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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks as ever to Carol and dawnofme for their betawork.-----------was holding out for double figure reviews but not gonna get it for last chapter so here is this one anyway! LOL
Chapter Fourteen

Getting Through the Day

Spike woke with a stiff neck from spending the night on the couch in Rich and Tara’s suite. He stretched and yawned. His cheek felt sore where Rich had hit him, and he cringed at the thought of the pair of them brawling like they had. He got up with a groan, and wandered over to the bathroom. He splashed some water on his face. His teeth felt in desperate need of brushing, but all of his toiletries were in his own suite. He walked out of Rich’s room, carefully leaving the door ajar, and crossed the hall to the door of his own. He hesitated as he slid the key-card in the lock.

“C’mon, Spike. Get a grip,” he muttered, rationalising that the bitch, Drusilla, had only ever appeared to him at night.

He went quickly into the bathroom and grabbed his toiletry bag and a towel. Then he rushed into the bedroom for a change of clothes. Tucking them under his arm, he hurried back to Rich’s room. Spike let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding as he closed the door behind him. His heart was pounding. He grimaced; this was worse than when he was being victimised by Angel back in high school. He sighed deeply and went to take a shower.

Spike was back on the couch, rueing the fact that he’d forgotten his hair gel, as Rich and Tara appeared from the bedroom.

“Morning,” he said.

“Mornin’,” replied Rich.

“Hi, Spike,” said Tara, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“What?” asked Spike.

“Nothing.” She shook her head and bit the inside of her lip, but her eyes were giving the game away.

“C’mon, pet, what’s so funny?”

She could hold her giggles in no more. “I’m sorry,” she snorted. “It’s just…I’d never have guessed that your hair was so…um…c- -”

“If you say ‘cute’, you’ll be the first that I’ll bite,” interrupted Spike, surprising himself that he could joke about his fate.

“I was going to say curly,” said Tara, still chuckling.

Spike scowled and ran his hand over his hair. “Forgot my gel, is all,” he grumbled.

“He’s a bit sensitive about ‘is ‘air,” said Rich, as he walked to the bathroom. “Not sure why though, when he insists on making it that radioactive colour.”

“Hey!” protested Spike, throwing a cushion at Rich’s disappearing form.

The bathroom door shut with a bang, cutting off Rich’s laughter. Tara sat down on the couch next to Spike and looked at him seriously.

“Are you okay? I sent off all that information last night. We should know more by tonight.”

Spike sobered a little. “Thanks, Tara. I’m okay I think. I mean, it might not get any worse than this. I can live without having a reflection.”

Tara didn’t like to tell him that it was unlikely to be as simple as that, so she just smiled. “I guess that you can smear gel on by touch then?” She ruffled his hair.

“Right, that’s it. I’m getting the sodding gel,” said Spike, standing up and going to the door.

“Shall I order your breakfast here?” asked Tara.

Spike paused and looked back at her. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Spike didn’t waste any time finding his gel and getting back to Rich’s room. He felt silly, like a kid that was scared of the dark, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of another encounter with Drusilla made his skin crawl.

0000000000

The rest of the day had passed without incident and also, to Spike’s dismay, without any news from Tara’s contacts. The upcoming performance began to occupy Spike’s mind more than the impending vampirism. For the first time, he was glad of his nerves. He sat at the side of the stage as the support band played their set, letting the buzz of the crowd lift his spirits. He’d chatted to Buffy, but had felt a bit awkward. He hated the fact that he’d had sex with Drusilla, whether he could help it or not. He was terrified that, even if everything else worked out, Buffy would find it too much to forgive.

At last, it was time to go on stage. The others watched in surprise as Spike marched on stage before any of them. He usually walked on last, needing to draw on support from Oz. Tonight, however, he was at his spot at the mike before Joey had managed to get to his drum kit. Spike stood, arms outstretched, almost feeding on the applause being offered to him. He grinned his trademark grin, head tilted on one side.

“Hello again, Birmingham!” he yelled. “I hope you’re ready, 'cause I fucking am!” He glanced to the side of the stage and laughed as he saw Rich shaking his head. “Oh, shit,” he added. “My manager’s gonna tell me off for swearing. Doesn’t bother you guys, does it?”

The crowd cheered even louder in response. Spike glanced at Oz and nodded. Oz counted them in and the concert began.

Towards the end of the set, Spike put on his radio mike headset, took his acoustic guitar from the roadie and went the very front of the stage. The crowd cheered, knowing which song was going to be played next.

“Don’t suppose any Babyeaters are here, with us being so far from home?” said Spike.

There were a few cheers. Spike glanced at the lighting engineer, “Hey, Andrew, can you get a spot out on the crowd?”

A couple of seconds later, a spotlight played across the audience.

“Okay, where are those Babyeaters?” called Spike. A group of about six people started jumping up and down frantically, waving their arms in the air. “No, shit! There are Babyeaters in the house. You do know that we’re playing the States next month, don’t you?” joked Spike. “Would have been a bit cheaper for you!”

They yelled back that they were going to the Sunnydale concert too. Oz walked to the front of the stage with an armful of t-shirts. He handed them to a big, burly security man, who was attending to the gap between the stage and the barrier holding back the crowd.

“You guys aren’t gonna start any trouble if we give them some shirts, are you? We’ll do the same for you if you get to the States,” said Oz.

Spike grinned at Oz, and then put his arm around his shoulder as they watched the security man pass the shirts out to the delighted Babyeaters. Spike let his eyes wander across the sea of faces. He froze, as one woman seemed almost apart from the crowd. She wasn’t smiling or shouting like the others; just standing there impassively, staring at him – Drusilla.

“Spike? Are you all right?” asked Oz, giving him a bit of a push.

“Huh?” He glanced at Oz then back to where he’d seen Drusilla. She was gone. “Imagined it, that’s all I did. She’s not here. Can’t hurt me if she is. Not in front of fifteen thousand people.” “Yeah, I’m fine.” He didn’t meet Oz’s eye for fear that he’d see it for the lie that it was.

“You sure?” pressed Oz.

“Yeah. Better get back to the set list. Can’t stand here doing nothing all night,” said Spike, more sharply than he intended.

Oz gave him a hard stare as he turned to walk away.

“Um…so this one is ‘Come Alive’,” said Spike, wishing it was a faster number and not what he thought of as his self-pity song.

Spike knew that he’d not given a great performance for the remainder of the concert. He hadn’t screwed it up, but hadn’t set the place on fire either. The crowd seemed happy enough, so he was glad of that.

Back at the hotel, he was thankful that Rich had put off the rest of the band from gathering in his suite again, pleading tiredness on Tara’s behalf. Spike didn’t fancy sleeping in his jeans again so he went into his room to get a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts to wear. He knew Buffy always packed a few pairs even though he preferred going commando. He’d convinced himself that he’d imagined seeing Drusilla but was still uneasy about going into his room. Spike had almost asked Rich to come in with him, but his pride kicked in and he went alone.

He regretted that almost as soon as he got through the door.

tbc


Chapter End Notes:
I'm hoping this might prompt plently of revs! Please take the time - I do appreciate it and it keeps me scribbling :)



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