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