Chapter Twenty
Cardiff
The band and their gear were soon on the road and on the way to Cardiff. Spike was glad for the pair of sunglasses that Rich had given him, as he could feel his eyes change from blue to yellow and back again, several
times on the journey. It was pretty disconcerting; not least because when they were yellow and his sense of smell was also heightened, he became acutely aware of the scent of the people around him. Each had their own unique scent; though, in the case of the bus driver, it was hidden by terrible body odour that Spike was barely aware of when his eyes were blue. Spike wondered if he’d be offended if he gave him some deodorant spray.
Spike leaned his head back against the head rest of his seat and closed his eyes. He could tell that Joey was walking down the bus towards him, even with them closed.
“Hey, Spike, what’s with the shades?” asked Joey, trying to snatch them from Spike’s face as he walked by on his way to use the bathroom at the very rear of the tour bus.
Spike bit his lip to suppress the growl he felt building as without opening his eyes, he grabbed Joey’s wrist and prevented him taking them.
“Got a migraine, mate. Eyes feel a bit sensitive to light, okay?” he snapped, opening his eyes and glancing at Joey. He released his hold on his wrist.
Joey looked at Spike for a moment. It wasn’t like him to be grumpy; well not until the sound check anyway. He hoped that his friend wasn’t going to be ill again. They’d all been worried about him in Leeds.
“You sure that you’ll be all right for tonight?” he asked Spike, dropping a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah, ‘course I will. Just need the painkillers to kick in. I’ll be fine by tonight.” Spike smiled up at Joey. Truth be told – he felt great.
“Cool,” said Joey and left Spike in peace.
Spike stared out of the window as they travelled to Cardiff. It was the first time that The Dingoes had played anywhere in Wales, and the concert had been sold out for months.
The hotel they were booked in to over looked Cardiff Bay, and as Spike looked out of the window, he wished that he could go for a walk around the area. He didn’t need his reflection to remind him that his hair hardly made it easy for him to go unnoticed, now that the band was well known.
“Shite,” he grumbled to himself as he flopped down on the king sized bed, taking off his sunglasses.
He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial one. He screwed his face up as Buffy told him off for not checking the California time, but soon they were chatting away. Both of them wishing that they were together. Buffy could hardly stop herself from telling him that she’d be arriving a couple of days earlier than he thought.
“God, I wish that you were here,” said Spike with feeling. “I’ve got that sodding TV interview the day after tomorrow. I can’t believe that Rich is making me do it on my own. He knows that I hate being on bloody camera.”
Buffy giggled. “You’ll be fine. Rich’ll be there to hold your hand, and it’ll be great publicity for the Dingoes.” Unfortunately her plane arrived too late for her to go to the studio with him, but she hoped that she’d make it to the house in time to see it live on TV. “Remember that first video that Rich did of you guys?”
Spike joined in with Buffy’s laughter. “Yeah, the git, bloody lied about not taping when he really was.”
Spike had totally frozen when faced with Rich armed with Buffy’s camcorder at a gig they were playing on New Year’s Eve at The Bronze. He had only just been released from hospital after being badly beaten by his high school nemesis, Angel O’Connor. He remembered, all too clearly, how bad he’d felt that day when they did the sound check. Being hit around the head and back with a baseball bat was something not easily forgotten.
Even nine years on, the footage of that concert was still being aired on Youtube. The sight of the seventeen year old Spike with his battered face, singing songs that they still played to this day, kept it popular with the Babyeaters who’d been in the crowd. Buffy often sneaked a peep at the footage because Rich had caught Spike glancing at her and winking, and it still made her heart beat quicken when she saw it.
“That was a great night, wasn’t it?” said Buffy, lost in the memories.
“It sure was, pet. That was the start of it all really. Without that footage online, I don’t think we’d have made it.”
He heard Buffy yawn loudly.
“Shit, sorry, love. I forgot how late it is for you.”
“Early,” chuckled Buffy.
“I’ll let you go then. I love you, you know that, right?”
“I know it, Spike, and I love you, too. I’ll be seeing you soon, too.”
“Can’t wait. Night, Buffy.”
“Goodnight, or whatever it is,” said Buffy with another yawn as she hung up.
Spike tossed the phone down on the bed next to him. He surprised himself by falling asleep.
He’d been asleep for a couple of hours when he was roused by knocking on the door. He got up from the bed and walked over to open it.
“Lunch is served,” Rich said with a grin, waving a bucket of chicken wings in front of Spike.
Spike snatched it from his hands. “Well come on in then. What are you waiting for?” He went over and put the carton on the table in front of the window. “Where’s Tara?”
Rich followed him and they both sat at the table. “She’s catching up on a bit of sleep. She spent a lot of time on the laptop last night, and I woke her up pretty early,” he replied with a smirk.
Spike chose to ignore the innuendo- he already had been able to smell what they’d been up to that morning. “Mm…these are good.”
“I didn’t even ‘ave to go to get ‘em. Just asked the concierge. The band really has made it if we can get a hotel to go out to find chicken wings for it’s lead singer,” Rich teased.
“Just wish I could go for a sodding walk. Feel like a prisoner; I’ve been stuck in hotel rooms for so long.” Spike’s eyes flashed amber as he spoke.
Rich could hardly believe his ears. It was like Spike had forgotten what was happening to him. It seemed like he was well up that river in Egypt right now.
“Well, if you didn’t have hair that bleedin’ glows in the dark, you might find it easier to get about.”
“Can you get me a hat? I really need to get some fresh air.”
“Sure, I’ll sort it out for you.”
Spike grinned at his friend. “You’re the best manager ever.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Just don’t get bloody mobbed anywhere. And keep your cell on you, okay?”
“Yes, boss,” said Spike, his eyes now back to a twinkling blue. “I promise.”
The pair ate the rest of the chicken talking amiably about anything except vampires.
Soon after Rich had left, he was back knocking at Spike’s door again. He tossed him a black knitted woollen hat.
“There yer go. It’s the best that I can do to cover up yer bleeding ‘air. Whatever yer do – don’t get caught on camera with this one. It’d seriously damage yer public image.”
He laughed as Spike’s eyes flared yellow for a second.
“You’re a sod; you know that, right?” said Spike as he pulled the hat on and then put the sunglasses on too. “What do I look like?”
“Like a total prick. There’s no way that anyone will know it’s you.”
Spike thumped his friend affectionately as he pulled on his jacket. Not his beloved leather duster - that was as much his trade mark as his hair - but a khaki coloured combat style jacket.
“I’ll see you later then, mate,” he said as he walked out of the door.
“Make sure you’re back here in two hours, okay? We’ll be going to do the sound check then.”
Spike glanced at his watch. It was still on California time but noted what time according to it that he needed to be back.
“Yeah; no worries. I’ll be here.”
Rich stood watching Spike until he disappeared in to the lift. He shook his head as he thought that he really should have gone with him. God, he hoped he’d be okay. He sighed and went back to see if Tara had woken up.
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Spike wandered around the Bay area near the hotel. He looked around a couple of galleries selling local art and such. He resisted on taking a trip around the Bay on a boat, but watched them come and go as he sat eating an ice-cream cone. He sat there for about an hour, chuckling softly to himself from time to time as people walked by him, barely giving him a second glance. In fact, the only unwanted attention he had was when an old woman pressed a £2 coin into his hand, telling him that he was too thin and to go and get a sandwich. He tried to give it back to her but she’s insisted. Spike had managed not to laugh out loud until she was out of earshot. The woman had thought he was a beggar or homeless or something. Maybe Buffy was right and it was time that he threw out this jacket? He decided that he better get back to the hotel rather than risk giving Rich a heart attack by being late. He felt more relaxed than he had since being bitten by Drusilla.
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Oz, Joey and Pete stared at Spike as he stood at the front of the stage. They’d only just started the check, but something was very wrong.
“Um…Spike? You okay, man?” asked Oz tentatively, as always the job of dealing with Spike during the pre show routine, falling to him.
Spike spun around and grinned at Oz. “’Course I’m okay,” he exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He tilted his head and peered at Joey and Pete who were watching him anxiously.
“Er…well…it’s the sound check and…um…”
“Um...what? God, spit it out, Oz! What’s up?”
Oz glanced at the others who nodded at him, urging him to speak. Oz took a deep breath. “Well, you’re not freaking out.”
Spike stared at him, and then burst in to fits of laughter. “You guys are upset with me ‘cause I’m not freaking out?” he gasped. “You’re always telling me that I’ve got to chill out; that there’s nothing to worry about. Then when I do, the three of you look at me like I’m a loon.” He doubled over with his hands on his knees.
“It must be the pills that he took for his migraine,” said Joey quietly to Pete.
Spike looked up at them. “It’s not any bloody drugs okay, and before you ask, I haven’t been drinking. I’m just feeling good – is that so bad?”
Joey and Pete looked startled that he’d heard what Joey said but then shrugged. This cheerful version of Spike was much nicer to be around than the normal panicky version.
“I’m okay, Oz, honest. I’ve just had a good day and Buffy’ll be here soon. The gigs have been really well received. I’ve got nothing to worry about; tonight will be as good as the others, if not better. So no point in stressing at all is there?”
“I’ve been telling you that for years and it decides to sink in finally?” Oz grinned at Spike.
“Something like that,” replied Spike winking at him.
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The concert was a great success. Spike had been on great form. Much to the amusement of his band mates, he’d kept the mirrored shades on throughout the concert. If they were surprised at the fact Rich hadn’t tried to persuade him to take them off, they didn’t show it. The fans hadn’t seemed to care. Mind you most of the girls were too busy swooning when Spike pulled off his sweat soaked t-shirt about two-thirds of the way through the set. His well defined six-pack more than making up for them not being able to see his baby-blues.
Spike was feeling as high as a kite as he walked off stage for the last time. The thought of going back to his room to try to sleep didn’t appeal.
“Hey, Pete. What are you up to tonight?” he asked as he walked back with him towards the dressing rooms.
“One of the local security guys told me about this great little club in a back street, not far from the hotel. I thought I’d go take a look at. Why?”
Spike put his arm around him. “I thought I might come with.”
“What?” Pete stopped short. “You want to come out clubbing with me?”
“Yeah. Would you rather that I didn’t?”
“No, you’re more than welcome. Just a bit surprised, that’s all. I mean, you haven’t been out with me after a gig since…well…ever!”
“’Bout time I gave it a go then, eh? Just really not feeling like I want to go to sleep.”
“Cool. We can get the bus to drop us off at the end of the street that it’s on. It’s on the way back to the hotel.”
“Great. It’ll be fun.”
They split when they reached their respective rooms and freshened up quickly before climbing on to the bus. Spike had put a clean t-shirt on, and for a change, instead of slicking his hair back, he used the gel to spike it up. He wanted to look a bit different, because no way was he going to a club with the horrid woolly hat on.
Pete had sat up front near the driver so that he could tell him where to drop them off.
“That’s the street- there,” said Pete ,and the driver pulled over and opened the door. “See you tomorrow,” added Pete as he got off the bus.
Spike got up and made his way down the bus. He dropped his duster in Rich’s lap. Laughing at Rich's face as he realised that he was going with Pete.
“Look after it for me okay, mate,” said Spike, giving Rich’s cheek a friendly slap. “Don’t look so surprised. Just fancy a night out.”
Rich was about to protest but stopped when he felt Tara’s hand on his arm.
“Let him go,” she whispered. “He’ll be all right.”
Rich glanced at her and then at Spike’s back as he exited the bus. “Are you sure?”
“I think all his senses are enhanced when his eyes change. The concert is bound to make him feel wired.”
Rich wasn’t so sure, but short of leaping off the bus and hauling him back on, there was nothing that he could do. Pete, for all of his partying ways, would make sure that Spike was okay. He got a glimpse of the two men walking along the street before the bus turned a corner and they were out of sight.
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To Spike’s delight but also his amazement, Pete made no attempt to get in the club for free by telling them who he was. When he commented on this to Pete, he was rewarded with a grin.
“Is that what you all think I get up to when I go out?”
“Well…yeah,” admitted Spike.
“I do sometimes, but most of the time I just want to be out like a regular guy. Then I can chat up a few girls without them knowing I’m in The Dingoes and I get to meet girls who like me and not the whole fame thing.” He laughed at the astonishment he saw on Spike’s face, despite him still wearing the shades. “Mind you, when it gets to the end of the night, it does mean that they’re less likely to say no after I confess who I am!”
“You’re a shit, Pete,” admonished Spike, but he was smiling.
He’d never really thought of how being famous affected the way you got to interact with women. Not for the first time, he counted his blessings at finding Buffy before the whole fame thing went a bit crazy.
Spike settled himself on a bar stool and watched as Pete got chatting to some girls. He introduced Spike as James, which was the name that he used before it was legally changed to Spike.
One of the girls looked carefully at Spike. “Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look a bit like that lead singer of The Dingoes…what’s his name? Spike. That’s it – you look a bit like Spike.
Spike and Pete exchanged a glance before he replied, “What? That wanker? I’d rather that you thought I looked like Billy Idol.”
“Billy who?” said the girl, obviously not a music fan.
“Never mind. Do you want a drink?”
He bought them all a drink and declined the offer of joining them on the dance floor. He sat sipping his orange juice, happy to watch Pete in action.
A couple of hours later and Pete disentangled himself from the girl who’d been wrapped around him for the past hour and walked over to Spike.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah, but don’t think that ‘cause I’m here that you can’t bring her back to the hotel if you want to.”
“What? No, I had fun with her, but I’m not sure that I want to wake up next to her.” He smirked shamelessly. “I’ll save myself for a nice little Londoner.”
Spike thumped him. “I was right. You are a total shit. Come on, let’s get back.”
They walked the half mile or so back to the hotel and were soon asleep in their respective rooms.
Tbc
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Banner by dawnofmeAuthor's Chapter Notes:
Thanks as ever to Carol and dawnofme for their beta work :)
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