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"Behind the Music"
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Two men, trotting down a long, cinderblock hallway, one speaking calmly but quickly to the other.

"...All I'm saying is, this could be not totally a bad thing. I mean, recurring substance abuse is one of our most successful PR tools." He, though taller than his companion by a good foot, was having to jog to keep up.

Said looked straight ahead, walking fast. "And all I'm saying is, he picked a hell of a time to personally introduce our drummer to the wild world of celebrity overdose." He cocked his head in mock thought. "How long 'till our tour starts?"

The brunette glanced worriedly at the emoting man next to him. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, then used it to pull the door open for his shorter friend.

"...four days."

The shorter man nodded as he passed through the door and into the hall beyond. "And how long did the judge 'suggest' Devon and Parker should stay in detox?"

"Six weeks, pending cooperation," the brunette muttered. "Which they won't get."

"Devon's the most stubborn jackass in the country when it comes to his drugs," he agreed. "He could be holed up in Alina Lodge, discussing his feelings and shattered dreams with other 'reluctant drug addicts' for months." He put a hand out to stop his friend, turned into the wall, kicked it, then continued on as if nothing had happened. "We cannot cancel this tour, Xander! The equipment's already rented, the wages are already paid through the month, and if we don't get some of it back--"

Xander waved a hand, then paused to open another door. They continued stalking and half-jogging down the hall of the warehouse/offices.

"Oz, and I don't believe I'm saying this, shut up for a second. I get that you're mad--"

"--I'm ready to shove a bong down his throat--" the green-haired man muttered.

"--But I really don't see this 'last ditch utter desperation' plan of yours working. Replacing two fifths of the band? Including the lead vocalist? Ye gods, man," he joked nervously, "You're mad! If anything, we'll lose a lot of core... I still think we should get Spike to--"

"No. We need Spike focusing on lead guitar. And a singer that can gesticulate while he does it. Devon's as good as out for the year, and I'm not sure I want him back. And Parker--" he shook his head, "Shit, I'm through with Parker."

Xander nodded emphatically. "Vote of Aye, here. Can't keep time, and can't keep his pants on. I'm with you on scrapping the drummer. But a new lead's gonna be a whole new sound--"

"Worked for Genesis."

Xander stopped in front of one last door. "Do not get me started on Genesis."

Oz sighed. "Look, let's just check out some of the applicants. It can't do any harm. If we don't like any of them, we can always look somewhere else." He reached for the handle, then paused. "You're sure your girlfriend screened them all?"

"Hey," Xander mocked offence, "When it comes to getting rid of people she doesn't like, Anya's the best. Have we once had another Harmony Incident since we made her road manager?"

"No, and our merch totals are always right. Okay." He opened the door.

!!0,0 o.O^ ( Xander and Oz stood in the doorway, in shock at the sheer concentration of leather and black. The brunette swallowed.

"Holy. God."

They watched a pincushion-guy drum on the wall by the door. He dropped one of his sticks.

"It's a Spike~impersonation convention," Oz murmured.

The taller shook himself. "How come I don't get any impersonators?" Xander muttered back. "You know he's got three unauthorized fan clubs? It's gotta be the cheekbones." He searched the room for his girlfriend/road manager. "ANYA!"

"Xander! Thank you, thank you!" A tiny blonde woman with a clipboard shot him a relieved look from the back of the room, then addressed the assembled eighty-plus musicians. "Alright, you little punks! Get back in your designated areas! Singers; here! Drummers; here! Form a line to the table and make sure you have your numbered passes visible! Starting now with auditionee #001!"

The mass grudgingly formed semi~neat lines out of the chaos at Anya's insistent gesturing. The caterpillar forms wound around the room several times, starting at a fold out table with two chairs, so far empty. The two men in the door exchanged a look. Oz smiled apologetically.

"Heh?"

** ** **

"Oh, God! Idiot-person! It's a left-turning lane, you asshole!"
"Buffy, shut up! Oh, crap, the auditions started ten minutes ago!"

"Hang on, Dawn."

The blonde at the wheel executed a highly-illegal move that resulted in a chorus of honking from behind, and a screech from her sister. She deftly flipped the entire interstate the bird through the skylight while U-turning. She didn't seem phased by the fact that this entailed jumping the grassy median. "The traffic in this city bites!" She aligned herself in the lane, now headed the opposite direction.

"It wouldn't have been this bad if we'd left at ten, like we were supposed to!" The brunette in the passengers side furrowed her brows at the view out the window. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna take the cloverleaf around to the Arlington exit, then cut through the campus and approach the convention center from the back on Sam Heath Boulevard," Buffy replied matter-of-factly.

The brunette calmed slightly. "Oh. Good plan." She dared take her eyes off the road long enough to check her make-up in the mirror.

"Dammit. All the screaming smudged my lipstick. Do you have any of the dark cherry in here?"

"Yeah, it's right..." Buffy turned around in her seat and started rooting through the piles of junk in the back. Dawn glanced over at her and did a double take.

"What the hell are you doing?? Keep your eyes on the road!"
The blonde spun back around just in time to swerve and avoid a giant banana, and run right through one of the cables securing it to the ground. After safely passing the huge inflatable --and now dangerously swinging-- fruit, she stared back at it in her rearview mirror.

"Why the hell is that there?"

Dawn offered a muffled response, ass up in the air as she dug through the back seat's vital population of make-up bags and fast food wrappers. With a triumphant noise, she popped back into her seat and started applying the dark shade.

"Buff, you need a touch-up?"

Buffy angled her face so that Dawn could lipstick her, keeping her eyes trained on the road ahead.

"And that girl from the club was sure we didn't need recs?" the younger sister asked, twisting the stick closed. "What was her name again? Lavender?"

Buffy popped her lips. "Willow. She said we didn't. If we do, then I'll just call Cordy, but Willow should know what she's talking about."

"Yeah." Dawn sighed. "She's so lucky. How cool would it be to be engaged to a member of XCOD?"

Buffy grinned. "How cool would it be to be a member of XCOD?"

** ** **

"Okay, that was ...good. Not quite what we're looking for, but .lots of potential. Good luck."

"You sucked. Next time you audition for something, try not to."

Xander waited for auditionee #068 to be hustled off before slapping Oz heartily on the back.

"Nice form, dude. Way to be a discriminating musician. Just one suggestion: On the next nine hundred losers, try for something a little less Simon?"

"I give. I can't take this anymore. This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have announced an open audition. None of these people can sing. Well except that one guy, but I'm not ready to try an opera crossover just yet. The drummers--Good Merciful Heaven..."

Xander fisted his hands and banged them on the table a few times, wearing an idiotic expression. "Bam bam bam. Me make pretty noise, I know. But look on the bright side: none of them have attacked us. Although, if you keep at it with the deviljudge routine..."

"I think we need to start incorporating musical knowledge into Anya's repertoure. It's kind of a bad thing that she can't sort out the ones that suck from the ones that don't." He considered for a second. "Or these people from the rest of the world. Whatever."

"Oz, Oz, Oz. You know very well that my lovely girlfriend, though a skilled slave driver and economist, is completely tone deaf. Now, I'm starting to hate this even more than I did at the beginning, but I'm also experiencing this masochistic optimism, bubbling up in my belly, telling me there may be a winner in here somewhere. I say we at least go through all the auditions."

Oz sighed and sat back in the folding chair. "Fine. Bring on the losers."

** ** **

Welcome to the fic. Enjoy your stay.

~Star Mouse

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