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"I'll Have What She's Having."
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Eventually Anya had all four zombies trailing like hungover ducks after her down the halls of the Marriot. Xander walked ahead to open doors.

Just outside the conference room in which the press was assembled, she finally allowed them to reach the tray. The four cups vanished instantly, and Xander and Anya stood back to wait.

Buffy moaned in bliss as soon as the java hit her throat. Oh God. Heaven... With another moan, she tilted her head back and started guzzling estate-brewed goodness.

After about three seconds and twelve fluid ounces, Spike blinked. There was a blurry figure in front of him ...smiling? "Xander?"

"Welcome back, man."

Indeed, the fuzzy clouds of light and dark arranged themselves into his friend. Spike looked around in confusion as his vision cleared, taking in the high ceilings and patterned carpets. "Where 'm I?"

"Marriot. Remember? We tell the nice people with the microphones what a good idea it is to replace our drummer and frontman with girly girls?"

"Girls? Buffy? Dawn?" He squinted at the two, focusing much of his attention on the blonde, who was leaning beside the closed door with her head thrown back and an empty paper cup clenched in her hand. She was emitting a strange noise. "Wha's she doin'?"

"I think she's experiencing orgasm," Anya remarked.

Spike snapped his eyes all the way open. "Huh?"

"Oh, that woke him up," Dawn muttered into her steam.

The side door to the conference room opened, and a rush of chattering voices poured out, along with a blonde head.

"Hey, are you guys ready?" Darla gasped out. "Hi, Dawn, Buffy. Nervous?"

She looked around at the slowly awakening band, and shared a quick businesslike nod with Anya.

"Eh," Dawn shook her head unconvincingly. Darla squoze through the door and slammed it shut. The roar instantly faded. She pulled a walky talky from the waistband of her jeans and spoke into it.

"Luke, they're coming. Get the press out of the aisle, please." The walky talky beeped, and a tiny but growly voice said, "Understood. Give us but a moment."

Darla put the walky talky back on the clip and rolled her eyes. "He can't just say, 'hang on,' no..." She ran her hands through her hair, and looked around at the band. "So. You guys need anything before you face media hell?"

"I believe we're good, luv," said Spike, much more alert now that he'd finished his coffee.

"How is it?" This from Oz.

Darla hm/haw-ed a bit. "It's ...fine. They're a little more enthused than I like my reporters, but Hallie seems cheerful about the representation."

"Hallie?" Dawn asked.

"Hallie Franks, our publicist," Xander answered. "Have you met her yet? Brown curly hair? Kinda round face?"

"Maybe," Dawn conceded. They'd met far too many people over the last few day to even begin to process them all.

"She's the one that gets us in the magazines. Makes sure everyone knows we're on the road and what we're doing."

"Or at least what she thinks we should be doing," Spike muttered.

Buffy came out of her euphoric cloud. "What's that mean?"

"She..."

"Lies," Anya explained simply. "And ignores the truth when it is not convenient for her. This irritates Spike at times."

Oz leaned in to Dawn. "She's also his ex," he muttered.

"Ohh."

Darla's hip beeped.

"Darla. We are prepared. Bring forth the lambs."

"God, I swear that man..." She took a deep breath and grasped the door handle. "Okay. Showtime."

And she pulled the door open.


********

...Flashbulbs.

"Oz! Oz, is it true your fiancé's last relationship was with a woman?"

Hallie leaned quickly forward into the mic before Oz could yell. "Please keep questions in regards to the upcoming tour, thanks." Behind her back, Oz shook his head yes. The crowd instantly erupted back into waving notepads and shouted names. She pointed. "Ah, you, in the red."

The crowd quieted and readied their pencils.

"Anybody in the band: who will be your opening act this time around?"

A nest of microphones spiking into the sky. Dawn, Buffy, Oz, Spike, Xander, and Hallie were seated in folding chairs along one side of an elevated table. There were microphones set up in front of each chair. Spike appeared to have fallen back asleep.

Xander leaned forward. "Kakistos. Brand new; they've only had a couple singles. Lotta energy. We're really pumped."

Hallie spoke again. "Can I please remind all of you to check your information sheets before you ask your questions? A lot of this is on there and you're wasting time. Just FYI." She pointed to a man in a denim shirt and leaned into Xander's ear.

"Dawn and Buffy: Could one of you elaborate a little on your hiring?"

A sea of slightly frentic, alternately attentive and distracted faces.

The two media-virgins looked at each other, then at Hallie. The curly haired publicist was whispering to Xander, letting them handle the question. Oz looked at them out of the corner of his eye and nodded. Buffy tentatively leaned forward into the range of her microphone and spoke slowly.

"Uh, we were going through the local club circuit, looking for job openings," a flashbulb went off, and she paused, wondering what she possibly could have done just then to warrent a photo. "Uh, 'cause we've kinda been out of work for, um, a couple years or something like that," They're all looking at me. "not that we weren't."

Oh God, they're writing it down, They were writing down everything she was saying. And she wasn't even actually saying anything! "--Working, or anything. Just not playing." That's not a sentence, "Music, that is, which is what we really want to do, but waitressing, and the occ--" Dawn elbowed her in the ribs. "So we, um, tried out," she finished lamely.

Instantly, the waving hands and chatter that died down during each question returned with a vengeance. Rubbing her side and cursing herself, Buffy pointed at another reporter.

He momentarily gained separate existence from the collective mass. "Did either of you believe that XCOD would actually take two women into the band?"

Dawn leaned in, saving her sister further humiliation. "If they didn't, we were hoping they'd recommend us to someone else," she said quickly. That wasn't really a very quotable question. No point in wasting time answering it at length.

She was actually sort enjoying herself. This much spotlight action was kind of novel for a drummer. Too bad Buffy was a shade short of a panic attack. It kinda ruined the fun.

Nasal voice. "Dawn and Buffy: You're the daughters of Joyce Summers, correct?"

The sisters exchanged a look. Uh-oh. "...Yes?" How did they...?

"Do you have any word on whether she will be returning for a fourth season of Living Conditions?"

"Excuse me," Hallie broke in, "could we, once again, please restrict questions to the band's upcoming tour?" She gave the rows of reporters a look, then pointed to one in the front.

"Xander, you've recently begun a relationship with your road manager..."

Hallie covered Xander's microphone before he could answer and pointed to another reporter.

The woman stood, notepad in hand. "Spike, will Samantha Breckenridge be accompanying you on the road?"

Hallie looked irritated, but Spike sat up in his chair and waved her off. He slouched forward over his microphone and shot the room a sleepy, disinterested glance. God, I hate press conferences. Too bad he hadn't actually managed to fall asleep for this one. It had been a little difficult to doze off knowing that that beautiful, babbling blonde was a mere bassist away. Yesterday's rehearsal had shot her into a completely different light. Needless to say, Xander and Oz were beyond forgiven.

"Actually," he drawled in his special deep microphone voice, "Sam and I are no longer together..."

A new buzz started in the crowd. He pointed at a blonde.

"Does this recent break-up have anything to do with the new band members?"

Buffy felt a wash of new, completely unrelated panic when the pause stretched on. She could see Spike in her head, even if Oz was actually blocking the view; could imagine his chiselled, too-pale-for-southern California face perfectly. And he looked absolutely evil.

Spike smirked at the members of the associated press for a loong moment before saying, "Don't be ridiculous." His voice dripped with insincerity, and the wink didn't help much either.

The buzz just got louder. Spike sat back, looking very pleased with himself. Hallie didn't seem to be able to choose between being irritated with him or applauding his smooth manipulation. Ten to one, the tabloids would be speculating within the week. And exposure was exposure. Buffy and Dawn were blushing. That was even better. They were great at this.

The crowd seemed anxious to take advantage of Spike's current alertness. Another question from the back. "Spike, I know you've wanted to try your hand at being a frontman. Do you harbor any resentment towards the elder Ms. Summers for winning the position?"

Spike glanced over Oz at Buffy. She seemed to be both annoyed at being called 'elder' and worried about how he'd answer.

Buffy was holding her breath and staring at the table in front of her with the intense concentration of someone bracing themselves for impact. Over the course of the conference, everything Spike had said --whenever he'd been awake long enough to answer a question-- had been aimed at starting rumours; encouraging speculation. Gossip was one of the best - and oldest-- forms of publicity. Drama could grab the attention of people that would never have been attracted by the music itself. Hinting at tension within the band would certainly serve that end, but also make Buffy out to be the interloper. She cringed.

"No, no resentment at all," Spike said. Buffy looked up. He'd actually sounded honest when he said that.

"Was a bit worried at first 'bout hiring a lady lead, yeah. But over the past couple 'a days, both Buffy and Dawn have proved themselves to be fantastic musicians and consumate professionals. We're all of us thrilled to have 'em on board, and I think the fans that haven't given up on us will be thrilled, too when they hear the new XCOD in concert."

Buffy leaned forward in amazement to see Spike around Oz. He winked at her. She leaned back quickly. A flashbulb caught her blush.

"Spike, Devon and Parker were removed from the group on account of their substance abuse, but you yourself have been known to--"

And it went on, and on, and on...

****
****


Publicists can be really scary. Don't mess with them. And don't piss them off. No one can spread nasty lies about you like a publicist scorned.

Little warning: Updates aren't going to stay as regular as they have been, 'cause not only am I starting school, but I've finally worked my way out of the prewritten chunk I did before I started posting, and into the shiny unknown on the other side. So they may not be timely, but they will be coming, and what happens next is anyone's guess. (Did I mention outlines are against my creed? I'm a rebel without a plan. ...Or is that, '- an f'ing clue..?')

Anyway, hope you stick around.

~Star Mouse

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