"Scooby road trip!" Xander announced two weeks later, lugging gear into the trailer.

"It's not like we haven't played out of town before," said Willow.

"Yeah, but this place is a big deal. I heard Sublime played there last month."

"Come on, folks," said Spike from the driver's seat, "I don't got all day."

"Why is he here again?" said Xander.

"Because he's the only one with a big enough truck to get all our shit there," said Buffy.

"It's not a truck," said Spike, "It's a trailer. 'Sides, a little vacation will be nice. Even Tare took the weekend off."

Tara snuggled up next to Willow. "Hey Buffy," she said, "Angel couldn't make it?"

"Nah," said Buffy, "But that's okay. I'll see him when I get back."

"One more word about Angel and I'm turning this thing right around," said Spike.

"I cannot believe we are trusting this man at the wheel," said Giles.

"You didn't have to come, Giles," said Buffy.

"The studio is being fumigated," said Giles, "And why shouldn't I join you on this venture? After all, you'd be next to nowhere without my help, and I deserve a vacation."

"A free vacation," said Buffy, "Where someone else drives and Xander has an extra bed in his motel room."

"Precisely," said Giles, "Besides—just think of me as your manager. I've been around in this business, you know."

"Yeah," Spike scoffed, "What, when the biggest hit was Mozart's Magic bloody Flute?"

A beat. "I… I think he's calling you old, Mr. Giles," said Tara.

"I got it," said Giles, "At least he didn't go for the bloody hurrian hymns."

"Ooh, we learned about that in school!" said Dawn, "Those are like… Really old songs. We did a whole day in history just about music. Hey, did you know Sappho was basically like the Madonna of ancient Greece?"

Tara raised a gay eyebrow at Willow, and Spike rolled his eyes.

"Why's the bit coming?" Spike said.

"You wanna babysit?" said Buffy.

"Well I gotta drive."

"Then you can do both, so she's coming."

"Hey guys? We should probably get going," said Xander, "Soundcheck's at five."

The drive was chaotic. The trailer was filled with Dawn's "Are we there yet?"s, Xander and Anya's snogging, and Buffy and Spike's arguing. Giles was trying (and failing) to read a book on English music, and Tara was comforting Willow who was trying desperately not to barf.

"Hey Buffy?" said Willow as they stepped into the venue for soundcheck, "This place is huge."

"It can definitely fit a… few more bodies than usual, yeah," said Buffy. She stepped forward, dragging some gear with her. But Willow just stood, wide-eyed. "Hey," said Buffy, "Don't worry. We rock."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Wow," said Xander as he and Giles followed behind the girls, "This is no dive."

"It is rather classy," said Giles.

"Well excuse me for cleaning the place once in a while," said a man who approached them. He was bursting with charisma, they could all tell, and they were each saturated with an urge to make a good first impression. "Lorne's the name. A pleasure."

He held out his hand for them to shake, and the three Scoobies all reached for it at once, fumbling awkwardly and Willow accidentally grabbing his pinky.

"I'm Buffy," said the singer as they recovered from the blunder, "Singer. Bass. Willow is on guitar and Xander's on drums."

"I'm Rupert Giles." Now he held out his own hand, "I'm their manager."

"Yeah right," said Anya with a roll of her eyes as she approached, "Since about three hours ago."

"And who might you be?" Lorne asked.

"I'm 'just the girlfriend', as you big-wig club owners would probably say. But I will have you know that I dabble in sound mixing and once released a series of very successful synth-punk albums under a pseudonym."

Xander blinked, "I didn't know that. Anyone else know that?"

"I had a life before I met you, Xander," said Anya.

Spike and Tara came in now, lugging some more gear.

"Wow, you all've got a whole cast of characters with you!" said Lorne, "Hope you two share that bleach now. Don't get greedy."

Spike and Tara both raised eyebrows before glancing at each others' heads which had both seen quite a bit of peroxide in their days.

"Maybe my hair's naturally this color," said Spike.

"I love you sweetie," said Tara, "But no it's not."

"That's Tara," said Anya, "She's also 'just the girlfriend'."

"Anya!" said Willow, "She's also a… Well, she's a very… good… bartender. Never messed up an order, I'll tell you. And she plays guitar!"

Lorne nodded at Spike, "And you? 'Just the boyfriend'?"

"As if," said Spike, "Like I'd be caught shagging any one of these posers."

"That's Spike," said Buffy, "He drove."

"Well if it isn't the Sunnydale Shenanigan Squad," came a familiar voice, and in walked Cordelia Chase and tall bespectacled brunette.

"Lo and behold, friends," said Buffy, sarcastic, "The tactful and infinitely classy Cordelia Chase."

Cordelia scowled, "You're welcome for the gig, by the way."

"Hi Cordelia," said Willow, offering a hug, "Thanks for getting us the gig."

"Don't thank me," said Cordy, "All I did was give Lorne the tape."

"That tape was music to my tinnitus-ridden eardrums, kiddos." He indicated the other woman, "I want you to meet my Freddy, engineer-extraordinaire. She'll be at the board tonight."

"Winifred Burkle," she said, pushing up her glasses, "Looking forward to working with you guys."

"Will has a lot of pedals," said Xander, "Like a lot a lot. Is that gonna be a problem? Because sometimes it's a problem because they are all funky."

"I, uh," said Willow, "I build them myself."

"You do?" said Fred, "Oh, that's so cool! What kinda resistors do you use? I built a phaser last year and I'm working on a new distortion—"

"—Oh you're into circuits too?" said Willow, excited, "I would love to see what you've done, and your schematics and—"

She caught Tara raising an eyebrow at her and cleared her throat.

"—And, I might not… have that much time on this particular trip because I'm gonna spend it… hanging out with my girlfriend."

Soundcheck happened, and it wasn't long before local punks were piling into the place.

"Buffy!" Willow cried, "There's people here. Like, a lot of people! This has gotta be, like, the entire LA DIY scene."

"It's a big city," said Buffy, "Don't sweat it, Will. I was moshing with this crowd since before I could drink. We'll be fine."

And they were. The show went well. Better than well, even: a bigger crowd showed up than they'd ever played for, and everyone seemed to be enjoying music. As it turned out, the LA scene had changed since Buffy had lived there, and now it was younger and less conservative than the one in their small town; these punks were queer and hip, whereas the ones in Sunnydale seemed to all be forty-something dudes pretending it was the seventies.

"Okay LA," said Buffy, while Willow re-tuned midway through their set, "So I'm actually from here. But then I moved to this town a couple hours north—anyone ever heard of Sunnydale?"

Silence. If the amps weren't buzzing, you would've heard crickets. There was one "Woo!" from Cordelia somewhere on the floor, and a softer one from Tara.

"Yeah," Buffy said, "Neither had I. Well, that's where we're from if you're ever out that way and wanna hit us up. We've got some zines and merch in the back, by the way. You ready Will?"

Willow only barely got her affirmative nod out before Xander counted down the next song.

"You all are just fabulous ," said Lorne as he approached them at the bar after their set. "I told Cordy I wanted some girl power out here, and man did she deliver! Blondie, you are just brilliant. You have… Oh, not spunk. Strength . And little drummer boy, what…—"

"Strength?" said Xander, hopeful.

" Heart, you have. Oh yeah, you're hitting those toms like you're trying not to hurt them. But that's a good thing! You've got rhythm, kid, that's for sure. And Red? Red, you've got something too, you know?"

"Going out on a limb and saying it's not heart or strength," said Willow, "Crossing my fingers for maybe an ounce of skill?"

"Spirit. And power!" said Lorne, "You've got power, Little Red. I can't get enough of it."

"This guy is much nicer than Snyder," said Xander.

"Listen," said Lorne, "Do you all have a record out? Would love to give a copy to the DJ."

"Oh," said Buffy, "We're more of a live band. We don't have the money, time, or skill to record anything. I mean, besides a few 8-track demos Anya did for us."

"Absolute nonsense," said Lorne. "My girl Fred is the absolute best tech in town. Here's my card—when do you leave? If it's tomorrow, don't. Come by the studio and we'll get a single on tape."

"Willow," Tara said later in their motel room, "You were so cool on stage today."

"Was I?" said Willow, "'Cause I mostly felt sweaty. Was I sweaty?"

"So sweaty," said Tara, and Willow looked taken aback. Tara climbed onto her lap, "And it was so hot! "

"Really?"

"Your hair was sticking to your face, your makeup was all runny under those hot stage lights… There were guys practically swooning in the front row."

Willow scoffed, "I bet they were swooning at Buffy."

"Well I was swooning at you. You're so beautiful, Willow."

They kissed, but Willow looked distracted.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Willow. But she wasn't that fine: she wasn't exactly hip with the plugs out here in LA, and the only place she knew to get coke was Amy. She didn't think it'd be a problem for the weekend; it's not like she was an addict. But she was craving it.

"You're nervous, right?" said Tara, "I g-get it. I mean, you guys have never recorded anything before."

"Yeah," said Willow, "I'm just nervous."

"Hey," came the voice on the other line. Buffy held a payphone up to her ear outside the motel.

"Hey Angel," Buffy said.

"I'm glad you called," said Angel, "I wanted to hear your voice."

"You can listen to one of our demos," Buffy said.

"Your Buffy-voice," said Angel, "Not your stage-voice."

"That is my Buffy-voice," said Buffy, "The rest of the time I'm palm-muted. Anyway, get this: the guy Lorne from the club—"

"Lorne? Oh, I've met him. Cool guy."

"Yeah. Well he's gonna record one of our songs tomorrow. Not even gonna make us pay. He wants to get us out there. Isn't that neat?"

"Why?" Angel asked.

"It's not neat?"

"It is," said Angel, "But why's he doing that? What's his MO?"

"He thinks we're good. He probably knows that once we get big, we'll make him money when he's releasing our records and we're selling out his club. Why are you all suspicious-guy?"

"It's nothing," said Angel, "Just been burned before."

"You're not—?"

"What?"

"Nothing," Buffy said.

"Buffy."

"You're not, like, jealous. Are you?"

Angel almost laughed, "Jealous? Of you?"

"Ouch," said Buffy.

"That's not what I meant," said Angel. "I had my time in the spotlight. This is really exciting, Buffy. I'm happy for you."

"Good," Buffy said, "I can't wait to see you when I get back and celebrate."

"Just…" Angel sighed, "Uh, just be careful. There's always someone waiting to stab you in the back. Steal your thunder."

The studio was grungy but not grimy; stickers and graffiti on the walls but spotless floors and clear glass separating the recording room from the mixer.

"So, uh," Buffy started as she put down her guitar, "We've never really recorded before. What do we do?"

"So just go behind the glass there," said Fred. "We'll do a sound check and then, well, we'll record! Easy peasy." She seemed to sense the band's nerves, "Don't be nervous. You guys sound great, just do the same thing you did on stage last night."

The band set up their instruments. Willow glanced up at Tara behind the glass, and then back down at her pedal board, shaky hands leaving sweat behind on the knobs.

"Everyone ready?" said Buffy, her bass tuned.

Willow strummed frantically at her guitar, which produced no sound, "It's, uh, not working…"

Buffy spun around and raised an eyebrow. She walked over to Willow's amp and held up the cable that wasn't plugged in.

"Oh," Willow stuttered, met with satisfying feedback as she took the cable and stuck it in the amp, "Silly me. Sorry…"

"Y'okay Will?" said Xander, "You're usually the one making us feel stupid."

"I'm fine! Just distracted. I'm ready now."

Fred checked all their levels and adjusted some microphones. She turned all kinds of knobs and Xander caught Anya hovering behind her, clearly trying to backseat-engineer.

"Okay," said Buffy. She glanced at Fred, "Um. Do we just, like, play now?"

Fred held a button and spoke into a microphone, "Whenever you're ready!"

Xander counted in with his sticks and Buffy sang:

"So yeah they told her that it's do or die /
She's getting colder and she never asked why /
They said it's written, it's set in stone /
Well I flunked the written, bitch, so just leave me alone!

"Prophecy Girl /
She's gotta save the world /
Yeah you can give it a whirl /
But she's the Prophecy Girl! /

"Yeah Prophecy Girl /
She's gonna change the world /
You can't stop the music /
She's the—

—Will!"

"—Sorry!" Willow cried, having accidentally strummed the wrong chord, "Sorry, Buffy. Sorry guys. Sorry Fred."

"That's okay," said Xander, "We'll just try again."

Willow looked down at her clammy, shaking fingers as they played the song again. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't focus on the performance at all. She didn't want to be here. She wanted…—

She flubbed a note again, and they stopped. "Sorry," she said, "I… I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Dammit, Will," said Buffy. Willow looked guilty and taken-aback.

It took them two more tries to get it right.

"Alright, guys," said Fred, "We got it. I'll mix this for you and Lorne will send you a copy in the mail. Sound good?"

"Sounds awesome," said Buffy.

"Lorne told me he'll be sending the recording out to some local DJs and record stores," said Giles. "He seems to really see potential in you three."

"That's us," said Buffy, "All potential-y all the time."

"We did it!" Xander pumped a fist, "Post-recording smoothies?"

"I'm tired," Willow said, "I'm gonna go to the motel."

Buffy frowned, "Will, are you good? It's okay, you had the jitters. I'm sorry snapped. We all did great."

"It's not that. I… I have a headache," said Willow.

"I'll take her home," said Tara

"Well in that case," said Buffy, "I'm gonna go write."

So they left, and Xander hung back with Anya, wondering why he seemed to be hanging with his pals less and less every time something good happened to the band.

Everyone was antsy on the ride home, except for Willow who knocked herself out with some Dramamine and was presently drooling on Tara's shoulder.

"Are we there yet?" Dawn whined.

"Dawnie, you know we aren't there yet," said Buffy.

"Well, someone's gotta say it," Dawn said.

Spike smacked Xander's hand away from the radio, "Wouldja quit changing the station?"

"Well I wanna see if someone plays our song!" said Xander.

"As good as you all sound," Giles said, "You only recorded yesterday. I guarantee you no one has heard it yet."

Xander pouted and sat back in his seat, "Fine."

It was quiet for a blessed few moments.

Dawn cleared her throat, "Are we there yet?