Chapter Eleven
Acting Normal…
By mid morning, the band was settled in at the hotel in Birmingham; their home for the next two nights. Spike was quiet on the tour bus on the way there but otherwise he felt normal. The weird tiredness that he’d suffered the day before had gone. His fingers strayed to the bite marks on his neck. How the hell had he been bitten without knowing it? Tara had told him some facts about vampires, but none of them included the sods being invisible in this dimension.
“In this dimension,” he thought derisively. “This is like a cheesy horror flick. Well apart from the whole ‘it’s actually real’ thing.”
He shifted in his seat. He was scared. He was man enough to admit it. He was bloody scared to death.
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The rest of the day passed normally enough. Spike, for some reason, felt safer in this hotel room than he had in the one in Leeds but he wasn’t sure why. It totally freaked him out whenever he forgot himself and tried to look in a mirror as he was getting ready to go to the venue. It brought it all crashing back that something extremely disturbing was happening to him.
“God, you vain git,” he muttered, having glanced yet again at the mirror. He’d never realised just how much he’d looked at himself.
His nerves were frayed by the time that he got on the tour bus for the short drive to the venue. He was dismayed to find that Rich wasn’t on it, apparently busy doing some promotional stuff or other. He looked at his band mates wanting to tell them what was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. At best, they’d think he’d gone crazy; at worst, if they believed him, they might not be up to playing tonight. No, it was better that they didn’t know. The concert was the only thing that Spike could focus on right now. He always felt great on stage, lost in the moment, and God, could he do with taking his mind off things.
Tara got on the bus and to Spike’s delight, she sat next to him. She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand.
“How are you doing?” she asked kindly.
“’M okay, I guess,” replied Spike doubtfully. “Still having trouble taking it all in though. It feels like a dream and a sodding bad one at that.”
“I’m doing all that I can research-wise,” she assured him, patting the laptop that she’d carried on with her.
Spike stared at her. “You can Google vampires?”
Tara giggled. “Well, yes, I’m sure that you can, but I’ve e-mailed various people that I know to ask their advice. Rich checked and the venue has internet access, so I can work during the concert.”
She’d intended on staying at the hotel but Rich had asked her to go to be there for Spike, since he couldn’t make it until the concert began. Rich knew that Spike would need someone to lean on. He’d always tried to run or hide from his problems in the past.
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Oz, Pete and Joey glanced at each other before Oz walked to the front of the stage towards Spike, who’d just thrown a wireless headset off the stage and into the pit below. He used it for the couple of songs that he played guitar for.
“Hey man, what’s up?” asked Oz calmly.
“The thing didn’t bleeding work,” snarled Spike.
“Bleeding won’t now,” said Oz, mimicking Spike’s accent - which was a curious combination of English and Californian - and looking at the offending item laying in pieces on the floor.
Spike turned to him angrily and was about to make some smart comment but then he took a deep breath and tried to relax.
“Look, sorry mate, just…well…you know what I get like,” apologised Spike.
Right from the early days, Spike had had trouble with nerves at the sound check and then even more so just before the performance, and things hadn’t changed with their success. Pete and Joey always let Oz talk him down if he got too stressed out. Oz was so laid back he was practically horizontal.
“Yeah, but you don’t normally murder microphones,” said Oz dryly.
Spike glanced at him and started to chuckle. He looked down at the broken head set. “Better give it a decent burial, I suppose.”
Oz put a hand on Spike’s shoulder, “Are you sure that you’re okay? I mean, you were ill in Leeds and how you’re being today…it’s worse than you normally are.”
Spike realised that he had to get a grip for the sake of the band. He glanced back at Pete and Joey who were watching him anxiously.
“I’m okay, just a bit worried that I’ll not get through the gig properly after being ill. I’m just worried that I might let everyone down.”
Oz pulled him in for a hug. “For a bad ass rock star you can be a bit of a girl with the worrying. You’ll be great, man, you always are.”
Cheers, mate,” replied Spike. “Let’s get back to work.”
The pair walked from the front of the stage and a roadie handed Spike another headset.
“Lindsey says that if you break this one, he’ll break you.”
“Bloody thing was already broken,” muttered Spike, taking it from him.
“He’s says to remember to turn it on at the battery,” replied the roadie with a grin.
“What? Oh bollocks.” Spike groaned as he realised what he’d done.
“Definitely murder one then,” quipped Oz. “You can’t plead down.”
Spike punched him lightly on his arm.
“Okay, okay, I’ll try to get the nerves under control.”
The rest of the sound check went without a hitch and the band went backstage to their dressing rooms to chill out before the show started. Sometimes, they stayed at the venue between sound check and performance, other times they returned to the hotel. They’d opted to stay at the venue since the facilities were really good.
Spike sat in his dressing room and sighed. He didn’t want to be alone, but the guys all had their girlfriends with them, apart from Pete, and he’d just be asleep again by now. He got up and wandered restlessly around the room, grimacing and then covering the large mirror with a towel to prevent him from being reminded that he had no reflection. Not that he needed reminding, he couldn’t forget if he tried.
He glanced at his watch. Buffy would still be at the gallery but he didn’t care, he just needed to hear her voice.
“Hey, you,” she said when she answered the call.
“Hey, pet,” he said. He swallowed hard, surprised at how choked up he felt.
You do remember what I said about the times zones, yeah?” said Buffy, “I’m still working and so I might not be able to talk to you for long.”
“I know. I’m sorry, love, it’s just…”
“It’s just that you’re between the sound check and the start of the gig, and you’re feeling a bit edgy?” supplied Buffy, her smile evident in her voice.
“You know me too well, Summers.”
“That, and the fact that I worked out the itinerary,” chuckled Buffy.
“Can’t Rupert come home any earlier? I’m really missing you,” said Spike, knowing that he was whining but unable not to.
“It’s only a few more days, hun, then I’ll be there with you and we can see the sights of London.”
“I asked Rich and Tara if they wanted to stay at the house after the last concert,” replied Spike, for a second forgetting the whole ‘turning into a vampire’ nightmare.
“That’ll be great. So tell me about Tara. What does she do?”
Spike came back to reality with a crash. “She sells stuff on the internet,” he said, deciding to omit the fact that she was a witch for now.
They talked for a few more minutes until Buffy had a customer to attend to so they made their goodbyes and hung up. Spike sat there wondering what he could do now to pass the time - the usual pre-concert nerves were tying his stomach in knots. He fingered the sore patch on his neck, wishing he could see what it looked like.
“Oh, Christ, this just can’t be happening,” he moaned, putting his head in his hands.
There was a tap at the door.
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
It was Tara.
“Sure, pet,” replied Spike, not looking up as she walked in.
“As good as that, eh?” she commented when she saw him.
He glanced up briefly before once more looking down. “I’m never great before a show but today’s even tougher. I called Buffy but it just ended up making me feel worse. I’ve got to tell her. I promised years ago that I would never keep any more secrets from her, but how can I tell her this? I can’t even believe it myself.”
Tara sat next to him. “So don’t tell her just yet. At least wait until you can tell her in person.”
“So you reckon that I’ll still be me by then? We’ll have it all sorted?” he asked hopefully.
“I honestly don’t know, Spike, but I promise that I’m doing everything that I can to help you.”
Spike took her hand in his, needing to touch someone to ground him a little. “I know you are. I just hope that we can find something that works. I…I don’t want to d…”
“You won’t,” said Tara sharply. “It won’t come to that.”
Her positive tone reassured him and he smiled at her weakly. “I hope not, pet, I’m happy as I am.”
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Spike stood backstage waiting to go on stage with the rest of the band. His usual nausea at the thought of walking on had been replaced by impatience to get out there. He knew that on stage he was in control and that he’d lose himself in the performance, and be able to forget the weird shit that was happening to him. He jiggled from foot to foot, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Oz put a hand on his shoulder, mistaking Spike’s fidgeting for pre-show nerves. Spike glanced at him and nodded.
Finally, it was time to go on. The crowd went wild as the band went to their places and Spike’s spirits soared. He snagged the microphone from its stand in the centre and walked to the very edge of the stage.
He grinned at the sea of faces in front of him. God, this was a great way to make a living. “Evening, Birmingham!” he shouted, eliciting more screams from the crowd, “I hope you’re gonna stay this noisy all the way through.” He glanced back at Oz and nodded. In his ear piece he heard him count them in for the first song and the concert began.
Spike felt more buzzed up by the gig than he ever had before. He just couldn’t keep still. He was all over the stage and the crowd loved it. The only time that he was stationary was when he sang ‘Come Alive’, the first song of his own that he’d ever played live all those years ago at The Bronze. As he was passed his acoustic guitar and microphone headset from a roadie, he joked with the crowd.
“You’re going to have to put up with my efforts at playing this thing.” He held up his guitar - it was his favourite one, the first he’d ever owned. “I know that I’m no Oz or Pete but I’m getting better as any Babyeaters out there will testify. Back then I used to really, really suck; now I just suck.”
The audience laughed and cheered. This song was still one of the band’s most popular tracks when they played it live. Its lyrics told of Spike’s feelings after he’d lost his family and how his love for Buffy was saving him. He couldn’t help but feel that it was even more poignant that night. The title made him tremble because, according to what Tara had told him, if they didn’t fix this he’d be bloody dead.
tbc
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