NOTE: Thanks for the Kurt Cobain idea. I'm just so scared I'll screw this up and he – well, his ashes in the Wishkah – will be rolling over with shame and be all angry at me. He is my idol. He's the coolest guy I know. So Kurt fans, please do not take offense. With that said, here we go…

That Jennifer bird sure was an odd one, Spike thought as he made his way outside for a cigarette. She's not right in the head. He pulled his pack of smokes out of his pocket, lit one and took a few puffs as he collected his thoughts. He was just realizing that he hadn't seen Andrew in a few hours when a voice came out behind him.

"Hey," It whispered. "You with the hair. Come here." Man, that voice sounds familiar, He thought. Where have I heard it before? He turned around

"Are you talking to-," He cut off, realizing who he was talking to. He ripped the cancer stick out of his mouth in surprise. "Kurt Cobain? Is that who you are?"

"Yeah, that's me. How'd you know without me telling you?" He whispered again.

"Well, duh." Spike said like it was completely obvious. "You're a rock star. Everyone knows who you are."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Jesus. Why does everyone say that? I am not a rock star. I'm just a guy from Seattle."

"Yeah, who happened to be on MTV 24/7 until you – ," He paused. "Didn't you…you know…" He made his fingers in a gun shape and put it to his temple.

"Shoot myself? Nah. I'm…I'm a vampire now."

"Really? You are?"

"Uh huh. But don't tell anyone. Courtney'd kill me if she found out I'm still around."

"Why don't you go and say hi? She is your wedded wife, after all. And don't you have a kid, too?"

"Oh…well…uh…I…I didn't think about it, I guess."

"So what have you been up to nowadays?"

"Oh…y'know…vampire stuff. And tracking Dave, that lucky bastard. He's still at it."

"Foo Fighter Dave, eh? Yeah, he sure is making a living." There was a long pause. "You want a smoke?"

"Nah. I had to give it up."

"It's not like it will kill you."

"I said no. Don't pressure me."

"Fine. Have it your way."

"So…you married to anyone? Maybe a blond girl like mine?"

"I gotta girl, yeah. Buffy."

"That's cool."

"The Slayer," he put in. "Y'know, the girl who kills our kind. She'll probably come after you soon."

"But I could probably convince her that I faked the whole death thing to sell records. Then I could kill her."

"Why would you want to do that? You haven't even met her before."

"I'm sure I could kick her ass any day. I hear she was a cheerleader." He shivered.

"And?"

"Well, it's just that I've got this hatred for jocks and their girlfriends."

"Why is that?"

"Seriously…have you never heard Smells Like Teen Spirit or Come as You Are?"

"Well, yeah. Who hasn't?"

"It's about people like her and how they contradict themselves and how society sucks. I thought you of all people would get that."

"Sorry. I just think she's hot."

"So you'd never…I don't know…kill her?"

"Nope."

"Not even if I wrote a song for you?"

"Huh uh."

"Not even if I admitted I was a rock star?"

"Well…" He paused and scratched his chin. "No. I don't think so."

"It was worth a try."

"Wait a second…you're the First, aren't you?"

"Um…hey, I wrote All Apologies! Wasn't that a great song?" He laughed nervously while Spike eyed him suspiciously.

"I would kill you if you weren't so…thin. It'd be mean. Plus you're Kurt Cobain. So go away and don't come back, alright?"

"Well…f*** you too!" And he was gone.

He laughed a victory laugh to himself, then stopped suddenly, his face falling. "Damn!" Spike shouted into the night. "Why didn't I ask for his autograph?"