ‘Don’t quit your day job.’

And…quite literally, when they said that, our song came on the radio.

It was an amazing feeling.

I knew then, at that moment…it was really happening.



July 1996


I’m the kind of person who endorses a deep commitment
Getting comfy getting perfect is what I live for
But a look and then the smell of perfume
It’s like I’m down on the floor
And I don’t know what I’m in for

Conversation has a time and place
In the interaction of a lover and a mate
It’s a time of talking using symbols using words
Can be likened to a deep sea diver
Who is swimming with a rainco-


William quickly reached over and slapped off the radio. It was just too weird for him to hear his own voice coming through the speakers. Too unreal. Like he was dreaming. The band’s first single was released three weeks ago and was already in the number four slot on the national charts. It was mind boggling.

Shortly after Acid Reign began recording with Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, they were introduced to a friend of his. A friend who just so happened to own a record label. Rough Trade Records. It might have only been an independent label that dealt only with British bands. It might not deal with the international market, but it was definitely a step in the right direction, if the national success of their single was any indication.

And it better be, since today he was glad to say he quit his job at that dreaded publishing house.

And now, William stood in front of the full-length mirror on the eve of their very first televised performance, judging his changed appearance.

It was different.

The wavy mousy brown locks were gone. As were the glasses and the khakis. In their place was something sexier, more mysterious. More fitting of a rock star, William truly believed. Bleach blond hair slicked back; contact lenses replaced the wire-framed glasses. Black jeans and t-shirt replaced the khakis and button-downs. And to top it all off, the handsome black leather duster he found on sale.

Staring at the mirror, William barely recognized himself. It was as though William was gone. No longer present. In his place was someone completely new, someone completely different.

Some part of him felt this new person, this alter-ego, needed a name. A personality. But what? He thought back to his days in high school. His personal days in hell. When everyone seemed to have gotten a kick out of harassing him, humiliating him. It was no secret during that time that he was always writing in his journals. Poetry. Prose. It didn’t matter. It was a way of expressing himself in ways he couldn’t outwardly. His classmates, however, made fun of him for it. Called him effeminate, a ponce, a nancy-boy, anything else they could think of, embarrassed him with public readings of his poetry. They called him William the Bloody, because “of his bloody awful poetry.” He remembered someone - he no longer remembered who exactly and besides, did it really matter? - made a comment about rather having a railroad spike shoved through their heads than listen to his work.

That was it.

Spike.

Somehow, it fit. Maybe more so than he originally thought. Because, after all, they all made fun of his poetry and other writings, but now, his writings helped propel him to where he was now.

So now, Spike had a new look and a new name. But he was still apprehensive. No one had seen his new look yet. Would they laugh? Would Buffy love it? Or hate it? Spike knew he was enough of a love’s bitch that if she hated it, he’d changed back in a heartbeat.

And let’s not forget that trip he was to take tomorrow. God, he was terrified he was going to fuck it up. Spike had been living with the irrational fear the past few days that whatever could go wrong was going to go wrong. That was the fate of the universe, wasn’t it? That’s what Murphy said, anyway.

He and Angel had been rehearsing for weeks on end when they were asked if they would like to take this trip.

It’s really happening, he thought to himself. Bloody hell.

He ran a hand through his shorter slicked-back locks as he continued to stare at himself in the mirror, still unused to his new appearance. He released a huge sigh.

Spike heard the front door open and his wife call his name.

“In here, luv,” he called out.

“Hey, Will. How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Buffy asked, as she rounded the corner. Concern tinted her voice. She was worried about him. Was just as nervous as he was. He knew it. And he was thankful for it. At least he wasn’t alone in this.

She halted when he caught sight of his changed appearance. Spike stood still, self-conscious as she continued to stare at him.

Okay, so she was speechless. But, was it the you’re-a-sexy-devil kind of speechless or one of those oh-my-god-what-have-you-done-to-yourself reactions? Spike wasn’t sure yet. And he wasn’t going to be sure unless she said something. He hoped she said something good, but at this point, he would take anything.

“Um, luv?” he asked nervously.

Buffy seemed to give herself a little shake and moved swiftly towards him. And before he knew it, her lips were on his.

Of course, he wasn’t complaining. He immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Buffy gave a small moan and weaved her fingers through his locks. But, before they could go any further, she slowly broke away to look at him. She gave him a grin, “So, um, what brought this on?”

Spike shrugged slightly, “’m not sure, love. Just decided I needed a change.”

“Well, I like it.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p.’ “You look really hot.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed.




END CHAPTER EIGHT


A/N: The lyrics used are from “I Want You” by Savage Garden…

Also, according to the quick research I did, their record label, Rough Trade Records, was actually temporarily defunct at the time…but I decided to take a little writer’s license with it….so go with it…

CHAPTER NINE - Storybook Band

Interview 2002

The band…we, uh, really had what I guess you could call a storybook start…The kind of start that bands all over dream of…And few ever achieve…


September 1996

Spike paced around the terminal nervously as Buffy watched him with mild amusement. Angel sat casually in one of the many seats waiting for the call to board, head tilted back, listening to his Discman. Alone in his own world. Buffy turned her attention from her husband to this other man. He was somewhat of a mystery to her. Even though he had been a part of their lives for three years now, she barely said more than five words to him. Hell, she’s probably only seen him three times in that time, as well. So, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

Quiet. Reserved. Introverted. Those three words seemed to fit him. She assumed, of course. He seemed nice enough. And obviously, he was a talented musician. But that was all she knew. And it all came from her husband. Spike never had anything but good things to say about how Angel played. And how he created music. It was always about the music with the two of them. Always.

And she tried to be a friend to Angel. She’d tried to start up a friendly rapport on those few occasions she and he saw each other. But he kept to himself. It was almost a fault. He was pleasant enough to her, but never overly friendly.

He was almost the antithesis to her pacing husband. Who was most definitely more of an extrovert. And who was currently making her dizzy with his incessant pacing.

She stood up and approached him. She stopped in front of him and placed her hands on his forearms, “William. Please, stop.”

“Can’t help it, love. Bloody nervous,” Spike said, sighing.

She looked at him sympathetically, “It’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s bloody not,” he broke away from her and began his pacing again.

But Buffy was quickly in front of him again. “Will, what’s wrong?”

He sighed and looked somewhat embarrassed. “Never bloody flown before,” he muttered.

Buffy gave a small smile, “That’s it?”

He looked at her indignantly, “Oi! That’s it? That’s soddin’ it? Bloody unnatural’s what it bloody well is. Man was not meant to soddin’ fly. If we were, we would have been given bloody wings.”

During his tirade, Buffy’s grin grew wider. Perhaps she shouldn’t be finding humor in her husband’s obvious discomfort, but she was. She couldn’t help it.

He stopped his rant, glaring at her, “What’s so bloody funny?”

“You. And your ‘sodding this’ and ‘sodding that’ and ‘bloody, bloody, bloody.’ And you’re fretting. Don’t worry. The flight’s not that bad. Just long. And boring. I’ve taken it, remember? Now, are you really that worried about the flying or is it the something else?”

Spike sighed. He glanced briefly at Angel. The other man was paying them no attention, still encompassed in his own world, listening to whatever it was that he was listening to. At least Angel didn’t hear his rather embarrassing tirade. No need for that.

Buffy continued, “You’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time and now that it’s here…”

“That’s just it. I never really expected this. I just know we’re gonna screw something up when we get there.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Murphy’s law?”

She tilted her head at him, skeptical.

He sighed again. “It’s just nerves. Once I’m there, it’ll be fine.”


Interview 2000

Uh…there is a bloke by the name of Guy Zapoleon who, at the time, was a program director at a radio station in the States…Dallas, I think. He had come to England and he had heard our independent single on the radio. And loved it, apparently. He brought it back to the States and I guess, passed it around… well, copies. He made copies of it and passed it around to DJ’s. And it kind of…by the time we got to America, the song was moderate rotation…I think it had top 20 airplay before we even got there.


September 1996

Spike began his pacing again. “I mean, it’s not every bloody day that you’re asked to audition for Clive Davis. The Clive Davis.” He reached her and pulled her into his arms, “This is bloody huge. The President of Arista. Luv, if we get this…”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist, “I know.”

“Arista Records. They’re interested. In us.”

“I know,” she repeated, still smiling. Her hands moved to cup his face and she pulled him down for a kiss.

Their brief kiss was interrupted by the announcement that the flight was now boarding.

They parted, resting foreheads together. Buffy looked at him, “I wish I could go with you.”

“I wish you could, too.”

“But this thesis is slowly but surely kicking my ass.” She pulled away with a sigh. “Now, I want you to call when you get there. Okay?”

“Of course, love. You know I will.” He glanced over at Angel, who was putting away his portable CD player and getting his things together to board.

“Miss you,” Buffy said.

He leaned in for another quick kiss, “Miss you, too. Gonna miss you so bloody much.”

“But it’s only for a few days, right? You’ll be back soon.”

“Of course.”

The attendant came on the speaker again to announce that their seats were now boarding.

“Well, pet, that’s us.” He kissed her briefly again and bent down to pick up his carryon. Their eyes met briefly and an understanding passed over them and he turned to go to Angel’s side, who was already standing at the end of the line.

Spike spun around, walking backwards, a smile on his face, “Wish us luck, pet. We’re gonna get this, I know it.”

She smiled, “Good luck.” She waved him goodbye and watched him until he boarded. She moved towards the windows to watch the plane. Quietly, she simply watched and waited. Soon, the plane was pulling away from the terminal and heading for the runway. She didn’t leave until the plane was in the air and her husband was on his way to New York.


END CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN - Flight and Performance


Interview 2000

And it was Clive Davis who flew Acid Reign to New York City and we auditioned for him…


September 1996

Spike’s hands grasped the arm rests tightly, eyes squeezed closed, as the plane hit some more turbulence. Bloody hell, he thought, how much more of this? He tried to distract himself, but his CD player ran out of batteries about half way through the flight, and he stupidly forgot to bring extra batteries.

Sighing in relief as the plane leveled out, he looked over at Angel. He was asleep. Of course, he was. Sighing again, Spike turned to his blank notebook in an attempt to perhaps write something. What, he didn’t really know. Anything to help keep his mind off the damned flight…

The plane hit another pocket of turbulence.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, gripping the arm rests once again.

*******

Spike never thought he’d be so happy to be on solid ground as he exited the plane and entered LaGuardia. “Thank the bloody stars that’s soddin’ over,” he said as he and Angel waited with the rest of their fellow passengers in front of the baggage pickup.

Angel gave a small smile, “You know we’ll just have to do it again in a couple of days.”

Spike glared at him, “Thank you for that, mate.” He snatched up his suitcase as it came near. “I’m gonna go find a pay phone and call Buffy. Let her know we’re here.”

Angel nodded, “Okay. Meet you in the front in a few.”

“Yeah.” He turned and looked for the closest phone.

Setting his luggage down beside him, Spike glimpsed at his watch. 9:05 PM. Of course, that was London time. But at least he knew she’d still be awake. He picked up the handset of the phone and connected to a long-distance operator. As he waited for one to come on the line, he busied himself with setting his watch for five hours behind…Here it was now 4:05.

An operator came on the line and he rattled off all the information she needed and waited for the call to connect. He idly watched the people rush by as he listened to the sounds of the operator speaking to Buffy and then connecting the call.

Then, “William?”

“Hey, pet,” he said. “Miss you.”

“Miss you, too,” he could tell she was smiling from her voice. “I take it you two got there just fine?”

“Yeah.”

“How was the flight?”

“Bloody terrifying.”

She laughed, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“To hell it wasn’t.”

“Poor baby,” she humored him.

“The soddin’ plane kept shaking.”

“You are aware that’s normal, right?”

He gave a small shrug, even though she couldn’t see him, “Yeah, well…still bloody terrifying.”

She giggled again, “So, what’s the plan?”

He gave a small sigh, “Not sure. We’re supposed to be greeted by some guy and I think he’s taking us to Mr. Davis. Or maybe we won’t see him until tomorrow.”

“Okay, well, I don’t want to keep you too long. So, I’ll let you go…miss you.”

“Miss you, too. Love you, pet.”

“Love you, too. See you in a few days.”

“Yeah.”

With the conversation now over, Spike bent over and picked up his luggage and proceeded toward the entrance where Angel was waiting. Wordlessly, the pair found a man in a suit holding a sign that held both of their names.

“Angel O’Connor and William Giles?” the man asked as they approached him.

“Yeah,” Spike said.

“Good. I’m Mr. Davis’ assistant, Steve. Unfortunately, Mr. Davis cannot meet with you today, but as arranged to do so tomorrow morning. He asked me to take you to your hotel. Let you get settled in.”

The men nodded and followed him to the car. They rode in silence as Spike spent the time looking out the window in amazement.

This was the first time in his life that he’d ever been to America. He listened to tales of the country from Buffy, but he’d never seen it before himself.

He found that he loved it. The modernity of the city. So different from his home in London. But, he still looked forward to leaving the place. After all, Buffy wasn’t here.


The Next Morning

When Spike and Angel arrived at the head office of Arista Records, they were led to a sort of recording studio, but bigger than the one they recorded at in London. While not exactly a stage, it suited them just fine. The two of them decided they would go acoustic for the showcase. Spike loved performing acoustically. It allowed him the opportunity to really show off his vocal talents. But, at the same time, he couldn’t hide if he screwed up. So, an acoustic performance took talent. And confidence.

Steve greeted them when they arrived and introduced them to the man who would decide their future.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Clive Davis said as he shook their hands. He seemed to be friendly gentlemen. Genuinely interested in being there. “How was the flight? Not too bad, I hope?”

“It was fine, Mr. Davis,” Angel said.

Spike didn’t argue to the contrary.

Mr. Davis introduced them to the man next to him, “This is Donnie Ienner. He works over at Columbia. He’s going to listen in today.”

More hands were shook and Spike and Angel took their places.

Spike stood quietly in front of his microphone, eyes closed, attempting to get in the zone, so to speak. He imagined this was just like any other performance. Except, Acid Reign never performed in front of an audience before. Just Wesley as they were recording their debut. But he couldn’t let himself go down that track. It would just make him more nervous. He and Angel had been rehearsing tirelessly for this for weeks since they learned of Clive Davis’ interest.

They were as prepared for this as they could get. His vocals were never better. Angel’s guitar playing was top notch. They had the talent. He knew they did. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t. Now, they just needed to make sure the confidence to pull it off was there. After all, talent alone was not enough.

A realization emerged. He was living his dream. He fought to get here. When things looked bleak and it looked like it was a pointless battle, he and Angel trooped on. Never giving up. And now, they were here. In front of one of the biggest music producers in the world. He was taking the time to listen, when so many turned them down.

And, so, it was with this thought, that Spike’s confidence swelled and he opened his eyes and sang.


Interview 2000

We were initially signed up to Sony by complete accident…

END CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Hang on

Interview 2000

…and in that same meeting, uh…in that same trip, it was the President of Columbia Records, Donnie Ienner, who also requested us to, uh, meet with him and they kinda duked it out…


1996
London, England

Buffy stared at the computer screen. Her eyes were bleary and her hands came up to rub them. She let her hands drop heavily to her sides and she gave a big sigh. She was really getting tired of this damned thesis. It was slowly kicking her ass. The further she got in her studies, the more she began to question her motives for continuing on, for striving to get that ever elusive Ph.D. But, damn it, she was going to get it no matter what happens.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes, in the hopes of clearing them. After a few moments, she opened them, squinting.

Nope, still blurry.

She glared at the computer monitor as though it had personally done something to offend her, then gave a huff and jumped to her feet.

That’s it. She needed a break. The damned paper could wait. It wasn’t going anywhere.

Nope…it really wasn’t going anywhere. Really not.

She paced the room, trying to work off the restlessness. She was getting so frustrated with the paper. But she really only had herself to blame, she supposed. She was the one who chose to focus on a more elusive topic of Egyptian art. Images relating to Heka. No, she couldn’t focus her thesis on something like the Temple of Amun-Ra at Karnak or the Book of the Dead. She had to become interested in the parts of Egyptian life and culture that were considerable not mainstream for major inclusion in textbooks and the like.

She gave a sigh.

She didn’t want to be writing her paper.

She wanted to be in New York with William.

This was the farthest they had been apart since the one time she went home for Christmas break her first year in England. Their apartment was quiet. Too quiet. She hadn’t realized how quiet everything was without him here. Without him here to bring life into the room.

He’s only been gone almost two days and she was already missing him terribly.

She reached for the phone. She dialed Dawn’s number and waited for her sister-in-law to pick up.

“Hey, Dawn.”

“What’s up?” Dawn’s voice filtered through the handset.

“Just wondering if you’d like to go out or something?” Buffy hoped she didn’t sound to hopeful. She needed to get out of the apartment.

“Missing him, aren’t you? Too quiet there?” Dawn asked, knowingly.

“You know, it’s really creepy when you do that.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” Dawn said. Buffy could tell from the inflections in her voice that she was smiling. “But, yes,” Dawn continued, “I wouldn’t mind getting out, too. My room mate is driving me nuts.”

“Okay. The usual place?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t mind dancing.”

“Okay. See you in a few.”

The two hung up and Buffy went to the bedroom to get dressed for a night on the town.

*********

Surprisingly, despite it being a week night, the club they frequented was crowded. Buffy stood at the entrance, looking around, trying to locate Dawn. She spotted her quickly, already seated at what has come to be known as ‘their’ table and made her way to her.

“Hey,” she greeted Dawn as she took a seat at the table. It was also at this time that Buffy noticed the young man sitting next to William’s sister.

“Oh, hey, Buffy, I wanted you to introduce Connor. Buffy, Connor; Connor, Buffy.”

Buffy gave him a small wave and a smile, “Hello. Nice to meet you.” She looked pointedly at Dawn, “Dawnie didn’t tell me she was bringing anyone.”

“Oh, no,” Connor said, politely, “I just happened to see her. Thought I’d say ‘hi.’” He looked between the two women, “If you want, I can go.”

Buffy shook her head, “No, you don’t have to do that. I was just-”

Dawn spoke up, smiling, “She’s just upset cuz she’s missing her honey.”

Buffy glared at her for a brief second, then shrugged, “Yeah…”

Dawn looked at her sympathetically, “Does he know how long he’s going to be in New York?”

Buffy shook her head, “He wasn’t quite sure. Something like a couple of days.”

“He told me that too, but I was hoping he told you more.”

Buffy sighed, “Nope…”

And so the conversation drifted to other topics, mainly, Dawn’s newfound relationship with the rather laconic Connor. They drank and they danced and a couple of hours later, Buffy received a call on her relatively new mobile phone.

“Hello?” She promptly smiled as she heard the operator come on the line asking her if she would accept the charges. She, of course, promptly said ‘yes’ and William came on the line.

“Will?”

“Hey, love,” his voice filtered through the noise of the club.

Dawn, who had been watching, mouthed, “William?”

Buffy nodded, fervently, and speaking to Spike said, “So, how did it go?”

“Pretty well. Got some news.”

Meanwhile, Dawn was explaining who was on the phone to Connor, who said, “Oh, the guy from Acid Reign? Your brother’s the guy from that band?”

Spike, having been able to hear Connor’s voice asked, “Who’s that?”

“Oh, Connor. Dawn’s boyfriend.”

“Dawn has a boyfriend? Since when?” She heard him give a sigh, “Never mind, I promised her I wouldn’t pull the overprotective brother act on her. Anyway, guess what?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “I don’t know, William. Mr. Davis didn’t throw you guys out on your asses?”

William laughed, “Nope. Something better.”

“What?” Buffy asked, her excitement growing. Was he about to tell her what she had hoped he would?

“You are talking to one of the newest artists for Columbia Records,” he said, happiness ringing in his voice.

“Really? You’re not joking, are you? Because if you are, you know I’ll have to kick your ass when you get home.”

“I’m serious.”

She pulled the phone away from her mouth slightly, and spoke to Dawn who was looking at her expectedly.

“They got the deal.”

Buffy laughed when Dawn’s eyes grew and she let out an excited screech. Several people around them stared at her but she ignored them.

“I hear Dawn’s happy,” Spike spoke, laughing.

“How’d you guess? But seriously, I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, pet. We’ll be staying tonight and then catch the earliest flight back.”

“Yay!” Buffy exclaimed, giggling. “Been missing you.” Suddenly, something clicked, “Hang on, I thought you were meeting with Arista?”


Interview 2000

…and we loved him and the people there and we loved the label and they signed us pretty much on the spot.

END CHAPTER

CHAPTER TWELVE - Personal Assistant


Interview 2002

We all have masks, you know. I think you have a…a personality for work, you have a personality for friends, for acquaintances, or whatever. And I think it’s a lot to ask for a public person…a performer, to try to let as many of those down as possible…


April 1997


Miss Willow Rosenberg showed up at the studio earlier than was expected of her. Mostly because she wanted to give a good impression on her first day on the job. She had to admit to herself that she was slightly nervous about working for the lead singer of Acid Reign. Especially since her previous experiences dealing with rock stars left a sour taste in her mouth.

Egotistical was one word that came to her mind about those rock stars. Well, the nicest word… She knew her mother probably wouldn’t have approved of her judging a man before she ever really met the guy, but she couldn’t stop herself.

But, really, there was a reason there were stereotypes to begin with.

Then, of course, there was the question of why she was even doing this job if she already knew she hated it. Then, followed by the question of why she would accept this job if she didn’t like the people she’d have to work with. The answer, however, was simple.

She needed money. And she wanted to work in the music industry. And in order to get anywhere, you had to start somewhere.

Even if that somewhere was fetching a stuck-up rock star a glass of water, a towel, or whatever else he demanded, no matter how humiliating it was for her.

Willow found herself in the to the lobby/sitting area of the studio. The only other person there was a petite blond woman. She was sitting on the sofa, legs curled under her, magazine on her lap. She was nursing a diet coke.

When she heard the door open and Willow enter, she looked up and gave a polite smile.

“Hello,” she greeted.

Willow answered with a similar greeting.

“You’re…Willow, right?”

She gave a nod, “Yep. That’s me.”

The blond nodded and stood up, “Good. My name’s Buffy. William told me he was expecting you.”

“William?” Willow didn’t remember anyone named that.

Buffy smiled and gave a small eye roll, “You probably know him as Spike. He keeps insisting people call him that. But, I don’t think so. No way am I calling my husband ‘Spike.’”

“Oh.”

Okay, so this guy was already starting to sound like a walk in the park.

“Come on, I’ll take you on back. The band’s already started rehearsing for today.”

Willow followed Buffy to the back where there were various recording rooms, all sound-proofed. Most were empty. But one had the band, in the middle of a rundown of a song.

Buffy and Willow stood outside the door as they waited for them to finish, not wanting to interrupt.

Suddenly, Spike stepped away from the microphone, shaking his head.

Buffy took that as her cue and opened the door.

“No,” Spike was saying to the band. “Nope…not bloody feelin’ it. Don’t know what’s wrong.”

Angel set his guitar down and went over to the drummer, speaking to him quietly, giving him some tips. It was clear there was some kind of nonverbal connection between Angel and Spike. While Spike couldn’t voice what he was finding wrong, Angel seemed to know exactly what it was and went over to correct it.

Acid Reign was in the middle of a rigorous rehearsal schedule and they began their preparations for the promotion of their debut album in England. It was a stressful time. And a busy time. Shortly after they got back home to England, they began work on releasing their second single. And watched it soar to the top of the national charts. A month later, that song that was on moderate rotation in the US was officially released by Columbia, becoming their first US single, and steadily climbed the Billboard charts. Last month, their third single, and first love song, was released in England…and again, they had a national number one hit under their belts.

Singles had been released, and music videos had been made. Magazine interviews had been conducted.

And, just last week, their first album was released in England, debuting at number one on the Brit charts. It was set for release in the rest of the world next week. To say that it was an unbelievable experience was an understatement. Finally, after years of being turned down or told they didn’t stand a chance, Acid Reign seemed to set to rule the music world. They had taken the world by storm.

It was the kind of thing that could easily go to one’s head. Which was Willow’s primary concern.



Spike, noticing Buffy and Willow, turned to the band, saying, “Let’s, uh, let’s take a break.”

He approached Buffy and pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her lips, “Hey, pet.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, smiling as they broke apart. She turned to Willow, “This is Willow. You asked me to show her in when she showed up?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I gotta go. The professor’s going to mad at me if I don’t get those papers graded.”

“Okay. See you at home tonight,” Spike said, giving her another quick kiss.

“Count on it.” Buffy moved away from him and looked at Willow on her way, “Nice meeting you. Sorry I can’t stay.”

“Oh, no,” Willow said. “It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.”

“I’m sure you will.” She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Don’t let his bad boy looks tell you otherwise, but, really, he’s a big teddy bear.”

“Oi. I can you hear you, pet.”

Buffy turned to look at him, grinning widely. “What?” she asked innocently.

“I’ll take care of you when I get home,” he said, smirking.

“Promises, promises,” Buffy said as she exited the room.

Spike chuckled quietly, shaking his head, before looking at Willow. She was surprised by the sudden appearance of a shy young man. It was something that simply didn’t jar with her preconceived notions of a conceited rock star.

“Umm, Willow, right?”

She nodded, “That’s right.” She held her hand out. He took it and gave it a firm shake.

“So…” There was brief moment of silence before Spike gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry, love. Just not used to having someone to do things for me. Don’t know why the label thinks I even need someone. No offense.”

She gave a quick shake of her head, “No, it’s okay.” She couldn’t help but find herself liking this guy. Maybe they weren’t all assholes after all. “All you need to worry about is concentrating on your music. I’ll deal with everything else, okay?”

“Alright.”


Interview 2002

I really think I have…of course, there’s always going to be something to hold back. For a couple of reasons. One, I’m innately quite shy. If you can believe it. Two, if I give you everything right now, what else would there be for you to be interested in?


END CHAPTER TWELVE

Author's Notes: Please review and let me know what you think.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Show Business


May 1997


“Oh, this?” Spike asked, gesturing to his scar, though the listening audience could not see his movements. He hated the fact that his hands were shaking. He didn’t know why though; this was just a radio interview. There was no physical audience in front of him, except for the DJ conducting the interview. Angel sat next to him, headphones on his head as well, leaning wordlessly into the microphone.

This radio interview was just one of several that were set up by their management at Columbia as an addendum to the eleven sold out shows they had. It was a grueling seventeen days and Spike was more than happy that this was to be the last interview of the brief tour, followed by the final showcase tonight. The rigid schedule was not something he was used to. It was quite demanding.

But it was also unbelievably amazing and enlivening.

The DJ, Sara, nodded, “Yeah, love, I have to admit, it gives you a certain sexy bad boy image.”

Angel snickered.

Spike shot him a look before saying, “No, I wish I could say it came from a bar fight, or somethin’ manly like that…No, I, uh, I was twenty-one, working at Willy’s…Willy’s Music Store. The night shift. I was supposed to close for the evenin’. And, uh, we were robbed. Don’t remember much… ‘cept the guy cold cocked me with the gun…”

“Oh. How awful,” Sara exhibited the appropriate amount of shock in her voice, “Did they catch him?”

Spike shook his head, “No….no, they never did catch the bloody bastard…Last I heard anyway…”

Sara voiced her concern and then spoke to Angel, “So, Angel, any harrowing experiences to share with us?”

Angel gave a small laugh, “No. I’m sorry to say that I’ve lived a rather boring life.”

There were a few more standard questions, mostly about their latest single, to which the two dutifully answered. Then the DJ asked the questions Spike was waiting for. The exact same questions all the other DJ’s had been asking.

“So, how did you guys meet? I read that a magazine ad has something to do it?”

Spike gave a small laugh, “Yeah. It’s not as brow raising as it sounds. Angel here placed an ad in a little magazine about his band at the time needing a lead singer. And I tried out.” He cast a look at Angel, “Still not sure how I got the gig.”

Angel leaned into his microphone, “Spike can downplay it all he wants - and he does - but all it took was those few minutes of his audition for me to know that I wanted to work with him. His talent is amazing. We wouldn‘t be anything without him.”

Spike was glad that this was a radio interview, because he felt the burning of his cheeks, knowing he was blushing from the compliment.

“Okay, now, if I understand correctly, it’s time for you guys to give us a performance? What are you going to do?”

Spike nodded, despite the fact that the listeners would not be able to see him. “Yeah. We’re gonna do a personal favorite of mine.”

He removed the headphones and he and Angel moved to the little set up they prepared ahead of time. Angel picked up his guitar and Spike adjusted the microphone.

Angel started the song off with a few measures of guitar solo before Spike, taking a big breath, began to sing.


She's taking her time making up the reasons
To justify all the hurt inside
Guess she knows from the smiles and the look in their eyes
Everyone's got a theory about the bitter one
They're saying
Mama never loved her much
And daddy never keeps in touch
That's why she shies away from human affection
But somewhere in a private place
She packs her bags for outer space
And now she's waiting for the right kind of pilot
To come
She's saying

I would fly you to the moon and back
If you'll be if you'll be my baby
Got a ticket for a world where
we belong
So would you be my baby
Ooh-ooh

She can't remember a time
When she felt needed
If love was red then she was color-blind
All her friends they've been tried for treason
And crimes that were never defined
She's saying
Love is like a barren place
And reaching out for human faith is
Is like a journey I just don't have a map for
So baby gonna take a dive and push the shift to overdrive
Send a signal that she's hanging all her hopes on the stars


After they were done, Sara and everyone else in the studio broke out in applause. Spike gave a brief nod of thanks.

“I love that song,” Sara exclaimed, sounding excited. “Now, I have to ask the question all the girls out there are wanting to know. Anyone special? I noticed, Spike, a ring on your finger?”

“Yeah. Very much spoken for,” Spike said, nodding enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face at the mention of his wife.

“And judging from your smile, I’d say you’re very happy.”

“Definitely.”

“And I’m sure there are plenty of disappointed young ladies. And what about you, Angel?”

“Very single,” he said briefly.

“Well, judging by the frantic waving of your manager on the other side of the window-” Sara started.

Angel and Spike simultaneously turned around to see their manager, Lorne Krevswath, giving a rather frantic wave.

Sara continued, “-It’s time for us to draw this to an end. Well, thank you, Spike, Angel, for stopping by. And everyone listening in this morning, be sure to see Acid Reign tonight. And congratulations, guys, on your amazing success.”

“Thank you, Sara,” Angel said.

They shared goodbyes and Spike and Angel exited the sound booth, moving to Lorne and Willow, who had watched the interview behind the window.

“What’s up, Lorne? I thought we didn’t need to get to the sound check until later?” Spike asked.

Lorne Krevswath was an interesting person, to say the least. Eccentric to the extreme, today he was sporting a brightly colored suit. Teal, to be exact. With a pink silk shirt and matching teal tie. However, despite whatever oddities he had, he was highly sought after, always knowing exactly what his clients needed to do in order to gain popularity.

Lorne shook his head, “No worries, my little chickadees, everything is right on schedule for that.”

“Then why the franticness?” Willow asked, smirking.

“Why, we’ve got to get these two to their next interview, of course.”

Angel stared at him, disbelieving, “Another one?”

“Oh, Angel cakes, welcome to show business.”


END CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Author’s Note: The song is “To the Moon and Back” by Savage Garden…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Interlude


May 1997

Buffy reached over and slapped the blaring alarm clock off. Her eyes remained closed as she slowly willed herself awake. The bed was still devoid of the man she longed for. God, she missed him. It was lonely without him.

A smile slowly graced her face and her eyes opened. Today, Will was coming home from the promos he’d been gone so long doing.

He’d been gone over two weeks. Seventeen days, to be exact. She thought it was difficult when he had gone to New York to meet Clive Davis. But, no, this was torture. Of course, she was able to hear one of his radio interviews, even if that wasn’t enough. She remembered squealing like a little girl when she heard his voice. Of course, the other students who had been nearby looked at her oddly. But she hadn’t cared. Her husband was on the radio.

She threw off the covers and sat up in bed. William would be returning tonight. He told her that much last night when she spoke to him on the phone before going to bed.

And she wanted to make his return home something special. Something he’d remember.

**************

Spike breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped the key into the lock. Finally, after seventeen days, he was finally home. He loved the job; there was no doubt of that, but it was hard. Stressful.

Not at all like the laid-back casual career so many people envisioned. Being a musician, Spike decided, was probably one of, if not the most difficult jobs in the entertainment industry.

Actors only needed to show up at the same studios or locations everyday and go home the same night. Writers only had to sit at their computers, write their novel and then sit back as others rushed to get it published.

Musicians…they had to physically get themselves to various locations across the country, across the world. They had to show up to the concerts. They had to spent countless nights sleeping in unfamiliar hotel beds, miles from home. Hundreds…even thousands of miles from those they loved. Not to mention suffer the dreaded jetlag.

But, Spike decided, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Especially since, unlike so many others, he had someone to go home to. Someone who stood by him, supported his decisions, even if it meant days without him.

It made it all the more worthwhile.

He pushed the door open and bent down to pick up his suitcase. He entered the apartment and immediately, a grin graced his face.

Buffy had been busy.

The lights of the apartment were dimmed. Candles were lit all over their home.

And she was on the sofa, her lithe form encased in the most tantalizing outfit. His eyes raked her form. Blood red high heel pumps adorned her tiny feet. Matching stockings covered her legs. Continuing upward, Spike groaned as he took in her red thong and bustier.

Buffy watched him quietly as he looked at her, nervously. She didn’t usually go for the sex kitten look. And she most definitely wasn’t usually the one who did the seducing. So, yeah, she was nervous. “Will?”

He snapped out of his daze and his eyes locked with hers, “Not that I’m complainin,’ love, but wha’ brought this on?”

She stood up and moved towards him, giving a small shrug, “I don’t know. I missed you. I wanted to do something for you. Something special.”

He nodded quickly, “You’re definitely doin’ something’ for me, pet.” He reached down and tried to surreptitiously adjusted himself. She noticed and a smile graced her lips.

“I noticed.” Her hands reached up and cupped his face. As her lips grazed his teasingly, she whispered, “Do you like it?”

“God, yes,” he moaned, wrapping his arms around her and covering his mouth with his.

She moaned as her lips parted, inviting him in. He took the invitation and deepened the kiss. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer. He caught the backs of her thighs as she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, supporting her. He released a groan as she grinded herself against him.

Neither was conscious of how or when, but somehow Spike managed to maneuver them to their bedroom. Buffy squealed when he unceremoniously dropped her on the bed. But a moan overtook her as he covered her body with his, resuming where he had left off, his lips returning to hers.

Spike’s hands were incapable of staying still as they skirted across her body, drawing out mewls of pleasure. Buffy broke the kiss briefly to pull his shirt off. Spike’s lips journeyed down her jaw to her neck and to her collarbones. His hands reached up and massaged her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bustier. Buffy threw her head back and let out a whimper.

“Oh, how I missed that sound,” Spike whispered, capturing a fabric-encased nipple with his lips.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, squirming in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pressure slowly building within her.

Spike’s hands searched desperately for the clasps of her bustier and he let out a growl of frustration when he couldn’t undo them. Without words, Buffy’s fingers reached the closure and deftly undid it. Spike removed the bustier and tossed it aside, not paying any mind where it landed. With her breasts now free, his mouth latched onto one nipple, rolling it with his tongue as his hand played with the neglected one.

Buffy whimpered and thrust her hips into Spike’s, emitting a groan from him.

“Will,” she whimpered. “God, I need you.” Her hands danced across his chest, drawing random patterns on their way downward. She gripped him through his jeans, causing him to throw his head back, groaning.

“Oh, love,” he whispered, returning to her mouth. As he kissed her, his free hand moved down, pushing her thong aside. She moaned and tightened her grip slightly on his cock as his fingers caressed her wetness.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, her hands moving to his belt, and swiftly undoing it. She made quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans, too.

“Christ, you’re so wet, pet. I need you,” he moaned.

“Then help me,” she cried, as she tried to push his jeans down.

Spike quickly stood up, shed his jeans and shoes before reaching for her thong, divesting her of that. He returned to his place on top of her and groaned as she took hold of him, positioning him at her entrance. He wasted no time sliding it, causing them both to moan in pleasure. Buffy’s legs came up to wrap around his lower back, pulling him further in.

He kissed her again as he began to thrust in and out. Buffy gave little whimpers with every thrust and moved her hips to meet his every downward stroke. He broke the kiss to pant harshly, resting his forehead in the crook of her shoulder, his movements becoming faster and faster. Buffy’s hands ran down his back, settling on his hips, pulling him closer, deeper.

It wasn’t long until they both came, overwhelmed with their desire. Spike collapsed on her, spent and panting heavily.

Buffy turned her head to look at him, his face buried in her neck, “Welcome home.”

He looked at her, grinning, “Best ‘welcome ‘ome’ I ever got.”

END CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - First Time



July 1997

“When are they going show them?” Dawn asked impatiently as she plopped down on the sofa beside her sister-in-law. Both girls agreed to get together that morning for the live variety show. While it was relatively early in the morning, they were both wide awake as they waited with bated breath to see Acid Reign’s very first televised performance.

Buffy was so proud of her husband. And Angel, as well. She couldn’t believe after trying for so long that their dream was actually coming together. It seemed that patience and determination really did pay off.

She looked at Dawn and answered, “I’m sure they’ll be up soon. Just be patient.”

“Don’t think he’s gonna screw up, do you?”

Buffy shook her head vehemently, “No. Definitely not. I think he’ll be perfect.”

*******

Spike paced the expanse of the green room nervously. It was a wasn’t a particularly large room. Longer than it was wide, It had a sofa against the wall, facing the television suspended from the ceiling. A coffee table covered with various entertainment magazines and a bowl of candies stood in front of the sofa. The walls were painted a supposedly calming shade of blue. Framed art prints adorned the walls. Mostly those of Warhol. If Spike wasn’t so nervous, he might have cracked a smile, imagining Buffy’s very vocal disdain of the artist.

Why did the show have to be live? And why did the rest of the band have to be so calm? He looked over at Angel, who was relaxed on the sofa, watching the television which, of course, was showing the TV show they were about to be on. He seemed completely at ease with this new situation. Or perhaps he was just better at concealing it. Maybe he was calm on the outside, but was an absolute wreck on the inside. It certainly would make Spike feel better about it. To know he wasn’t the only one fretting.

The four-man back up band looked reasonably calm, but then, it was likely that they worked with other bands in the past and this wasn’t their first time on television.

And the camera wouldn’t be focused on them. Like it would be on him.

Unfortunately, before he was allowed the opportunity to completely gather his nerves, one of the coordinators for the show popped her head into the green room. She held a clipboard in one hand and a headset around her ears. She listened briefly to the voice coming from her headset, before looking at Spike and the band, “Get ready, guys. You’re next.”

Oh, God. Spike gulped audibly.

******

The co-host of the show, Richard, motioned to the band after their performance. “Acid Reign, everybody.”

The audience cheered. Spike smiled, and gave a small bow in appreciation. He was beyond thrilled about how well everything went.

Richard looked back at Spike and Angel, “Come on down, boys.”

Spike and Angel left the band set up, leaving the back up band to begin the task of removing the equipment. They shook hands with Richard as they came up to the main stage, taking seats in the chairs provided for them. Richard’s co-hostess, Judy nodded to them, “Hi, Angel. Hi, Spike.”

Richard looked down, behind the desk, “We’ve got something for you. We’ve got-”

“Oh?” Spike asked, looking down at what Richard was reaching for.

Richard looked at them, continuing, “Because I didn’t go through all the figures before you, er, performed, right? Because, now, that’s your first performance on telly, right?”

Angel nodded, “That’s right.”

“The very first one. That was it,” Spike said, nodding.

“The very first?” Richard asked, again.

“You’ve seen it,” Spike said.

“But it’s, uh, obviously, you’ve…when you go to the States-”

The audience began to cheer. Richard stopped briefly to allow them time to quiet before continuing.

“When you hit the States,” Richard paused again, clearing his throat as he continued to wait for the enthusiastic crowd to calm. He cleared his throat again, and looked down at the aforementioned objects again before facing the two performers, “When you hit the States, you’ll probably be doing Lettermen, and Jay Leno, and all those, don’t forget.” He reached down, “Now the reason I say that is because your first single debuted in the States at number thirty-one on the charts.”

“Right,” Spike said, nodding.

“That was the first week. And, uh, I think the second week is now, uh, up to fifteen with a bullet.”

“That’s right.”

“So, they must be now making calls, saying, ‘hey, where are these guys-’”

Spike and Angel gave a small laugh.

“-get them over here.’ So, are you planning to go over there very shortly?”

“We have to go, uh, in about four weeks time,” Angel replied.

“Four weeks time,” Richard repeated. “It’s been a very, uh, quick rise, hasn’t it?”

Spike concurred, “It has.” And certainly had been. When he dreamed of this, he never expected such a quick success. He envisioned struggling and fighting for several years before anything remotely positive happened.

“Yeah, it has. Comparatively,” Angel said, nodding. “Very quickly. Very quickly.”

“Three singles,” Richard said, holding his fingers out, counting out the three. “The first two have gone number one on the national charts and things like that, so… But, when did you get together?”

Spike looked to Angel, waiting for confirmation. “It’s about…five years ago? And I guess, in this business, five years is an overnight success story so…”

“No, not necessarily. A lot of groups - a lot of groups break up after a couple of months. So you know-”

Angel laughed, “I’ve been in a few of them.”

“Have you?” Richard asked, with a smile. He pointed to the show’s band, “You should join our band, I tell you. Who’s in this week?” He looked over at the band, laughing. “No, actually, we’ve had the same band for a long, long time. But, anyway, congratulations.” He finally picked up the framed plaques hidden behind the desk. They each held a large print of the cover art of their album on the right side of the frame. On the left, set into the mat, was the disc itself. Below both of these, was a plaque commemorating the success of their album. “We got these for you. These are platinums for both the singles.” He handed a plaque to Angel and then one to Spike.

“Wow,” Angel said, looking at his.

Spike studied his, a smile on his face. It was touching. He loved it.

“We’re doing this now, because we don’t want you lot to forget us when you go overseas and when we’ve come back and you’ve made fifty million dollars out of your charts in America. And we hope you’ll always come back and remember our humble little British show.”

Spike smiled and nodded, “Oh, absolutely.”

“And remember, this was your very first television appearance. In the world.”

The audience cheered again.

“Give the boys a round of applause,” Richard said to the audience before returning his attention to Angel and Spike, “And congratulations, guys.”

“Thank you,” Spike said, shaking Richard’s hand one last time. He and Angel took a another second to give the audience a small bow before heading backstage.


END CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Tangible

Interview 2004

I think one of the biggest things I have is that I’m expressive. And I’m tangible and I’m not afraid to connect with people.

August 1997
Los Angeles, California

Buffy and Spike were standing in front of the baggage claim, waiting patiently for their luggage to drop down the chute.

“Mom and Dad are supposed to be waiting for us,” Buffy said. “Mom was so excited when I told her we were coming home for a few days. It’s been so long since I’ve been home.”

Spike cleared his throat, “Sorry about that, pet. Never meant to keep you from your family.”

She gave him a small shove with her shoulder, “Now, none of that. Believe it or not, I love living in London. I don’t regret going there. Besides, if I didn’t, I’d probably never meet you.” She looked at him lovingly.

“And,” she continued with a giddy smile, “now I’m finally finished with my Master’s. So I’ve got time to travel.” She grimaced slightly, “Until I start my Ph.D., anyway.”

He grasped her hand and gave it a small squeeze, “I know, pet. It’s just, sometimes I forget how long it’s been for you since seeing your parents.”

She nodded understandingly, “Since our wedding. But I talk to them at least once a week. And they can’t wait to meet Spike the rock star.”

He gave a small wry smile, “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“But it is, kinda,” she said. “As far as everyone else is concerned.”

Finally their luggage arrived and Spike grabbed the two suitcases. “Lead the way, love.”

***********

The reunion between Buffy and her parents was filled with happy tears and Spike had stood back, awkward and unsure. He was nervous that they would resent him for taking their only daughter from them.

But, thankfully, he learned, that was not the case. Joyce and Hank welcomed him warmly into their home. And he was definitely glad to be there. It was nice not to stay in a hotel room for once. And to have Buffy there with him. After completing her Master’s and learning Acid Reign was due to perform at the famous Universal Citywalk in LA, she wasted no time making it possible for her to join them.

And now, Spike stood on the back porch, in the warm summer night. Contemplating. He wasn’t due at the location until early tomorrow afternoon and it was there that he would meet up with Willow and the band. Until then, he could relax. He wasn’t too concerned about the performance. They were well prepared for it. Of that, he had no doubt. He was confident they wouldn’t fuck it up.

Outside, he could hear the laughter of Buffy and her family inside the house. Moments ago, he had been in there, enjoying their company, contributing lively to the conversation, which was set around Buffy. A smile graced his lips as he recalled some of the numerous childhood stories he was now privy, too. Buffy had been bloody adorable, blushing bright red.

The laughter was slowly waning, a sign that the house was winding down for the evening. The back door opened and Spike glanced back to see who it was.

Hank came out and joined him on the porch. The two men stood silently for a few moments, before Hank spoke, “So, you’re, what do you musicians call it, getting in the zone for tomorrow or something like that?”

Spike smirked, “Something like that.”

“And you’re in a band, now,” Hank said.

“Yeah. Buffy’s the one who actually talk me into doing it. And, I’m glad she did.”

Hank smiled. “And I can tell she’s happy. And you’re happy. That’s good. You’re good for her.”

*********

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining brightly. Perfect weather for an outdoor performance. Buffy led her parents, who were curious to see her husband performance, through the crowd to the front of the audience that was gathered around the stage. She spotted Willow and gave a loud yell to get her attention.

Willow turned and smiled, seeing her.

“Hey, Buffy,” Willow said, giving her new friend a quick hug.

“Hey, I want you to meet my parents.” She turned to them, “Mom, Dad, this is Willow. She’s Will’s PA.”

“Nice to meet you, Willow,” Joyce said with a smile.

“You, too, Mrs. Summers. Mr. Summers.”

“So,” Buffy said, “when are they supposed to be up?”

“In a couple more minutes. Spike’s in a really good mood. Sound check went off without a hitch. Should be a good performance today.”

And, as Willow predicted, Acid Reign took to the stage a couple of minutes later, to a loud applause.

Spike, grinning like a mad man, took position in front of the microphone, and shouted, “Hello, LA!”

The audience dutifully cheered and hollered.

The band launched into their set, performing a couple of the hits from back home. When they got to their last song, Spike spoke into the microphone.

“I want to thank you all for your support. We have one more song before we have to leave. I hope we’ll be back soon.” As he spoke to the crowd, the band began to play the opening chords of their final song.

Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
Closer to where I started
Chasing after you

I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
Forgetting all I'm lacking
Completely incomplete
I'll take your invitation
You take all of me now
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you

I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go

And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you

**********

After their set, another band took to the stage and Spike and Acid Reign went out backstage. Spike headed back around the front, after a quick goodbye to the others and a thank you for a wonderful performance. He quickly spotted his wife, her parents, and his PA. On his way to them, a young girl, who couldn’t be older than sixteen, if that, approached him.

“Y-you’re Spike, right?”

He gave her a smile, “That’s right.”

A huge smile appeared on her face when he spoke to her. “I was wondering…” She held out a CD - Acid Reign’s CD - “Could you sign this for me?”

“Of course, love.” He took the album from her and searched his pockets for a pen. He couldn’t find one, but it wasn’t a problem. The girl had a pen held out in front of him before he could say anything.

He took the pen, “What’s your name, pet?”

“Miranda.”

“Miranda.” He signed her CD and handed it back to her. “Did you like the performance?”

She gushed, “Oh, I loved it.”

Spike laughed, “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I know you probably have to go now, but…” Miranda looked at him nervously, “Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” Spike replied, not hesitating in the least. He reached for her and gave her a friendly hug. He heard her sigh happily in his ear and noticed she couldn’t resist giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as they separated.

He noticed a group of girls standing not far from them. It was obvious they knew Miranda as she would glance back at them periodically, smiling hugely. Their shyness was painfully obvious. Spike could tell they wanted to approach, but were too nervous to do so. So, he took it upon himself.

Looking at Miranda, he asked, “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”

A huge grin appeared. “Yeah.” Unconsciously, she grabbed his hand and led him over to her friends.

After the round of introductions, hugs, and autographs, all the while chatting with them, one of the girls was at ease enough to ask if he would take his picture with them.

“Sure, love.”

Interview 2004

Now, I think, as I get older…I realize that I have the ability…to make or break their day. And why not make someone’s day?

That’s kind of my-my philosophy on it now, and, uh, it’s bloody amazing. It’s so much harder to say ‘no’ to taking a photo with someone. Saying ‘no’ to a photograph request can take twenty bloody minutes and saying ‘yes’ is three seconds of your life.

And it makes their day.


August 1997
Los Angeles, California

The girl asked a random bystander if he wouldn’t mind taking their picture and the girls gathered around Spike. He draped his arms around the shoulders of two of them as they wrapped their arms around his waist.

Within seconds, the photo was taken and the girls were giggling as they said goodbye.

“Thank you for the autograph,” Miranda said as they began to go their separate ways.

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled as he watched them go, running to their group parents, squealing all the way, before continuing towards Buffy and the others. He was stopped a couple more times along the way, but he didn’t mind. He loved their fans.

After all, it was because of them, that he was where he was now.


When he approached Willow, Buffy and her parents, he wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist.

“Hey, Spike,” Willow said, grinning. “Awesome show.”

“Thanks, Red.” Dropping a brief kiss on Buffy’s lips, he asked her and her parents, “How was it?” He waited with bated breath for their response. It was their opinion he was most concerned with. Willow, bless her, could be too nice. Not that he didn’t value her opinion, but he didn’t think she would be able to tell him if the show sucked or not.

Hank smiled, nodding, “Willow’s right. You guys are pretty good.”


END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Thirteen

Late August 1997
London, England

Buffy and Willow stood in the now-empty living space of Buffy and William’s apartment.

“Well,” Willow said, “Looks like that’s the last of it.”

Buffy nodded slowly, “Yep. Looks like.”

Willow turned swiftly towards Buffy, “So, ready to move into your much bigger and much nicer home?”

“Yeah.” Buffy began walking around, “Just wanna say goodbye to this place. You know, it’s the first place we lived in together since getting married. Lots of nice memories.”

Willow followed her friend as Buffy traced her fingers along the walls and the cabinets. “Of course. But you’ll always have those memories. And you’ll be able to make new ones. In your new home.”

“I know,” Buffy said absently. Looking around the empty place, she pointed out various spots, saying, “There’s where he carried me over the threshold. There’s where I sat all day, writing that damned bane of my existence. There’s where a cooking experiment went horribly wrong. And there’s where William did this thing with his -” She went silent abruptly, blushing as she remembered her present company.

Willow placed her hands on Buffy’s shoulders, steering her towards the door, “And I’ll just file that under TMI.”

Buffy blushed again.

“You chits ready yet?” William’s voice sounded as he entered.

Willow smiled at him, “Yeah. Buffy just had a quick trip down memory lane.”

Spike smirked, “That right?” He looked at his wife, “Done yet?”

Buffy grinned and nodded, “Yep.”

He moved towards her and suddenly picked her up, swinging her across his shoulder, fireman’s style. “Let’s go, love. Time’s awastin’.”

Buffy squealed and pounded on his back with her fists, “William! Put me down!”

Willow laughed loudly as she followed the couple, closing the door behind her.

************

“Where do you want these?” Willow asked, picking up a few picture frames.

Buffy looked away from the bookshelf, where she had been arranging the books according to subject. “Ooh, the mantle.”

Willow nodded and placed them carefully on the fireplace mantle. She smiled as she looked at the photos. One, in a beautiful white frame, was Buffy and Spike’s wedding picture. Another featured them in standing outside Stonehenge, both grinning widely.

The trio had spent most of the day bringing in the big furniture pieces and now the women were arranging knick knacks and other little things to make the place more homey. Spike, proclaiming that decorating was a job for women, got out of it by promising to go out for food, for which both women were thankful.

“You two are so cute together,” Willow gushed, looking at the photos she just placed on the mantle.

“What?” Buffy turned around. She blushed, “Oh. You really think so?”

Willow nodded, “Definitely.” She moved away from the pictures back to the box. “I hope I can find what you two have,” she said a little sadly.

“Well, give it a little more time. I’m sure Mr. Right-for-you is out there somewhere.”

“I suppose.” She gave herself a quick shake and turned to Buffy. “Sorry.” She gave a look around the spacey apartment. “Well, I guess that’s it?”

************

Spike stood quietly in line, waiting his turn to order. The place was somewhat busy. Busier than he thought it’d be. A couple more people still waited in front of him. He was pleased that no one so far noticed him. While he loved his fans and was always courteous to them, it was still a little unnerving to have complete strangers come up to him, knowing who he was. In a way, it sort of put him at a disadvantage. And sometimes it was a little alarming. And disturbing. Like the middle-aged lady from the other day. He was giving her a hug when suddenly he felt a pinch on his ass. It shocked him. And scared him a little, too, not that he would ever admit that out loud.

He moved forward a little as the person at the front moved out of the way and the line shuffled.

He had absolutely no problem dealing with true fans. Those who were fans of the music. Who understood the music. He didn’t much like being treated as a piece of meat. The lady who had pinched his ass then asked him if he was up for it. With his wife standing not ten feet away.

Needless to say, Buffy had gotten incensed. And he couldn’t help but admit that he got a little turned on watching his tiny five-foot-nothing wife tear into the older woman.

He moved forward again. Finally, he was at the front of the line.

Spike smirked a little at the memory of his petite wife shouting at the older taller woman, threatening her, when he noticed Acid Reign’s album sitting out on the counter, near the cashier’s arm. The kid had yet to look up, busy pushing buttons on the cash register. Spike quickly decided he wasn’t going to draw attention to himself. He’d just look desperate for attention. And pathetic. No need for that.

“What can I get for you?” the college kid said, still looking down.

Spike began to rattle out his order, looking at the menu overhead and the slip of paper with Buffy and Willow’s preferences.

When he finished, the young man finally looked up, giving him his total. Spike fetched his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out the money. As he handed it over to the cashier, he noticed the kid’s eyes had widened significantly.

“You’re Spike,” he stated.

Spike smirked, “Do I look like him?”

The kid nodded.

“Then I must be ‘im.”

The kid grabbed up his album, “Can I have your autograph?”

“Course,” Spike said, taking the CD and, using a pen he found himself always carrying, signed it for the kid.

“T-Thanks,” the kid said. He handed Spike his order.

“You’re welcome.”

************

“Here we are, m’ladies,” Spike said as he entered the apartment. He dropped a kiss on Buffy’s lips as she greeted him, quickly taking the food from him and into the kitchen. Spike looked around their home, “Finished already?”

“Yeah,” Willow said, giving him a brief wave in greeting. She and Spike followed Buffy into the kitchen, where she was already digging into her food.

“What?” Buffy asked, looking at their faces. “I’m hungry.”

They were interrupted by a shrill ring tone. Spike jumped at the sound, but quickly recovered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell. He groaned when he looked at the caller ID.

He was really not wanting to deal with work today.

He looked at the two women. “Lorne. I’ll go into the bedroom to deal with him. Go ahead and get started.”

He flipped the phone open on his way to the bedroom, and barked, “What?”

Lorne was completely unfazed by the unfriendly greeting he received from his client. “Hello to you, too, cheekbones. You are a very difficult man to get a hold of. I‘ve been calling all day.”

Spike closed the door behind him, “Moving day, remember? I had my phone off most of the day.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, forgot, cupcake.”

Spike ignored the colorful pet names his manager always gave him, completely used to it by now. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I take it you haven’t heard the news yet?”

“What news?”

“Oh, sweetie, you better sit down for this.”

************

Spike reentered the living room, where Buffy and Willow were seated around the coffee table, eating.

He flopped down next to his wife and grabbed his sandwich.

“What did Lorne want?” Buffy asked, looking at him, taking in his somewhat shocked face. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, he wanted to tell me nominations for the BRITs came out today.”

Willow grinned, “Oh, which one did you guys get?”

He looked at her with a huge smile, “We got thirteen.”



END CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - The Red Carpet




Interview 2005

I’m a very private person. The people in my life, my family and friends, did not ask for this; this publicity. And I work very hard to keep my private life private. Out of the limelight. To protect them. And I’m happy to say, I’ve been very successful.


Late September 1997
London, England

“You ready, pet?” Spike called out, pacing the living room.

“Yeah, give me a few more minutes,” he heard her yell.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered quietly to himself. He’d been ready for thirty minutes now, whereas…she still wasn’t. He had gone for a typical rock star look, which he thought was appropriate. After all, this wasn’t a black-tie event. He had chosen to wear casual black slacks with a matching suit jacket. He wore an artfully distressed Ramones T-shirt underneath. A black studded belt and a chain bracelet and necklace completed the look. And his Docs. His hair was tousled with the curls unrestrained, just like Buffy loved it.

“Pet,” he yelled, “The limo’s not going to wait much longer for us.” When he heard about the limo the record label and his publicist set up for him, Spike had protested, proclaiming it to be a bit much. However, they wouldn’t hear it. It was, they said, expected of him to arrive in one. And so, they had the limo.

Looking out the window, he groaned when he saw his publicist exiting the limo. Anya Jenkins approached his home with determination. He moved to the door and opened it just as she raised her hand to knock.

“Anya, how are you?” Spike asked.

She pushed her way past him into the apartment. “What is taking so long? Don’t you understand we’re on a tight schedule here? I have to get you there, pronto. You have interviews to do.”

Spike looked at the closed bedroom door helplessly. He liked Anya. Really. He did. She was damned good at what she did. But she could be a bit much.

“Um -”

She interrupted, “Angel’s already there. Lorne just called me. Now, are we ready to go or not?”

“Buffy!” Spike called out loudly.

The bedroom door suddenly swung open and Buffy exited, rolling her eyes, moving swiftly for the front door. She knew he was nervous about tonight, and that was why she was going to let it go. He had a right to be nervous. It was a big night for him. She smiled at Anya, “Hey, Ahn. How are you?”

Anya smiled back, “I’m good. And you?”

“Great.” She grabbed her evening bag on the table by the door. “Well, are we going to go or not?” Buffy asked when she noticed he wasn’t moving.

“Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous,” he uttered, staring at her.

She wore a simple yet elegant knew length black dress. It hugged her curves in a very flattering way that he loved. Her hair was swept into a bun on top of her head, a few stray strands framing her face. And he found himself struggling to restrain himself from pushing her against the wall and taking her, to hell with Anya.

Buffy found herself blushing, something that always happened whenever he complimented her, no matter how frequent. And it was definitely something he made a point of doing everyday.

Spike gave himself a shake and approached her, taking her hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed them. “Now, love, are you sure you want to do this?”

Ah, there it was, she thought. He had spent the last week fretting about her first foray into the fray as it were. He didn’t want her to become fodder for the paparazzi. As he told her many times, he chose to but she didn’t have to. And yes, she was a little anxious about it, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“Will,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek, “I understand your concern. Really, I do. But I’m your wife and I want to be there with you sweep the competition.”

He gave a wry smile, “Don’t think we’ll be doing that.”

“Sure, you will.”

Deciding it was time to interrupt, Anya pushed both of them to the door, “Alright, already. Enough with the googly eyes. You two can have your orgasms -”

“Anya!” Spike exclaimed.

She continued as though he hadn’t said anything at all, “- later. But right now, let’s go.”


Interview 2000

It all feels very normal to me. This circus that is my life is completely normal. And, uh, it almost felt unnatural to me before I had this job. I never really felt like I fitted in. Uh, life felt a little empty, maybe?


Late September 1997
London, England

When they arrived at Earls Court, Anya exited the limo first, and proceeded to do her duty as publicist. She blended in the background, one of those unknown figures - to audience viewers, at least - remaining near Spike and his wife.

Spike looked at Buffy as he helped her out of the limo. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she took in the red carpet lined with fans, interviewers and photographers. She looked a little overwhelmed. He gave her hand he still held a kiss, “You okay, pet?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “On TV, it never looks quite so…”

“I know,” he said, understanding what she was trying to say. He squeezed her hand, “Don’t let go. Stay with me and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded and followed him as he led her forward. She found herself having several star-struck moments when she’d realize she was within speaking distance of many of the celebrities in attendance, and she would find herself stuttering when one happened to look her way. She was surprised at how at ease William was. This was his first award ceremony as well, but he looked like a seasoned pro as they made their way down the red carpet. They halted in front of a horde of photographers, standing on the blue X-shaped marker on the ground, dictating where they were to pause. Spike pulled Buffy close, arm wrapped around her waist as they allowed the cameras to flash and pictures to be taken.

He looked at her, “You okay, pet?”

She smiled, “Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded and he dropped a quick kiss on her lips, which was quickly captured by the eager photographers.

Spike gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to the cameras, signaling that it was enough, and tugged slightly on Buffy’s hand, leading her further down the red carpet. Her eyes continuously darted around, taking in all the sights. They were stopped shortly by a man wearing a headset, who asked instinctively knew to go to Anya to request an interview. Anya then whispered to Spike, asking him. He agreed and she informed the man that Spike would grant them a short interview. They waited patiently for the interviewer, a woman from MTV, to finish her current interview with Beck.

“I can’t believe that’s Beck,” Buffy whispered excitedly, eyes wide as she was no longer able to contain her enthusiasm.

Spike laughed, “I know, pet. I’m having a few of those moments, too.”

She looked at him, “Really? But you look so calm and cool. Like this is nothing.”

“All part of the gig. Trust me, pet, I’m jumping up and down on the inside.”

She pouted, “Are you making fun of me?”

“Of course not.” Spike tried to say something more, but Beck had left the interviewer and it was now his turn. He and Buffy approached the woman and listened as she introduced him.

“Well, Spike, you must be excited tonight. Thirteen nominations. I believe that’s unprecedented.”

“Yeah. It’s, uh, quite an honor.”

“Your career has just been sky rocketing. In part, people say, because of your unique sound. What are your influences? Musical or otherwise?”

“Oh, well, um… Bands like the Sex Pistols, the Ramones. Um, the Beatles. Even some crooners, some Motown - Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson. There’s quite a lot a musicians I’ve grown up listening to and admiring. And, uh, life really plays a huge part. Life definitely influences my lyrics, Angel’s music. Yeah.”

The woman smiled widely, “That’s interesting. Well, Spike, I want to thank you for taking the time to speak with us, and it looks like you’re being called away.”

Spike looked behind him and saw Lorne, standing next to Anya, waving at him and Buffy.

“Good luck tonight,” the woman finished.

“Thank you.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’ hand and led her over to his manager and publicist.

“There you are, Cheekbones,” Lorne said, holding his arms out as he approached them. “I have been looking all over for you.” He looked at Buffy, “Ah, me cherie. Look at you. Gorgeous.” He pulled Buffy close and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks.

Buffy blushed, “Thanks, Lorne.”

“So, Angel’s already in?” Spike asked.

“Oh, honey, he’s been in. Wanted to slip pass the media.”

“Did he?”

“Uh, no. He got caught by BBC1.”

Spike chuckled, “Well, sorry to hear that.”

“Never mind that. You two need to get in there. Shoo!” Lorne hurried them along.

“See you later,” Spike called as Lorne headed off, moving towards another client.

Lorne waved.

Spike turned to Buffy, holding out his arm, “Well, shall we?”


END CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN - Unprecedented

Late September 1997

Buffy and Spike were seated a few rows back near the aisle, with Angel and his date, Cordelia. They chatted for a few minutes until the ceremony began. And then Spike found himself somewhat bored. He was never really one to watch the awards ceremonies on television, finding them a little dull and pretentious. Now, as he sat here, a member of the audience and a nominee himself, he found that he really couldn’t amend his opinion.

Spike watched the host of the event spout out an introductory monologue that, he guessed, was supposed to be funny - and certainly, most members of the audience laughed along - and the first performance of the evening, and he mulled over this conundrum. He was certainly thankful and humbled by the band’s numerous nominations, no doubt about that. And while he didn’t much care for the showy spectacle currently being played out on stage before him, Spike couldn’t deny that he appreciated the recognition bestowed upon Angel and him. It was sort of an odd thing. But it was something that would have to wait for further reflection as the first category in which Acid Reign was nominated was presented.

Spike tuned in as the host announced the presenter to be Beck, who Buffy was ecstatic to see on the red carpet earlier. The musician approached the podium in the middle of the stage and smiled as the audience applauded. Then he launched into his spiel, reading off the teleprompter, with the occasional forced humor. Eventually, he read off the list of nominees.

“And the winner of the British single shortlist is,” Beck opened the envelope and looked at it. He smiled and said, “Acid Reign, ‘Hanging by a Moment.’”

And it was at that moment, that precise moment when Spike heard the band’s name read off, he knew and understood what the appeal of these award shows was. It wasn’t the overdrawn and overblown ceremony or the physical award itself, because really, that was just a hunk of metal.

No. It was that sudden onslaught of emotions. Disbelief. Amazement. Nervousness. All this was topped with overwhelming gratitude.

It was a rush.

He reached over, grabbed Buffy, who was applauding ecstatically, and kissed her hard but briefly before he and Angel got up and made their way to the stage.

Then it was somewhat of a blur. Later, Spike knew when he would try to recount the event, he wouldn’t remember the details as he stood on the stage, shaking hands with Beck and accepting the award from the young lady who accompanied Beck on the stage. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the microphone, next to Angel, who motioned for him to go first.

“Um,” Spike began nervously as the applause died down. “Wow. This is amazing. Bloody amazing it what this is. We’d, uh, like to thank firstly, the British Phonographic Industry for acknowledging our work. Wesley Windham-Pryce for believing in us when no one would. Our manager, Lorne, and our publicist, Anya. Um, all of those at Rough Trade Records. My parents, for letting me do this even though they were concerned. My beautiful wife, Buffy, for talking me into it. I love you. And, uh-” He looked at Angel, gesturing to the microphone.

Angel gave a brief nod and moved forward, “Uh, I’d just like to add thanks to my parents. And Cordelia. And everyone else who has supported us - whose names we may have forgotten throughout the years but have never truly forgotten. Thank you.” He stepped back.

Spike moved forward again and gave one last “Thank you” into the microphone before he and Angel moved to the exit on the side of the stage, amid wild applause.


Later

Spike and Angel returned to their seats once more. Needless to say, Spike had no idea that they’d be on that stage as often has they had been. They had just come back from their seventh time. They watched the producer of their album go to the stage twice.

Out of the thirteen nominations they or their album had received, they and their producer already won nine of them. It was enough to make anyone’s head spin. Spike knew his was.

The evening was finally winding down. Most of the awards had been given out and the bands slated for the night’s entertainment had already performed. There was only one more category left. And, of course, it was another one Acid Reign had been nominated for.

The crowd settled as the host, Ben Elton, took the microphone. “Please, welcome Oasis‘ Liam Gallagher, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. The audience dutifully cheered as the band members entered the stage. In Liam Gallagher‘s hand, he held one of the envelopes containing the name of the winner.

Everyone watched as the singer read his lines off the teleprompter, introducing the nominees for the category: Best British Album.

When he was finished reading off the nominees, Spike felt Buffy’s hand slip in his, squeezing tightly. He glanced at her and gave her a smile, bringing her hand to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

Gallagher opened the envelope, leaning into the microphone, “And the Brit goes to-” He unfolded the paper. “Acid Reign.”

The audience erupted as Spike and Angel glanced at each other once more, still surprised. Spike gave his wife another kiss and made his way to the stage for the tenth time that evening.

He met Angel’s gaze and they both shared a laugh as they scaled the stairs to the stage, both still feeling the rush despite the numerous times they had already done this.

Gallagher smiled at them and held his hand out. “Congratulations,” he said as he shook their hands.

“Thanks, mate,” Spike said, grinning as he held the tenth award in his hands. He approached the microphone again with Angel. They both turned to each other and shook each other’s hands excitedly.

Spike laughed into the microphone, “Wow. This is, well, unexpected. All of this, really. We don’t -” He looked at Angel, smirking, “-We don’t know what else to say, who else to thank that we haven’t…But again, thank you so much. This has been absolutely incredible. Again, thank you!”

He and Angel waved to the audience then moved to the exit on the left, following Liam Gallagher.


Later
Backstage

After they entered the backstage, the award was taken away from them, as it was only a prop used for onstage, and not the actual one they would receive with the band’s name engraved on it. Spike learned this the first time they went backstage and the award was snatched from them then, as well. He remembered reaching out, not believing they were going to take it away from him right after giving it to them. But his concern and worry had been quickly assuaged when they shoved the real thing in his hand.

Just like they did again tonight.

It was another thing Spike quickly learned about tonight. In no way was the ceremony actually glamorous. At least backstage. The men and women running around behind the scenes making sure that the evening ran smoothly didn’t care if you won. They didn’t care if you were in shock. They didn’t care if you were the next big thing or the thing. You had better not delay them.

And, in keeping with the motto of ‘no delays,’ Angel and Spike were immediately shuffled to the conference room, where hundreds of journalists and photographers were waiting. Before them, on the conference table, in a line were all ten awards they were given.

They stood for their photo, as the photogs instantly began flashing away. Then, they were told to take a seat at the table. Spike wasn’t too concerned about Buffy; he knew Lorne would find her until he was done with this. He gave a quick nod of acknowledgement as he saw Anya standing near the back of the room, smiling widely.

Immediately, journalists began shooting out questions one at a time, as though it was perfectly synched, and he and Angel were drawn into the somewhat lengthy exposition of answering.

“How does it feel to come away with ten wins tonight, more than any other act in a single night?”

Spike looked at Angel, smirking, letting him answer this question.

“It’s certainly a surprise. We weren’t expecting it. But, really, we’re quite honored. And humbled,” Angel said eloquently. Spike nodded in agreement.

There were several more questions in regard to the night and the wins. A few about the album itself and the inspiration behind it.

Finally, they got to the last question of the evening: “What are your plans next? Anything big?”

“I think we’re going to take a month off. Relax. Then, we’re off to the States,” Spike said, smiling.

END CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY - Party as Publicity

Later that Night
After-party


“Are you having fun, love?” Spike asked Buffy, handing her a fresh drink a few hours after the award show was finished. They were now at one of those famous after-parties. Tables were placed evenly throughout the ballroom. Food created by culinary chefs artfully decorated the expensive china placed at each table. Some of the partygoers were seated around those tables, eating, talking, and enjoying fine imported wine. Some, like Buffy and Spike, were standing around, talking amongst themselves.

Spike was concerned about Buffy because she was beginning to look a little overwhelmed. Not that he could entirely blame her. It certainly was a bit daunting. Particularly those damned photographers. When they arrived at the party with Angel and Cordelia, they found themselves once again being shoved into the spotlight, as photographers clamored to get pictures of the evening’s biggest winners.

It was a little intimidating. The flashes going off nonstop in their eyes, temporarily blinding them. Yeah, it was scary. And overwhelming.

And once they got inside, it still wasn’t over. Even more photographers were inside, documenting the evening for all the entertainment news shows and magazines. Celebrities were everywhere. Managers were everywhere. Publicists were everywhere. Anyone who mattered was everywhere.

Spike would have been perfectly content to just hop in the limo with his wife and head back home. But Anya told them they had to go.

Publicity.

They were about to hit the States in a big way within a month, she told him and Angel. They had just set the record for most wins by a single act in one evening. People would want to see them. People would want to get to know them. The two men had looked at each other, a certain amount of fear tinting both their features.

Angel, because he had never been comfortable in such gatherings. And Spike, because he was more concerned about Buffy. The party didn’t terrify him the way it did Angel, as he was more used to be looked and gawked at, being the front man of the band.

Buffy, of course, was most definitely not.

And Angel had managed to sneak away, leaving Spike to deal with the hoopla of this forced publicity. It annoyed Spike somewhat, because they were supposed to be in this together.


Buffy looked at Spike, eyes wide, “Yeah. Of course.”

He tilted his head at her, scarred eyebrow raised, “Really?”

Before she could respond, a man came up to Spike, “Congratulations, mate.”

Spike turned to him, shaking his extended hand, “Thank you.”

The man smiled then left. He was only about the fiftieth person to do so that evening. Seemed like everyone wanted to shake hands with the man of the evening, as it were. Spike sighed and rolled his eyes, turning back to Buffy.

“Are you sure? We could blow this joint, if you want,” he said, hoping she said ‘yes.’

She shook her head, “No. We can’t do that. You have to do your thing, otherwise Anya’s going to kick your ass.” She gave a small smile.

He rolled his eyes, “To hell with Anya and her damned publicity crap.”

“Spike,” she exclaimed, a little surprised.

“I’m sorry, pet. But I think I’ve shaken hands with most people here and had my ass kissed by everyone else.” He pouted, “And Angel already left, so why can’t I?”

Buffy looked at him, slightly startled, “He did? When?”

He sighed, “Saw him and Cordelia sneaking out ‘bout an hour ago.”

“Oh…he didn’t even say ‘goodbye.’”

“I know. Probably thought I could handle it on my own.”

“But he’s the other half of Acid Reign. He’s supposed to be here, too,” she said in disbelief.

Spike shrugged, “I know. It’s not that big a deal.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I don’t want to talk about Angel anymore. Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

She struggled with her answer. Yes, she did, but she knew that Spike had to put in his appearance. “We shouldn’t.”

He pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers, “Come on. Let’s go.” He gave her a brief kiss. “I want to celebrate with my wife. And I can’t do it here.”

A flash interrupted them, as they both looked at in the flash‘s direction, startled. Spike rolled his eyes in annoyance as he saw the photographer give a small shrug, uncaring, before he moved on. Damnit, could he not even have a private moment with his wife here?

“Case in point,” he muttered.

“There’s my two little lovebirds. Been looking all over for you.”

Buffy and Spike separated. “Lorne,” Spike said by way of greeting.

“How are you two this fine and lovely evening?” Lorne asked, grinning.

“Good. We’re good. We‘re-,” Buffy said, sounding forced.

“We’re bored,” Spike interrupted.

“What?” Buffy looked at her husband, then to Lorne, “No. No, we’re not. We’re having a gr-”

Lorne smiled, “Don’t fret, sugar. It doesn’t bother me in the least. I can completely understand. Anya can be a little -”

“Scary?” Spike asked, with a smile.

“Well, yeah. Look, if you two want to skedaddle, I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Really?” Buffy asked, hopeful.

“Sure thing. Why don’t you two sneak out the back door. I’ve already arranged for the limo to meet you out there.”

Spike grasped his manager’s hand, giving it a firm shake, “Thanks, mate.”

Lorne smiled, “Don’t mention it. Just figured after the night you’ve had, you deserve some quiet time with your wife.”

Spike smirked, “Oh, trust me, mate, it won’t be quiet.”

“William!” Buffy exclaimed, blushing profusely as she hit him across his chest.

He grasped her hand in his and chuckled, “Come on, love. Let’s get out of here.” He squeezed her hand, pulling her away.

Lorne laughed, “Have fun, lovebirds.”

“You too, mate,” Spike called out absently, dodging other partygoers as he guided his wife toward the back.



They slipped out the back, escaping the dreaded cameras of the paparazzi and journalists, and found the limo waiting, just like Lorne said it would be, with the driver waiting by the door. When he saw the musician and his wife approach, the man opened the door and helped Buffy into the limo. Spike climbed in after her and the driver shut the door behind them. He got into the driver’s seat and started up the engine, driving away from the party.


Spike, seeing the closed partition, turned to his wife, smirking, “Alone, finally.” He pulled her close, one arm around her waist as the other weaved through her hair, his lips capturing hers. Buffy groaned into his mouth, opening her lips slightly. He took the invitation and slipped his tongue past her lips.

His hand that was wrapped around her waist moved down to play with the edges of her skirt. His fingers danced across the silky skin of her thigh, sliding underneath her skirt.

She gasped as she felt him push the material, moving his hand up. “William,” she breathed into his mouth. Her hips jerked when he cupped her through her rapidly soaking panties.

“Will. What are you doing?” she gasped, glancing at the partition, where on the other side, the driver sat.

“Don’t worry, kitten. He can’t see us. Prolly can’t even hear us. Just let go.” His fingers skimmed across the waistband of her panties. He pushed them aside and his fingers ran across her labia, soaking in her wetness.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, gasping rapidly as his fingers ran up and down her slit.

Spike kissed her again, deeply, as his tongue wrapped around hers. He slipped a long finger inside her, thrusting it in and out, in tandem with the movements of his tongue.

Buffy broke the kiss with a heady gasp, panting as her forehead rested against his.

“Does this turn you on, love? Knowing that we might get caught at any time?” Spike whispered, breathing heavily as he was equally turned on.

“Oh, God. Don’t stop,” Buffy begged, as he slipped another finger in, his thumb massaging her clit.

“Speak to me of our first meeting,” Spike whispered into her mouth.

Buffy gasped, her hips raising up, “It was night, on the campus.” She moaned loudly. “Oh, God.”

“Go on,” Spike growled headily, adding a third finger, curling them as they pressed against that spongy spot that had Buffy gasping every time.

She was moaning with every breath as she tried to speak, “I was -” gasp - “trying to find the residence hall.” She gasped, her body tensing. Her hips began moving with his hand. “I was looking around when you spotted me.”

Her eyes squeezed tightly as her hand ventured down to wrapped around his wrist, pressing his hand harder against her pussy. “You came up to me and -” her words were beginning to spill out quickly as she near her climax. “- and tapped my shoulder, scaring me. I spun around and accidentally punched you in the nose.”

“And I knew you were the one,” Spike breathed against her mouth.

Buffy’s head flew back, as she gasped his name. She was beyond words now as he quickened his ministrations, thrusting his fingers as his thumb pressed against her clit hard, rubbing fiercely.

Within seconds, she was shaking and gasping as she came hard. Spike closed his eyes and groaned, as he felt her inner muscles squeeze his fingers tightly. When she came down from her high, he slid his hand from her skirt. He brought his fingers to his mouth, moaning as he tasted her juices.

He smiled as Buffy began giggling.

“Wow,” Buffy gasped, a smile spreading on her face. “That was hot.”

END CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Lust

1997
Later that Night

Spike and Buffy stumbled through the door, arms wrapped around each other, lips fused. They had barely made it out of the limo without losing control. Spike slammed the door shut with his foot as he picked Buffy up by her hips. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he turned them around, pressing her hard into the shut door. She groaned into his mouth, grasping the back of his head, pulling him even closer.

Spike hands ran down her neck to cup her breasts through her dress. Buffy broke the kiss to moan as he massaged them gently. His lips ran down her neck, licking, nipping, sucking. Buffy moved to kiss her way across his jaw line, nibbling gently. Spike’s hands abandoned her breasts briefly to lower the straps of her dress, pushing it down to gather at her waist.

Within seconds, his lips were wrapped around a nipple, sucking, as his fingers teased the other. Buffy’s head fell back against the door with a thud as she whimpered headily, “Oh, God.” Her hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders. Spike pressed his hips into hers as his arms dropped to let the jacket fall in a heap upon the floor. A foot absently kicked it out of the way as he pried her legs from his waist. As she stood, Buffy’s dress slid down to puddle around her feet, leaving her clad in only her soaked panties, stockings, and heels.

Spike stepped back briefly to divest himself of his shirt, tossing it carelessly aside. He dropped to his knees in front of her, running kisses down her abdomen. He spread her knees apart before burying his face in her lace-clad pussy. Buffy’s hands immediately flew to the back of his head, pressing him closer still. His fingers traced the trim of her panties before sliding them down her legs to join her dress. He helped her step out of both of them, before throwing them haphazardly behind him.

A hand trailed up her leg, to the back of her knee. He grasped it and pulled it up to rest on his shoulder. His eyes met her lust-filled ones as he lowered his head to her sex, running his tongue across her slit.

Her hips bucked against his mouth as a moan escaped her lips. Spike’s fingers trailed her inner thighs before parting her nether lips, opening her up to him. His lips closed around her clit, sucking.

Buffy’s hands tightened almost painfully in his hair as she gasped loudly, “Will! God!”

A long finger slid in and pumped as his tongue flicked across her clit. It wasn’t long before she was panting heavily, shaking as her orgasm neared. She was sure she would collapse, until Spike’s finger left her channel and his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer to his mouth as well as steadying her.

She mewled as his tongue slipped into her, moving in and out, lapping at her juices. His mouth closed around her clit once more and he sucked hard.

She screamed his name as her orgasm overtook her. Spike freed his hard cock from his pants and surged into her channel, pulling her legs around his waist before she came down completely.

Her inner walls still fluttered, grasping him, as he thrust in and out. Buffy pulled his mouth to hers, tasting herself on his tongue. It served only to arouse her even more.

Spike broke the kiss with a gasp, resting his forehead against hers as he pumped his cock. “Christ, you’re so bloody tight, love. Never get used to that.”

She gave him a smile and tightened her inner muscles, squeezing him even more so. His eyes rolled back as he groaned, “Fuck!” His hands slid down her arms, wrapping around her wrists. He brought them up and over her head, pinning them to the door behind them.

“Harder,” Buffy gasped between thrusts, her hips jerking up to meet his.

Spike obliged, speeding up his thrusts as his hips slammed into hers, grinding against her clit with each powerful thrust. His head dropped down as his lips captured a nipple. His teeth lightly grazed the tight dusky pink nub and she gasped, arching her back. He released her hands, resting one against the door as the other reached between their joined bodies and pinched the little bundle of nerves that sent her reeling.

She came without warning, gasping heavily, tightening around his driving cock.

He moaned and slowed his movements, attempting to stave off his own climax, wanting the evening to last. He wrapped his arms around her legs and pulled out of her with a groan, bringing her legs down. Without words, Buffy grinned and slide down his body to her knees. She grasped his cock in her hand and pumped it a few times before sliding her lips onto the head, tasting their combined juices.

“Oh, shit,” Spike gasped, nearly stumbling forward, a hand catching himself on the door. He brought his other hand down to tangle his fingers in her locks as she took more of him into the hot cavern of her mouth, moaning around him. Her hands slid his pants down to the ground before wrapping around the base of his cock and squeezing lightly.

“Buffy,” he breathed, his eyes closed tightly.

Buffy sucked eagerly on his cock, cheeks hollowed, and her hands cupped and massaged his balls. Her mouth glided up, circled around his head once more, and her tongue teased the slit. Spike’s hips thrust forward uncontrollably, forcing more of himself into her mouth. She opened her jaw and relaxed her throat, taking him all the way in.

Spike growled inhumanly as his intense arousal took over. He pulled himself out of her mouth and pushed her onto her back, on the hardwood. He kicked his shoes and pants off before dropping to his knees. He pulled her knees high upon his waist. He surged into her with a loud groan, as he lowered to kiss her.

Buffy groaned and gasped with each hard thrust, her hips jerking to meet his. Her fingers bit into his back, leaving crescent indentations in his skin. Spike grinded his hips into hers, trapping her clit between their bodies. With each downward thrust, he twisted his hips, ensuring that he hit that bundle of nerves that sent her screaming with every down stroke.

“Come for me again, love,” he gasped into her mouth.

With a final twist of his hips, Buffy’s third orgasm slammed into her. Her inner walls clenched wildly around his cock. And, with a few more jerky thrusts, Spike joined her, crying out her name.

He collapsed against her, letting her legs down, massaging her hips. They both were panting heavily, resting their foreheads together. Spike pulled his upper body up, resting on his elbows, in an attempt not to crush her.

“Love you,” he whispered.

“Love you, too,” she replied, sleepily.

Spike smiled adoringly, rolling off her. He got to his shaky feet and picked her up, an arm around her shoulders and another around the back of her knees.

“Let’s get you to bed, kitten.”

She moaned in agreement, throwing an arm around his neck, snuggling closer, as he carried her to their bedroom.

END CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Auditions



1997
The Next Morning

BEEP!

BEEP!

Spike reached out and slapped the alarm clock off. He rolled over onto his side, pulling Buffy closer, spooning, her back to his chest.

Her eyes opened as she felt him place kisses along her neck. “Morning, sexy,” she said, turning her head to kiss him quickly.

He groaned, “Don’t wanna get up.”

And he really didn’t. Despite the duo’s amazing success at the BRITs last night, he was still expected to meet up at the studio with Angel and Lorne to audition a new back up band that would travel with them to the States in a month’s time and possibly work with them on their first world tour that was coming soon.

“I don’t want you to, either,” Buffy said, turning around completely to face him, propping herself up on her elbow.

Spike mirrored her position, leaning in to kiss her again. He ran a hand casually down her arm before tangling his fingers with hers that were resting on her hip. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, finally resting it on against his chest, over his heart.

Suddenly, the phone rang, startling them both. Spike grabbed the phone off the nightstand.

“Yeah?”

He immediately pulled the phone away from his ear when the excited screaming came through.

Buffy giggled, hearing it. “Dawn?” she mouthed.

He nodded. Cautiously, he returned the phone to his ear.

“Why didn’t you call me?!” Dawn shrieked.

He groaned. He forgot that the award ceremony wouldn’t air on television until tonight. Dawn, he assumed, found out through the media. He sat up, running his free hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “I’m sorry, Lil’ Bit. I guess I was a little distracted.” He leered at Buffy, who giggled, burying her head in her pillow.

Dawn, who heard Buffy’s laughter, groaned, “Ugh. Never mind. I don’t want to know. But, seriously, Will, you guys, like, set the record.”

“Yeah? So I’ve heard.”

“Yep. Ten in one night. That’s never been done before. I am so tickled pink right now. I am going to be the envy of my classmates today.”

Spike chuckled, a little uncomfortable. “It’s not that big a deal, Dawn. I doubt it’d change anything.”

“Are you kidding? It could change everything.” She cleared her throat, sensing it could be an awkward conversation and tried to move forward. “So, I take it you haven’t told Mum and Dad yet?”

He sighed, “No. No, not yet.”

“Well, you better tell ‘em soon. Before they find out like I did.”

“I know. I am sorry about that, by the way. I’ll call ‘em on my way to the studio.”

“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll let you go. Congratulations. Say ‘hi’ to Buffy for me.”

“Thanks. And I will.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Spike placed the cordless phone back on the nightstand before turning back to his wife. He gave her another quick kiss.

Well, he intended for it to be a quick kiss. But Buffy’s hands grasped his head and held him as her tongue slipped in, tangling with his. He groaned and shifted, laying on his back on the bed, pulling her close, never breaking the kiss.

He gasped into her mouth when he felt her grasp his hardening cock, slowly pumping.

Breaking the kiss briefly, he smiled, “Why, Mrs. Giles, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?” she whispered against his lips.

He pretended to contemplate the matter at hand, “I suppose I could be persuaded to stick around a little longer.”

Buffy straddled him and, without preamble, impaled herself on his cock. Spike’s hands grasped her hips tightly, “Christ!”

She grinned. Her hands came to rest on his chest, steadying herself as she began a steady rhythm. Her head fell back as she swiveled her hips, his cock hitting that spot inside her. She gasped every time he filled her.

Spike’s hands couldn’t stay still for long. They moved up to cup her breasts, playing with her nipples. She fell forward, hands resting beside his head, as her pace began to quicken. He capture a nipple in his mouth and sucked.

She moaned loudly. He never ignored one for too long, moving back and forth between her breasts, rolling the nipples into tight nubbins.

Buffy started shaking and Spike knew that she was close. He pushed her up again, grasping her hips tightly as he thrust up against her harder. She watched him through half-closed lids, her rhythm never faltering. She smiled and he watched her fingers move to play with her clit. She rubbed it, applying pressure.

It wasn’t long before she was coming, falling forward as her walls massaged his cock. He roared and rolled them over, pumping fiercely before he joined her climax. Collapsing, he rolled off her, panting loudly.

“Love you,” she said.

He stole a kiss, “Love you, too.” They laid quietly together for a few moments, holding each other.

Glancing at the alarm clock, Spike groaned. “Well, duty calls and all. I’ll see you tonight. You go back to sleep,” he said quietly. He gave her another quick kiss.

He threw the sheets off and got up, heedless of his nudity. Buffy watched as he moved around the room, retrieving clothing. She called his name as he approached the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” he turned.

She smiled, “I am proud of you. You know that, right?”

He grinned and nodded, “I know, pet.”

*********

“So, where you’d go last night?” Spike asked as he seated himself beside Angel in the rehearsal studio.

Angel, meanwhile, looked apologetic, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave you stranded. Certainly wasn’t my intention. Just got a bit overwhelmed, you know?”

Spike nodded in understanding, “I know, mate. Really, I do.” However, he was also annoyed at Angel’s behavior, despite what he had told Buffy. “But, next time, could you, I don’t know, let me know? We‘re both in this together. We‘re a band. Not a solo act. I just need to make sure you‘re not gonna bloody abandon me again, because you don‘t like being the center of attention.”

Angel nodded, somewhat chastised, “Of course. I know that, Spike. Just give me some time to get used to all this. I‘ll try not to do that to you again.”

Spike didn’t want press the issue any further especially when they were about to spend the day, or next several days rather, auditioning their backup band. So he let him off, “Okay then.”


Lorne, who enlisted the help of Willow, was busy in the lobby, corralling the hopefuls. It seemed that way more people showed up than expected. Probably had to do with Acid Reign’s multiple wins last night. No doubt, there were a few crackpots in the crowd that weren’t serious about auditioning and Lorne knew Spike and Angel were trusting his instincts to pick them out and show them the door.

He and Willow looked at one another with a mix of apprehension and fear as they studied the seemingly ever-increasing group of musicians.

Taking a deep breath, Lorne spoke up, “Listen up, everyone.” The hopefuls quieted quickly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I need you all to queue up and give this lovely lady -” he pointed to Willow, “your name and we’ll start getting this show on the road.”



Lorne opened the door and entered the room with an interesting looking man carrying a bass. The man had a mohawk with the tips dyed pink. Multiple piercings adorned his face, and numerous tattoos decorated his body. He was running his fingers down his goatee nervously.

“Angel, Spike, this here is Brad. Brad Henriks,” Lorne said.

The man approached the two, holding out his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said politely, shaking their hands.

“Let’s hear what you got,” Spike said.

As Brad began playing, Spike and Angel glanced at each other, both thinking the same thing. Today was going to be a very long day.

END CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Preparations


Interview 1998

The day I got the phone call from my manager…was a day I’ll never forget.

November 1997
London, England

Spike and Buffy were spending a rare afternoon at Angel and Cordelia’s home, along with Willow. However, it wasn’t a social visit, per se. Acid Reign was two months away from their first big tour. And one week away from their big promotion tour of the United States, including stops at Jay Leno and David Letterman. So, while Cordy, Buffy, and Willow were chatting with each other across the room, Angel and Spike were seated at the grand piano, going over their music, rearranging it for live performance.

The girls, seated around a small table, watched as the men went over the sheet music. On occasion, Angel would play a little of a melody before Spike joined in.

“So,” Buffy said, turning to Cordelia as Spike hummed the melody of a song in the background, “Willow tells me you’re an actress?”

Cordy smiled, “Yep.” Then she hesitated, then conceded, “Well, I’m trying to be an actress. Haven’t had my breakthrough yet.”

Buffy smiled, “There’s still time.”

Cordy nodded, “Of course. I haven’t given up yet. Besides,” she motioned to Spike and Angel, “not everyone can have their luck.”

“They had quite a journey to get there, too, though,” Buffy said thoughtfully, remembering their fight and determination. “If you want something bad enough, it’ll come.”

“You’re right. Speaking of journey, are you coming along next week?”

Buffy moaned, “No. I want to. But, classes are kicking my ass right now.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re getting your Ph.D. How’s that going for you?” Willow asked.

“Oh, kill me now.” She dramatically dropped her head down on the table, “What on earth was I thinking?”

The thud of her head hitting the surface distracted Spike and Angel, who stopped what they were working on to look in their direction.

“Is everything alright, love?”

Without looking at him, she gave him the thumbs-up sign. “Everything’s fine.”

Spike looked at the other girls, brow raised in question.

“Willow did the mistake of asking her how her dissertation was going,” Cordy said with a smile.

“Ah. I see.” With a small laugh, Spike and Angel returned to their task at hand.

Willow smiled and returned to their conversation, “That bad, huh?”

Buffy lifted her head and gave a little whine.

“So, what are you working on?” Cordy asked with a smile.

Buffy looked at her, brow raised questioningly.

“Pretend I care,” Cordy amended, waving her hand.

Buffy sighed dramatically then launched into her seemingly well-rehearsed spiel, as though she’d been waiting for the opportunity to discuss it.

“I’ve decided to look at Leonardo’s Mona Lisa. Yeah, I know. Everyone knows about that painting, but I’m taking what is apparently a new approach to it.” She shrugged, “Personally, I thought it was common sense, but when I started researching, I discovered no one seems to look at Leonardo’s work in comparison to what was going on around him. Like he lives in a freakin’ bubble.”

“So, you’re popping the bubble?” Willow asked, slowly.

“Exactly. So, I’m taking the Mona Lisa and comparing it to the many other female portraits done at the same time. How was Leonardo’s different? How was it similar? Hell, for that matter, just how perfect is the Mona Lisa? I mean, have you noticed her blobby hands? Or his outrageous perspective in the background? For someone who liked to complain about Botticelli’s and other fellow artists’ lack of correct perspective, he wasn’t exactly that great at it himself. Or, if you really want to shake up the art world, did you know that there may be more than one Mona Lisa? That the one in the Louvre might not be the original? It‘s certainly not the one that Giorgio Vasari describes in his Lives.”

“Hmm…really?” Cordy said, thoughtfully. “So, how would one go about proving that?”

Excited that she managed to attract Cordy’s attention, Buffy took a deep breath and began, starting her conversation with Raphael this time. “Well, Raphael is well-known to have loved the Mona Lisa. In fact, he loved it so much, he copied it. A bunch of times. Which of course would have been impossible if the painting really was in France with Leonardo at the time…”


Meanwhile, across the room, while the girls discussed art, Spike and Angel were hard at work. Angel was seated on the piano bench as Spike leaned against the back Of the piano.

“On Moon and Back, I’m thinking maybe we could rearrange that to be a piano ballad. Fit it in the middle with the other ballads,” Angel said as he examined the sheet music he’d written for the song.

“I like that idea,” Spike said.

Angel placed the music on the piano, studying the notes on both staffs, deciding where the important melodies laid, and his fingers glided across the keys. He played a few introductory notes. Instinctively, Spike joined in right when he should.

“She’s taking her time
Making up the reasons
To justify all the hurt inside
Guess she knows
From the smiles and the look in their eyes
Everyone’s got a theory about the bitter one -

Spike halted his singing, saying, “I like it. Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Alright. Good. So, that’s two and a half ballads,” Angel said, referring to the one song that they shortened so that they could use it as a sort of segue to blend into the other after.

Angel’s phone then rang on the kitchen counter. He quickly got up and answered it.

“Yeah?…Yes, he’s here, too. I’ll put you on speaker phone. Hold on.”

Spike looked at him questioningly as Angel placed the caller on speaker.

“Okay. What is it, Lorne?” Angel asked.

“Oh, Angelcakes,” Lorne said excitedly. “Cheekbones, you listening?”

“Yeah, mate,” Spike said, leaning against the counter.

“Oh, you two aren’t going to believe it. This promotion tour couldn’t be better timing. Aren’t you excited?” Lorne asked animatedly.

“We might be if you told us why we should be, mate,” Spike said dryly.

“Oh, sorry. Your single, the one that was just released a couple of weeks ago in America - it’s shot up to the top of the Billboard Hot 100.”

Angel and Spike stared at each other, amazement coloring both their expressions.

“Did you hear me?” Lorne asked when he received no answer. “You guys are number one.”



Interview 1999

Gaining popularity in your own country is amazing in and of itself. And I will be forever grateful for that.

But, as anyone will tell you, the music world in the States…that’s the hardest place to make it. And when you do, when you take that country by storm…

It’s a complete rush.

It’s unbelievable.



END CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Behind the Scenes

One Week Later
November 1997
Burbank, California

Two black SUVs, one towing a trailer, pulled up to the back entrance of the NBC Studios. It was early in the afternoon and the ever bright Californian sun shone down as the vehicle’s occupants were greeted by a couple of LA’s finest, for their protection.

The back passenger door of the first SUV opened and the crowd behind the barricades across the way went wild, erupting into screams. However, they died down abruptly when a red-headed woman stepped out, carrying a big tote bag.

“Wow,” Willow joked as the front passenger door opened. “You’d think they were disappointed.”

“Of course, they were. You’re not who they wanted to see,” Anya said seriously, missing Willow’s humor, purposely or otherwise, as she exited the front passenger side.

Willow glared at her, “It was a joke, Anya.”

“Well, it wasn’t a very good one,” Anya stated matter-of-factly.

“Ladies, can we please not?” Spike asked pleadingly as he stepped out behind Willow. The crowd erupted once again, nearly drowning out his voice. He raised his eyebrow at the two women who looked at him with twin annoyed expressions on their faces. He and Angel shared a look as the bigger man came up to Spike’s side.

For reasons unexplained to him, Spike discovered recently the apparent discontent the two women harbored for each other. Why? Beat the hell out of him. Neither would give him a straight answer when he asked them.

Now that the women had chosen to redirect their glares his way, he shrugged it off helplessly and turned to face the cheering crowd.

As he and Angel waved to the, the backup band and roadies exited the other vehicle and began to unload their equipment. Spike grinned as he was able to discern some of the cries from the cacophony of sound.

“I love you!”

“Spiiiike!”

“Angel!”

He stepped forward one step with the intention of signing some autographs, eliciting even louder screams. But Anya grabbed his arm and began directing him to the building.

“Come on, boys,” she said insistently. “You’ve got to get in there. You can sign afterwards.”

“Fine, fine,” Spike said. He and Angel managed to give one last wave to their adoring fans before allowing themselves to be led inside, followed by Willow.



The show had yet to begin taping. And the audience had yet to fill the seats. But it was still hectic on the set. Grips, gaffers, and other workers were running around, checking and rechecking equipment.

Anya led them to the show’s stage manager. She smiled widely and shook the man’s hand. “How are you? It’s been a while,” she asked politely.

“Been good. You?” the man asked.

“Great. I’ve been great. Well,” she stepped aside, “Here they finally are. Acid Reign.”

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Spike, Angel,” the man said, shaking their hands. “I’m Kevin Quinn. Jay’s in the back. He’s been wanting to meet you. But, in the meantime, why don’t we get you guys all set up.”

“Alright,” Spike said.

“This way,” Kevin said, leading the band to the stage. Already, the roadies and other band members were setting up their equipment the way they preferred it. Daniel, one of the roadies, handed Spike and Angels their head sets. Spike thanked him and placed the ear pieces in his ear. After turning on the battery pack, he tucked it in the back of his waistband. The setup complete, the band went to their respective places. The sound guy of the show let them know that he was going to test the microphones. One by one, the man asked the drums to play, followed by the bass, keyboards, rhythm guitar, and Angel on the lead guitar. Finally, he asked Spike, who chose something from the Ramones, to sing into the microphone.

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated
Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated
Just get me to the airport put me on a plane
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane


“Alright, I think I’ve got them set up. If you guys want to run through it, go ahead.”


*****************

After their brief sound check, which went off without a hitch, the Acid Reign back up band found themselves in the green room. Willow and Anya were among them. Willow sat on the couch, somewhat bored, twiddling her thumbs as she waited for Spike and Angel to come from their meeting with Jay Leno. She scowled in Anya’s direction, where the publicist was sitting at a round table, cell phone to her ear as she dealt with her other clients’ business.

She really didn’t want to strike up a conversation with the other woman. She didn’t like her. Hadn’t since college. Yes, it was quite a small world, to discover that she and Anya were connected through Spike. After graduation, she had sincerely hoped that she would never again set her eyes upon the blatantly blunt woman. Their mutual dislike towards one another was something Willow knew confused Spike. After all, neither one of them would tell him exactly why they didn’t like each other. And, to be honest, Willow doubted she would tell him. At least, not any time soon.

The door of the green room opened and Spike and Angel entered. Angel went to the corner of the room to meditate or whatever it was that he did before a performance. It was during those times that he would become quieter than normal. Not that he was very loquacious to begin with. Spike plopped down on the sofa next to Willow.

“So, how’d it go?” Willow asked, referring to their meeting with Leno.

Spike shrugged nonchalantly, “He was an okay bloke. Seemed decent enough.”

“Good. That’s good.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, turning their attention to the television across the room. And they stayed like that for a good long while until Spike’s incessant knee jerking got to Willow.

“Spike!” she whispered loudly.

“What?” he asked surprised.

She motioned harshly to his jerking knee.

“Oh. Sorry, Red. Wasn’t even aware I was doing it.” He forced himself to stop.

“Are you nervous?” she asked understandingly.

“A little bit,” he conceded. “But I’m more worried ‘bout Buffy.”

“What do you mean? Is something wrong?” Willow asked, concern tainting her voice.

He sighed, “The morning I was gettin’ ready for my flight, she kept throwing up. And then, this morning, when I called her, she had to cut the call short because she had to throw up again. ‘M just worried she’s working herself too much. Making herself sick.”

“Is she going to go to the doctor’s?”

Spike smiled, “You know as well as I do, Red, that you can’t make Buffy do what Buffy doesn’t want to do.”

“True enough. But, seriously, if she doesn’t get better soon, you may have to.”

At that point, their conversation was cut short when the band was told that it was their turn to hit the stage of their first American show.

“I know, Red,” Spike said as he followed the band out the door.

********

Unsurprisingly, the performance went off without any problems. And, shortly afterwards, they were sent on their merry way. The band’s equipment was dismantled and loaded onto the trailer quickly and Spike, Angel, Willow, and Anya were out the backdoor.

They were greeted by the cheers of the dedicated fans who stuck around, waiting patiently.

“Okay. Now you can go sign,” Anya said. “But make it quick.”

“Thank you,” Spike said with a smile as he and Angel made their way to the crowd. Behind them, the studio’s security officers tailed them, ready to handle the fans should they get too rowdy.

The two men made their way to one side of the line of people. They reached out and shook hands, signed autographs and posed for pictures with the fans. Spike smiled at each and every one, listening intently to their words and responding.

“I love your voice,” said one girl as he kindly shook her hand.

He smiled and tilted his head, “Thanks, pet.”

“When are you guys going to tour?” another fan asked.

Spike looked at Angel, questioningly, “Probably the summer, right?”

Angel nodded, “Yep.”

And so the questions and answers continued down the line. Spike and Angel tried their best to answer as truthfully as they could while maintaining their privacy if the questions got to be too personal. However, the fans were understanding and respectful when the two musicians would decline to answer some of the questions. And this behavior, in turn, caused Spike and Angel to respect their fans even more so.

Eventually, they reached the end of the line, having given their attention to each and every fan waiting. After giving one final wave, Spike and Angel headed back to where the others were waiting. Willow smiled at them as Anya tapped her foot incessantly, looking pointedly at her watch.

“What’s wrong, Anya? Got somewhere to be?” Willow asked sweetly.





END CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - The Artist and the Art Historian


Meanwhile
November 1997
London, England

“Uh, Buffy, are you sure you’re okay?” Dawn’s voice filtered through the closed bathroom door. “Because if not, we can always do this later.”

Buffy sat up on her knees, fighting the urge to throw up in the toilet again. “No,” she answered weakly. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Dawn opened the door to watch as Buffy stood on shaky legs before moving to the sink. She turned on the faucet and dampened a wash cloth. Dawn leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, as Buffy ran the wet cloth across her brow. She then grabbed her toothbrush and slathered on some tooth paste before frantically attempting to erase the taste of bile from her mouth.

“Like hell you’re gonna be fine,” Dawn finally said when Buffy spit out the paste and rinsed her mouth out.

“Dawn,” Buffy said, annoyed. “I’ll be fine.”

Dawn looked at her disbelieving. “And how long has this been going on?”

Buffy sighed, “Only a couple of days. It started the day Will left for the US. It’s probably just something I ate. It’ll pass. It’s never lasted more than a few minutes at a time.”

Dawn raised her eyebrow, looking very much like her brother, but she didn’t press the issue any further. “Okay. If you say you’re feeling better, fine. I believe you.”

“No, you don’t. You’re just humoring me.”

“Maybe. So, are we going or not?”

Buffy nodded, “Yes, we’re going.”

Dawn smiled, “Good. I have a paper due tomorrow and I still haven’t picked a painting to write about.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in alarm, “Dawn!”

The younger woman laughed, “I’m kidding. Really. It’s not due until next week.”

Buffy released a breath, “You scared me for a moment.” She sighed, “But even then, that’s not very long.”

Dawn shrugged, “It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t take me long to write papers.”

“Whatever you say. Just don‘t try calling me at four in the morning the day it‘s due begging for my help.” Buffy checked her appearance quickly in the mirror, making sure she didn’t look like she just spent time puking her guts out. Brushing a few errant strands of hair behind her ears, she considered herself presentable. “So, are we ready to go?”

“You bet.”

********

“Okay, so you have to pick out something between 1400 and 1700, right?” Buffy asked Dawn as the two girls entered the National Gallery.

“Yep. I figured, who better to ask than the Renaissance Ph.D.-in-training,” Dawn said with a smile and little skip as she came up side by side with her sister-in-law.

Buffy gave a giggle at Dawn’s enthusiasm. Even though the younger woman was in her early twenties, she still held a certain child-like innocence about her. It was contagious.

“Well, are you wanting to do something that‘s more well-known?”

Dawn shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Buffy shrugged her shoulders, “I guess it depends on how much digging you’re willing to do in a week’s time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The more well-known the artist and the work of art, the more likely you’ll be able to find sources. On the other hand, the less well-known the artist is, the more likely you’ll be digging and digging, getting more and more desperate with the passing time. Believe me, I know,” Buffy said, thinking of the hell she went through with her Egyptian Master’s thesis.

Dawn shook her head, “Let’s go with easier.” She looked down at her pamphlet, “What about Raphael? He‘s got to be easy to find stuff on.”

Buffy grimaced, “Um, not really.”

“Huh? But you just said the more well-known-”

“I know. I thought he would be, too. But, he…isn‘t. Doesn’t even have a monograph with his work.”

“Well, okay, then. I guess I won’t be doing him.”

“Let’s just go see what we see. How about that?”

“Okay. I can do that.”


Later

“Wow,” Dawn breathed as she and Buffy stopped before one of the famous paintings that the gallery displayed. “The detail is amazing.”

Buffy nodded, “I know. I’m not an expert in Early Netherlandish painting, but I’m a little familiar with this one.”

Dawn looked at the identification plaque beside the painting, “The Arnolfini Portrait. Jan Van Eyck.”

“Yep.”

The painting was slightly smaller than three feet by two feet, causing Dawn, as she was an artist herself, to gawk at the immense detailing. “Was he a miniaturist or something? I mean, how did he manage to get so many tiny little details on such a small panel?” She leaned in as close as she could without a docent telling her to back away. “Look at her sleeves; at the…what’s it called?”

“Dagging? I’m not sure either,” Buffy said, leaning in to study the artfully cut sleeves.

“So, how much do you know about this painting?” Dawn asked, crossing her arms as she looked at her sister-in-law.

“Well,” Buffy cleared her throat. “I know that it’s considered one of the most complex and original paintings in western history.” She pointed to the convex mirror in the background of the painting, below the graffiti-like inscription, ‘Johannes de Eyck fuit hic. 1434.’ “The mirror’s a little bigger than they really would have been in real life, but take a look at the details van Eyck painted. We have scenes of The Passion aligning the mirror. And then, within the mirror, we of course have the reflection of the scene before us. And we can even see the artist himself. It’s sort of like Velasquez’s Las Meninas, but more complex and contains a true reflection. Do you know that one?”

Dawn nodded.

And Buffy continued explaining the painting, getting in full art-historian-mode, “We can tell what time of year it is by looking at the tree just outside the window. Summer. The two main subjects of the painting are very well dressed, but they are not nobles.”

“How can you be sure?” Dawn asked.

“Their clothing is expensive, that’s for sure. Fur-lined…even though it’s summer. But, despite the expensiveness of the clothes, they’re still…I don’t know,” she struggled for the right word, her hands gesturing wildly. “Restrained. Usually, when we deal with portraits of nobles, we see way more jewelry than we see here. And decorations and patterns on the fabric itself. Here, the woman wears a simple necklace and a couple of rather plain rings. And their clothing, well, you can see, is rather plain,” Buffy said, pointing out the details as she went along.

Dawn suddenly gave a little giggle, startling Buffy.

“What?” Buffy asked.

“Oh, nothing, really. It’s just -” she pointed to the woman’s left hand. “-The artist is so meticulous in all the details, but look at her hands. I mean, really, her fingers are freaky.”

Buffy studied the hand, looking at what Dawn was saying, before laughing along with her. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Speaking of funny hands,” Buffy said, as the two giggled on their way to the next painting, “have you ever notice the Mona Lisa’s pudgy hands?”




END CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Christmas Gatherings and Surprises

December 23, 1997
London, England

Buffy was in the living room, sitting on the sofa, with several rolls of wrapping paper on the coffee table before her, along with the necessary accoutrements. She smiled to herself as she heard her husband rushing around in the bedroom, attempting to get dressed. She tore a piece of tape free from its dispenser. She pulled the loose end of the wrapping paper around the gift, making it taut, before sticking the tape down. A loud crash from the bedroom startled her.

“Will? Is everything okay?” she called out, concerned.

“Bloody hell!” The bedroom door swung open and Spike rushed out. “Buggering hell, I’m late. Final rehearsal for two weeks and I’m not there.”

“Will. Calm down,” Buffy said, standing to approach him. “It’s okay. While you were getting ready, I called Angel and let him know. He said he’ll run the songs with the band until you get there.”

Spike released a relieved sigh, “Thanks, pet.”

She gave him a leering smile, “Besides, it’s kinda my fault you’re running late in the first place.”

Spike laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist, dropping a deep kiss on her mouth. “I don’t recall complainin,’ love.”

“Besides,” she said, her nose scrunching, “With both our parents spending the holidays with us, we won’t be able to - you know.”

Spike laughed, “You’re bloody adorable. And, don’t worry, I won’t forget to swing by the airport to pick up your parents after rehearsal.”

“Okay. And your mom also called while you were in the bedroom. They’re on their way. Should be here in a few hours.”

“You’re fine to greet them on your own?”

Buffy smiled, “Of course. Now-” she pushed him towards the door, “-go. Don’t keep the guys waiting longer than necessary.”

“Alright.” He gave her one last kiss and was out the door.


A Few Hours Later

The door opened quickly after the first knocks, revealing Spike’s parents, Anne and Rupert Giles.

Anne smiled warmly at her daughter-in-law, “Buffy. It’s been a long time.”

“Mrs. Giles. Mr. Giles.”

“Please, Anne. Call me Anne,” the older woman said, before enveloping her in a hug.

“Anne,” Buffy conceded.

They parted and Buffy looked at her father-in-law.

“Just Giles,” he said kindly before also hugging her briefly.

As the in-laws entered the home, Buffy said, “Will’s at rehearsal right now. Afterwards, he supposed to pick up my parents at the airport and bring them here.”

“That’s fine. It gives us time to catch up,” Anne said with a smile.

“Could you show me where we’re staying? I feel like I could take a brief kip,” Giles said, carrying the luggage.

“Oh! Of course. You’ve had a long drive. Of course, you’re tired,” Buffy babbled. “This way.” She led him up the flight of stairs to one of the guest rooms she had prepared.

“Thanks, dear.”

********

Buffy and Anne laughed over their hot chocolate as they relayed stories about William.

“So, we were walking down the street, near the studios, and there was Sarah Michelle Gellar, that actress he swears looks just like me on that new vampire show. And Will, despite playing it very cool at the BRITs with all those celebrities, yelled out, ‘I love you, Sarah!,’” Buffy said with a grin as she retold the story from their previous time in LA.

“Oh, my,” Anne said, laughing. “And what did he do after that?”

“She turned around to look, but Will dodged behind a building. He was so embarrassed,” Buffy finished with a giggle.

“I’ll bet.” Anne took a sip of her cocoa. “So, Buffy, how far along are you?” She smiled when Buffy did her best impersonation of guppy crossed with a deer caught in headlights.

“How did you -”

“I can just tell.”

Buffy’s hands fell to her abdomen, “Does it show?”

Anne shook her head, “Not yet. Does William know?”

Buffy unconsciously let out a relieved sigh when the front door opened, effectively ending that line of conversation. She simply wasn’t up for having that conversation with her husband’s mother just yet.

She quickly stood up from the breakfast bar she and Anne had been using to greet her parents and husband. She threw herself into the waiting arms of Joyce. Behind her, she heard Anne embrace her son. After her mother, Buffy hugged her father.

“Oh, I missed you guys. How was the flight?” Buffy asked, grinning happily.

“Long,” Joyce said tiredly.

“Oh, I thought I heard voices,” Giles said, coming into the room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hello, son,” he said when he spotted Spike.

Spike smiled, “Da’.” The two men shook hands, as though they were too manly for hugs.

Later

The three men sat in the living room debating the difference between American football and British Football and why the Americans called their sport football when in fact, they didn’t use their feet at all.

The women gathered in the kitchen, preparing a small dinner before everyone went to bed. They were going to save the big dinner for the next day.

“Well, honey, you two have a very lovely home. Though, I will admit, your father and I thought it’d be…bigger,” Joyce said as she began slicing the vegetables to be added to the salad.

Buffy smiled, “Thanks, Mom. But we decided that we really didn’t need anything too elaborate. Nothing fancy. Just a place to call home.” And indeed, she was right. Their home was a standard sized home. Two bedrooms. Two bathrooms. While it was definitely true that they could have gone bigger, especially since William was raking in the dough, as it were, the couple simply wanted a typical house to call home.

“Of course, dear. Either way, it’s very beautiful,” Joyce said. Then, to change the topic, she added, “So, when does William start the tour with the band?”

Anne looked up from the dish she was preparing, “Oh, yes. I was just wondering that myself.”

“Late January,” Buffy said. “Through April, they’re here in Europe. Then they hit North America in the summer.”

Anne grew concerned, though she had yet to have her suspicions confirmed, “Sounds like he’ll be gone for a long time.”

Buffy gave a little shrug and smiled, “It is. But we’ll do fine. We’ll be okay. I won’t be able to join him the whole time because of my dissertation, but…don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”

Christmas Morning

Buffy opened the oven door and slid in the stuffed turkey. Closing the door, she leaned over the stove and carefully spun the dial on the timer, ensuring that she set it correctly. She wanted to make sure she got this dinner perfect tonight, so she was following the recipe verbatim.

She let out an involuntarily squeal when she felt arms wrap around her waist.

“Will!” she exclaimed, spinning around in his arms, playfully hitting him on the chest.

“Wha?” he asked innocently before kissing her on the mouth. “Come on, love. Are you ready yet? Everyone’s biting at the bit to open their presents.”

“Oh, pressies,” she said excitedly. “How could I forget,” she asked with a grin and disengaged herself from his embrace. Grabbing his hand, she led him into the main room, where their parents waited, along with Dawn and Willow, who they had invited over since she had no family in the country and was unable to get a flight out.


Several minutes later, most of the presents under the tree had been distributed among their recipients, save for one. Dawn pulled it out from under the bottom of the tree and read the label. “Here, Will. The last one is yours.”

Spike reached out and took the package from his sister and quickly removed the wrapping paper, already having an idea of what it was; the curved shape of the box was familiar to him. Wrapping paper removed, he realized that his instincts were correct. Spike pulled opened the case to reveal a beautiful guitar. It was acoustic. A Gibson. He caressed the neck and body of the instrument almost lovingly as he lifted it from the case.

“Wow,” he whispered. “How did you know, pet?”

Buffy blushed, fingering the pendant of the necklace Spike had given her, “I heard you talking about how you wanted to learn. I, uh, actually had some help from Angel on what kind of guitar to get.”

“Really?” he asked, looking up at her.

She nodded, then she appeared to get nervous. “Um, that’s not the only thing,” she said slowly.

From the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Anne smile.

“Oh?” Spike asked, placing the guitar carefully back in its case.

Buffy reached behind her spot on the sofa and pulled out a much smaller wrapped present. She held it out to Spike, knowing all eyes were on them.

He took it and looked at her questioningly.

“Open it,” she said, wishing he would.

“Okay.” He pulled at the corner of the wrapping paper, working on the gift much too slow for Buffy’s nerves. She fought down the urge to grab the thing from him and rip the paper off herself.

An eyebrow rose on Spike’s face as he noticed the gift was a book. Turning it over, he studied the cover. “The Expectant Father: Facts, Tips and Advice for Dads-to-Be.”

Buffy could hear the exclamations of excitement from their families all around them, but she was only concerned with one and only one reaction. His.

He looked at her, “Does that mean?”

She nodded, a smile forming.

“Yeah?” he asked, a wide smile growing, pulling her closer to him.

“Yes. I’m pregnant.”




END CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX