Title: Lucky
Author: Ice Princess
Email: [email protected]
Summary:
Disclaimer: Not mine; I'm just borrowing a few characters and lyrics. Don't sue.
Distribution: My site (Every Now And Then), LoD, Fanfiction.Net, anyone else just ask.
Feedback: Very much appreciated (and very much welcomed as well...in fact, encouraged).
Rating: PG-15 (for language)
AN: This is a challenge from Megan: Buffy just moved to Sunnydale from LA where she is a teen pop star (think Britney Spears) her parents moved her away from LA because she was getting to pressured. Her parents still live in LA and Buffy basically is taking care of her self. She moved into a huge house (think billionaire) with her manager/father figure Giles. She decides to be normal by attending high school. There she meets the Scooby Gang. Angel and spike are brothers and they both have huge crush on her (they have her pictures all over their walls and binders). Buffy is also a genius although no one knows. She is in a lot of classes with Willow. Please don't assume that this is one of "those" fics, cos it won't be.
AN2: **denotes thoughts** //denotes lyrics (mostly Britney songs unless noted)// Title obviously comes from 'Lucky', by Britney.

Part 1

"You're onstage in two minutes," one of the annoying stage crew said to Buffy Summers, holding up two fingers as if he thought she didn't understand English. The guy was wearing a set of chunky headphones and had a few other gadgets strapped on and an awkwardly positioned mobile phone in the left-front pocket of his pants. Buffy would've burst out laughing had she not been being fussed over by the makeup crew currently doing her eyeliner. Again. They had been putting the stuff on enough times to line the eyes of the whole troupe of 30 or so dancers.

In front of her stood a dozen of the dancers all nervously warming up for the sell-out concert of Buffy's new tour. Fortunately, they had decided to keep the tour short so that Buffy could have some time off to relax and get away from the stress of superstardom. It was still two months until then but Giles and her parents had already decided where she was going to be going. All she had heard was that she would be moving to a small town not far from Los Angeles called Sunnydale and that her parents were excited to finally have a break from the stress of being in the limelight. Buffy felt the same way until she found out that she would be going to school there. Her manager was going to stay with her for the duration of her stay while her parents stayed in Los Angeles due to the demands of their own busy lives.

"You're on stage in one minute," the same guy said, this time holding up one finger. **God I wish I could give him a finger of my own and shove *his* up his ass.** Buffy checked her reflection in the mirror and wondered who designed her costume. It was pretty, not too bright, not too skimpy and very tasteful, unlike the last few she'd been forced to wear for her last few performances. Might have had something to do with her crazy ex-stylists demanding that she go for the revealing-and-sexy look and accidentally making her look like a streetwalker instead. **At least I looked like a thin streetwalker though...not that I was fat...hopefully.**

"Thirty seconds, people," the guy said again and everyone snapped to attention and took their places in the wings and listened to the MC doing his partly scripted, partly improvised speech and tried to not get butterflies or touch the curtains in the wings. They stressed every single time the importance of not touching the curtains during the rehearsal the day before and earlier that evening. Buffy was so sick of it that she'd made herself scarce during it and went off to get a quick break instead. Spending most of your life hearing it can make you kind of sick and tired of it being said...over and over again.

"Good luck everyone," Buffy tried to say over the din of the crowd screaming, cheering, applauding, going crazy—whatever you want to call it, it was part of that din. She doubted anyone could hear either. The dancers were to go onstage before her and had probably missed it. **Oh well, maybe next time.**

Buffy checked that her microphone was attached securely over her ear and that the wires wouldn't get tangled and the band started playing the intro music of the first song of the program. The program had been drilled into her mind so hard that she hardly had enough room for all the lyrics as well. **Okay, here goes.** Buffy stepped out of her hiding place in the wings as the smoke machine did its work in fogging up the stage. The crowd got louder and Buffy only just saw how packed it was.

//And I, I'm here to testify
That you're the only one I belong to
I don't know where to start
It turned into an art
Not to show the world that it was you//

She glanced up at the audience again while she waited for the music between the verse and the bridge and noticed that there seemed to be an equal number of guys and girls out there in the crowd that night. **Haha, Giles, I win the bet.**

//You made me realize
Not to compromise
The fact that you and I should meet
I know we're gonna get (Know we're gonna get, get)//

Buffy took her focus off the people in the audience and focused all her concentration on getting all her moves right. She'd been having particular trouble with this one move during rehearsal every single time and she'd been practicing extra hard to get it perfect. It didn't help that those annoying camera guys kept following her in every direction she went.

//Bombastic love
So fantastic
Where I'm completely yours
And you are mine
And it's gonna be
Exactly like in a movie
When we fall in love
For the first time//

The rest of the song went by in a blur when she executed the move perfectly, making her feel like she was on top of the world. The bright lights behind her turned on abruptly; as expected for the big finish. **Someone should freeze me until they invent stage lights that don't make you all sweaty. God, how the heck am I supposed to change costumes so quick if it's sticking to me? Whoa, those lights can probably give you a pretty decent tan...**

Buffy adjusted her mic and moved her hair away from her face. "Hi everyone. How are you all tonight? Good?" the roar of reply was thunderous and Buffy quickly moved on, "I hope so cos there is still *plenty* to go. And may I please say that sitting down is *not* an option."

The extended intro started to play for the next song, sending everyone into a frenzy. Buffy took the time that she'd been allowed to sign autographs for the fans standing closest to the stage, hurrying down the steps on stage-right to shake their hands, sign a few autographs and accept their gifts. **I love this. I wish I didn't have to stop...**

The concert went by for Buffy in a flurry of lights, annoying cameramen scurrying back and forth, quick costume changes, loud music, complicated dance moves and a whole lot of loud cheering.

Buffy locked the dressing room door behind her after being spotted by both of her parents, her publicist and her manager all at the same time. All she wanted was to be left alone for a while; that was all. Why did they have to go hounding on her like a bunch of...hounds? It wasn't as if she would escape out the window or hitch a ride on a garbage truck or anything, so why were they always so agitated by her being alone?

Buffy gulped down as much water as her body could handle in one go before changing into her normal clothes and collecting all her gifts and belongings into her sports bag and put all the bunches of flowers she'd received into a neat pile next to her pile of Cosmopolitans. She wondered how many 'From your secret admirer' notes she'd get this time. She'd taken an interest in collecting them whenever she found them in the bouquets and had amassed a whole drawer full of them. Some were actually quite interesting to read.

Buffy went into the adjoining bathroom to get all the gunk off her face. It made her skin feel horrible and oddly dirty. After she'd finished, she reluctantly opened the door for the five people she knew would be standing on the other side—her very supportive famous-gallery-owning mother, Joyce Summers; her workaholic, usually-absent father, Hank Summers; her manager and father figure, Rupert Giles; her evil (but extremely good) publicist, Lilah Morgan; and her personal bodyguard, Charles Gunn. Normally she didn't mind them so much, but Buffy just wasn't in the mood for their constant worrying and questioning. Except Gunn of course, he was kinda interesting to talk to when they ever got a chance to have a proper conversation.

Sure enough, there they all were, leaning against the walls on either side of the creamy white walls of the hallway though the lighting made it seem more of a peculiar green colour. Buffy ignored their presence and proceeded to get herself ready to leave. The routine signing of a few autographs and meeting a few fans on the way to her limo—the same old, same old that she hated to repeatedly do after a gruelling day of rehearsal and a performance only hours after. She idly wondered how many times she'd signed her name in black marker on anything from posters to people's shirts. She'd even had her fair share of autographing the people themselves, on their arms, stomachs, cheeks, etc. She tried keeping count, but she lost her place after about 12...

Buffy slipped out a small container of Vaseline and applied it thinly to her lips and applied a little bit of mascara from the make-up box that was also sitting on her dressing table. Au naturale—exactly the look she had been going for lately. Lilah was going crazy for it, even though she never really stuck by it herself. As did the magazines, all of which had been going crazy for it ever since she first appeared in one of those "stars without make-up" articles looking as flawless as she did WITH the gunk on her face. The article had actually been a rather funny read and had even boosted her record sales for a short period of time.

"So, do you have something to tell me or can I go?" Buffy asked. She picked up her sports bag and slung it over her shoulder; the sooner she left, the better. She didn't like the place and was relieved to know that she would only be performing here a second time before moving to the next city, which was going to be San Francisco. She would then be taking the tour to Seattle and then a few of the states bigger cities in the middle like Denver, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, Minneapolis, Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland and then up to Boston before going down the East coast until she ended up in Miami for the grand opening of something or other (of what, she wasn't quite sure).

"No, nothing. We just want to discuss the details of your move to Sunnydale as soon as we can. I suppose you're a bit tired from tonight's performance, so I guess we'll have to have this discussion some other time," Giles said with a stiff British lip. Buffy had grown to love the man like he were her own father—her real father seemed only to be there when there was something important to show for—but he always had to say everything in the longest possible ways.

"Okay. Well if no one else has anything to say, can we leave now?" Buffy asked impatiently.

"I came to discuss the Sunnydale plans as well," Lilah said in a slightly annoyed voice, "but since that's a no-go, I guess I'll be heading home."

"Good," Buffy nodded. She allowed Gunn to take her sports bag from her and scooped up the bouquets of assorted flowers from beside her Cosmos. She could already spot one 'From your secret admirer' note sticking out from the very middle bouquet of roses. That would have to go into her drawer as soon as she got home.

Her parents led the way to the back stage door, which she knew very well by now, where they met up with the smallish crew of bodyguards geared up for the stage-door-fan-frenzy.

"Let's go," the one who seemed to be in charge said gruffly. He and his men surrounded Buffy, her parents, Gunn, and Giles. The door, which a whole lot of loud screaming came from behind, was opened swiftly, causing the noise to get considerably louder.

"Finally..." Buffy muttered under her breath.

"Buffy, please don't stay too long. You need your rest," Giles said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...you say the same thing every time."

"Yes, and it seems to me if you never stick to it."

Buffy just glared back. Before Giles could say anything else, they were swept out the door and into the crowd of screaming fans. They stood behind the barricades, waving posters to be autographed or banners declaring 'I love you Buffy!' and some were just happy to have come within such a close proximity to their idol. Also amongst the screaming mob were several photographers snapping away for their magazines or newspapers or whatevers. Buffy wondered briefly whether the photographers ever thought to bring ear plugs...

Buffy went around and signed a few posters, talked to some of the fans and accepted gifts as she made her way to her limo with her entourage of bodyguards, parents and a Brit in tow.

When Buffy finally made it to the car, she had at least 6 more plush toys and over half a dozen more bouquets of flowers. On the way back to the Summers' residence, Buffy wondered what it would be like in Sunnydale and how they would act around her. And for the first time in a long while, Buffy wondered if she would ever find real love.

*****

Angel Ferguson lay on his stomach, in his bed, scrawling incoherently in his maths book instead of doing the homework. He had always been such a study-smart guy that he hardly ever sat down and said, "I can't concentrate on this homework," but lately he had suffered a slump in his grade with that exact problem. He supposed that it spawned from his sudden obsession with the popstar he had once thought to be a brainless bimbo who had her voice mechanically-altered afterwards. What changed his mind? Well he wasn't exactly sure...

Giving up on the maths homework, he picked up the magazine he had just bought, lying on the ground beside his bed still inside the slim paper bag that it came back from the newsagent's inside. It was glossy, and the picture of Buffy Summers' beautiful, smiling face stared back at him. He tossed the paper bag bearing the words 'Sunnydale Plaza Newsagent' on the front into his wastepaper basket and flipped open the colourful teen-oriented publication. He had bought it primarily for the poster—he had a very impressive collection of over 30 and still counting—but there was also a headline reading 'Exclusive! Buffy Summers becomes a small-town gal!'. Bad headline, hopefully interesting read. Page 16...

"Buffy Summers has announced that she will be moving to a smaller town to complete her studies in high school. The Buffster has said that she will be retiring from the music biz temporarily to graduate from high school and wishes to recover from the stress of her quick shot to superstardom. Her destination has not been released to the press for obvious reasons, but she has said that it would be close to home…" The rest of the article droned on and on about the press conference and about the tour and was about the blippety-blah that usually went on in these types of teen magazine articles.

Angel tore out the poster carefully and put it on his desk for putting up on the wall later...after he finished the maths homework. He paid no more mind to the article and began concentrating on his homework. It was summer break and he knew he was supposed to be out enjoying himself, but his father had put him into a maths tuition thing which he had to attend every Saturday. His grade had suffered so much that his father—Mr. "Football is everything"—had expressed concerns. He could've been out playing a game of basketball with friends or checking out the girls at the beach with Spike, but he was stuck inside...with maths homework.

How exciting his life was...