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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





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