Parallel Lives by Mabel Marsters

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 :: 11 :: 12 :: 13 :: 14 :: 15 :: 16 :: 17 :: 18 :: 19 :: 20 :: 21 :: 22 :: 23 :: 24 :: 25 :: 26 :: 27 :: 28 :: 29 :: 30 :: 31 :: 32 :: 33 :: 34 :: 35 :: 36 :: 37 :: 38 ::

Chapter 3: It’s Unreal Isn’t it?

Author's Notes: Thanks as ever to my super betas Carol and dawnofme.

“Hey, you haven’t fallen back to sleep, have you?”

Buffy’s voice startled Spike from his trip down memory lane.

“Huh? What? No, ‘course not.”

He got up from the bed and walked towards the en suite bathroom that Buffy had just come out of.

“See something you like, love?” he said with a smirk, as he saw her admiring his naked form.

“No, nothing at all,” joked Buffy, slapping his ass as he walked by. “See you downstairs, honey.”

“Yeah, get out of here before I take you back into that bed and ravish you.”

“Just hurry up and get dressed,” replied Buffy. “Don’t you have work to do today?”

“Okay, okay, no need to nag. I’ve got plenty of time yet. Just make sure that you have my breakfast on the table when I get down there, woman,” he said with a grin, ducking to avoid the hairbrush that she threw at him.

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Spike showered quickly and got dressed in a pair of tight fitting black jeans, a faded black Ghost of The Robot t-shirt that he’d had for years, and a red shirt unbuttoned over the top. His hair was now slicked back from his forehead.

“Bloody cute,” he grumbled at his reflection as he smoothed the gel on.

He strode down the curved staircase, taking two steps at a time, and made his way into the kitchen. The kitchen was bright and airy. The morning sun flooded in, illuminating Buffy in such a way that her hair looked like a golden halo. Spike’s breath caught at his throat. He never tired of looking at her. She was simply amazing.

“That was quick,” she said when she saw him. “Look! I’ve made cereal.”

They both laughed. Buffy’s lack of culinary skills was legendary and Spike’s weren’t much better. None of their friends were surprised that they both were so slim; in fact, if they relied on their own efforts, the couple would probably have starved. Thank God for catering companies and for Mrs. Benson, who came in to cook the evening meal when Buffy and Spike were at home.

Spike pulled up a stool and sat next to Buffy at the breakfast bar. He searched through the various cartons of cereals , opting for Cocoa Puffs. He sloshed on the milk and started munching happily away.

“Are you ever going to grow up?” asked Buffy, nodding to his bowl.

“Nothing wrong with this breakfast love - full of nourishment, got extra vitamins and all.”

“Big kid, that’s what you are, Spike.”

“You love it though.”

He had her there. As crazy as he was about her, he knew damn well that she felt the same way. All those corny ‘two hearts beat as one’, ‘they were destined to be together’ lines, really did apply to Buffy and Spike.

“Good thing I do. A break up could seriously harm your public image.”

“But just think of all the hot chicks out there who’d suddenly have some hope in their lives,” he said with a smirk, tilting his head on one side. “I reckon sales would triple.”

“You’re impossible!” cried Buffy, slapping his arm. Although he joked about it, she knew that Spike was deeply embarrassed whenever he was referred to as a heartthrob or such like. She was totally secure in his love for her.

Spike caught her hand and pulled her in for a kiss.

“It’s bloody unreal, isn’t it?” he said, shaking his head.

“When I look at all this…” replied Buffy, waving her hand in a sweeping gesture, “I still need to pinch myself.”

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To Rupert’s horror, Spike dropped out of college after two years, and the other band members, Daniel ‘Oz’ Osborne, Pete Rafferty and Joey Trader did the same. They knew that if they were going to have a chance of making it amongst the hundreds of other young bands, that they had to give it their all. Spike’s friend, Rich Bayliss, who he knew from London, had posted footage of Dingoes Ate My Baby on the Internet. The band had attracted a loyal following from their podcasts, and from the countless gigs that they played. They had practically lived in Oz’s zebra striped van for a year.

It was three years after Rich had first put them on Youtube that the band was picked up by a major record label. It was fitting that Rich was over from London when the scout approached them since he was their unofficial, make that unpaid, manager.

A year on from signing and all of their lives were changed forever. The only concession they’d had to make was their name. The label asked them to shorten it to simply ‘The Dingoes’ as they didn’t think it looked very good in the publicity to have ‘Ate My Baby’ in the name. The band members were happy to acquiesce as they had referred to themselves as The Dingoes for years.

Fast-forward another year and their second signed album ‘Infected’ went platinum and their appeal global. The quality of the songs they wrote and the charisma of their lead singer, Spike, meant the tour to promote it was a sell out.

Nowadays, they were established as one of the top bands on either side of the Atlantic. Their diehard fans from the early days of playing half full venues like the Bronze in Sunnydale were know as ‘The Babyeaters’.

Spike and Buffy’s move to the rather ostentatious house, with its private grounds, was prompted when a fanatical fan was discovered going through the trash can outside Spike’s apartment. It brought home to them just how successful The Dingoes were becoming, and on the advice of just about everyone, they reluctantly moved to live behind its impregnable fences. It was a small price to pay for basically living their dreams as they were.

The other band members had moved into similar properties. Rich had lived in California ever since they were signed up, and his management of the band meant that they were kept busy and they earned seriously large amounts of money.

Only Joyce, Buffy’s mom, remained in the same house as before the band achieved fame. This was mostly due to the fact that she’d been married to Rupert Giles, Spike’s guardian, for eight years. The two of them found that the surname ‘Giles’ gave them a little anonymity. They loved the house on Revello Drive, and despite Spike’s repeated attempts to buy them a property elsewhere, they’d stayed put. The two of them had expanded Joyce’s art gallery and it now had a great reputation and boasted artifacts from all over the world.

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“So what are you up to today?” asked Spike, as they cleared away the breakfast things.

“What? Apart from packing your clothes for the tour?” replied Buffy.

“Um…well…yeah.” Spike was a bit embarrassed and rightly so. Buffy had packed his stuff for touring ever since he’d gone with a suitcase of absolutely identical outfits. Black Levis, black t-shirts and black over shirts. Even the press had commented on the fact. Now, although black was still the predominant colour, Buffy made sure that the jeans were of several different brands, same with the t-shirts. Amazingly, she’d even found he’d wear the occasional coloured shirt over the top.

Buffy grinned at him. “Apart from that, I’m going to the office to go through the hotel and flight bookings and get through as much of the fan mail as I can before we leave, otherwise it’ll take me months to do it when we get back.”

Buffy had completed her education, graduating with a degree in art but she’d decided to work alongside Rich in The Dingoes management office. She wanted to stay as close to Spike as she could. She smiled at herself as she thought of her life, following a rock group around the world.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Oz wants us to run through a few new songs that we’re adding to the set to make sure we’ve got them right. Shouldn’t take more than half the day.”

She glanced at the clock. “More than half of the day will be over if we don’t get a move on.”

“You’d better watch out or else Rich will fire your ass if you’re late,” said Spike with a laugh.

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