#2: So she wants an 'angel'?
Summary: So Buffy wants to impress Angel with her costume? I'll give her an 'angel' all right...
Disclaimer: At the end, at least for the first chapter
X. O. G.
Xander watched, disgusted, as his almost-tender-moment of reconciliation with Buffy over the damage to his macho image earlier in the day vanished, washed
away in the flood as she gushed over an 18th century style gown. "Ooh, Angel, look at me, I'm so fluffy! Just like the girls you used to drain!"
he muttered derisively. He just couldn't understand what she saw in a walking corpse... Worst of all, he knew that going as some lame-o generic soldier
like he'd planned would never have a chance at catching her eye himself.
Unfortunately, he didn't have the kind of money it would take to rent something more impressive, and aside from the old fatigues he'd dug out of the
attic he had nothing but his normal day to day clothes and the black suit he'd worn to his grandmother's funeral.
Frustrated, he cast one last look around the cluttered shop before heading to the bin with the toy guns, then winced at the sound of something hitting the
floor. Automatically spinning to check out the noise, he saw a sheepish-looking Jonothan Levinson hastily picking up a plain white mask - the kind used for
operas and masquerades, not a "Scream" mask - and set it back on the shelf before heading to a different part of the store under the annoyed glare of
the shopkeeper.
Curious, and feeling the first tickle of an alternate costume idea in the back of his mind, he wandered over and picked up the mask himself - it was plaster
or maybe even real porcelain, and the tag was way more than he could manage, but thanks to the fall it now had a chip out of the left cheek and a huge crack
from the chin to the right corner of the mouth, and up the left side of the nose to that eye hole... but if anything, that would make it even better, if he
could get the owner to sell it cheaply enough due to the damage.
Speaking of whom, he was startled out of his brainstorming by a British accented voice asking, "Can I help you? It looks like that butterfingers
damaged that, but it's the last of that style, I'm afraid."
Xander jumped and spun around with a half-strangeld squeak, the mask slipping again to land on the hard, linoleum tile floor, the second impact finishing
the job of breaking it. "AH! Oh, jeeze, don't DO that!" he complained, before apologising, "Now it's really broken... sorry, but you
startled me. Uh... any chance I can get you to give me a break on paying for that, since it was already cracked?"
"If anyone should pay for it, it would be that other fellow, but I seem to have lost track of him. Don't worry my boy, though I do hope you can
find something else suitable now that it's gone," the englishman replied. He gave a slightly dodgy grin nd introduced himself. "I'm Ethan,
Ethan Rayne, and I could hardly get all shirty with my customers over a simple accident when I just opened the shop, now could I? Wouldn't be good
publicity."
Kneeling to collect the pieces, Xander inspected the broken edge. It was pretty clean, and not too sharp. With any luck, he'd be able to even it out
some more with the dremel in the garage, and both the loops for the elastic headband that held it on were still intact. "Actually, I think I can still
work with this," he said, contemplatively, "I just need some amber contacts, and maybe a ring..." The costume he was thinking of wouldn't
normally be his kind of thing, but the video of the production they'd been shown in English class had actually been kind of cool, espescially considering
all the pyrotechnics and things had been done right there on the stage as it was recorded rather than being added later like a movie.
"Ah? What a pleasant change to see a young person being a bit creative with their costume, rather than simply picking something off a rack. Let's
see then, I have a number of theatrical contact lenses and costume jewelry in the counter display; most of the rings with anything like a realistically sized
rhinestone are fifty cents each, while contacts are a dollar fifty. I shan't charge you for the mask, since it wasn't your fault it was
broken."
"Whoa, thanks! That's awesome, I'll, uh, make sure and tell everyone to come here, ok?" It was all Xander could do to contain the urge to
Snoopy-dance in celebration, he was going to be way cooler than some generic soldier, and hadn't spent any more money than he'd planned, meaning
he'd still have enough for a couple packs of Twinkies on the way home. Priorities were important, after all.
Ethan finished the sale and headed over to where Buffy and Willow were still admiring the period dress, which, to be fair, would probably look very good on
the Buffster... "So, she wants to impress Angel, huh?" he mused with a grin. "I'll give her an 'angel,' all right..."
(00(0)00)
The dremel had worked just like he'd hoped, a grinder tip easily smoothing away the rough broken edges of his half-a-mask and letting him shape what was
left so it looked like it had been made that way from the start. A little careful combing let his hair fall naturally and invisibly over the headband holding
it in place, the stem of his fake rose tucked neatly throguh the breast pocket buttonhole on the suit, and the black sheet he'd turned into a cloak was
light enough to billow dramatically without any special effort. He adjusted the hang of it one final time and brushed away a few flecks of dust from his suit,
then rang the doorbell at 1630 Revello Drive, and cleared his throat for the little introduction he'd spent msot of the afternoon practising, hopefully to
the point that it wouldn't cause active nausea with his singing voice.
"My goodness," Buffy's mother greeted him as she opened the door. "You certainly cleaned up nice, Xander. I don't quite recognise the
costume, though?" The amber eyes gave her a momentary pause - she had a sudden flashback to the gang attack during Parent/Teacher night, for some reason,
but she shook it off.
Here goes nothing, he thought, then sang, "I am the Angel of Music; Come to the Angel of Music..."
A wide grin split the woman's face as she caught on and she waved him in before turning and herself singing up the stairs in a warm, clear soprano,
"He's here! The Phantom of the the Opera He is with us! It's the ghost! The Phantom of the Opera!"
Turning back to the boy and speaking normally again she complimented, "That's certainly an original costume, I don't think I've ever seen
anyone dress up as the Phantom before. It seems a little darker than your usual style, but I suppose that's what Halloween is all about after
all."
"Thanks Mrs. S! You're right about Halloween, and while the Phantom was kind of the bad guy, he still did the noble thing in the end, and he kicked
lots of a... ah, butt, on the way."
"Xander, I've told you aleady to call me Joyce, 'Mrs. Summers' makes me feel far too old. Would you like some cookies while you wait for
the girls? I just finished a fresh batch."
Xander could feel his mouth start watering at the mere suggestion, and quickly adapted another snatch of music from the show. "You know how to make my
song take flight... The music of the cookies of the night!"
(00(0)00)
Xander came back to himself just in time to witness the incredibly gratifying sight of Spike being hit by a fireball and bursting into a cloud of flame and
dust, and that alone was worth the whole share-his-head deal, since with the spell apparently ended it would have winked out along with the Phantom himself
otherwise. The rest of the vampires were quickly mopped up by Buffy, now free of the wig that combined with the gown had made her look so heartbreakingly like
Christine as the Phantom had last seen her, mere minutes before the whole possession thing went down.
It was kind of scary how much they had in common, actually, as if he'd been a faint echo of the character from the beginning - Xander had always been
interested in architecture and when something broke around the house he'd tinker around to try to fix it, since otherwise who knew when his drunken excuses
for parents would even notice let alone bother to replace it. The Phantom, before being relegated to a circus and escaping to the parisian Opera Populaire, had
built a labrynth of mirrors for the Shah of Persia, a construct that was in fact a tremendously powerful magical amplifier though it carried grave risks for
the user. Thankfully Xander wasn't horribly deformed (and the rush of elation when the Phantom had pulled off his mask and looked into a whole face, even
if it was someone else's, in the reflection from a window had been intense), but he was still pretty much a social outsider.
Genius, okay, maybe not so much, that was generally Willow's department, and up until now he'd have sworn that him and the mojo were un-mixy things
like gasoline and matches, but the real kicker was that they'd both always had the music in their heads. The soundtrack of Xander's life tended more to
Country and Blues than the grand orchestras of the Phantom. Of course, the memories of how much more it was possible for life to suck than his own had kind of
dulled the appeal of the Music of Pain... he could see a lot of more upbeat, energetic stuff in his future. That had to be counted as a plus, too, really
seeing and appreciating the friends he had.
It had been the strength of that musical connection that had formed the bridge between them for O. G.'s mojo to anchor himself with. Opera Ghost, the
only name the Phantom had chosen for himself, and the only one he'd not thrown away as the ones who used the others had thrown him away... perhaps if
Christine had chosen him for real, he'd have picked another, or she would, but that was the final link between them - Christine had loved Raoul so much she
would have stayed with the Phantom to spare his life, and in the end it had been the difference in the look in her eyes when she looked at O. G. and claimed
she'd learn to love him that had made him set them both free.
Xander hated to admit it, but Buffy had the same look for Angel as Christine had for Raoul. God, could he never catch a break? At least he'd figured it
out before going on a jealous killing spree, but then he'd had Jessie, Willow, and let's not forget Saturday morning cartoons to learn his morals from
instead of a lifetime of being reviled and hunted and melodramatic opera productions as rife with plots and backstabbing both literal and figurative as a whole
season of daytime soaps condensed into each two or three hour show.
"Xander? Are you okay?" Buffy's worried question broke him out of his thoughts, and the urge to lean foreward and kiss her was all but
overwhelming as she reached up and lifted away his half-mask.
The thought of her smile for Angel stayed him, though, and he swallowed and pasted on a grin. "Ah, yeah Buff, just, you know, lots of thinky thoughts
left behind by the Phantom. He's one intense guy!"
"Intense... yeah." Like that look in his eyes then. Buffy had known her Xander-shaped friend had the occasional boy-girl thoughts about her, but
he was strictly Property of Willow and even if not, she had Angel - but that had been something else. Even the gold contacts that could have been kind of
wigsome (because hello, Hyena? vampires? What had Xander been thinking, getting those, anyway?) had been so alive and soulful that they just didn't...
Wait, what? "Xander, aren't those supposed to be contacts? How come they're adjusting like a real eye?"
Worried now, Xander snapped a hand up to feel the skin of his face where the mask had hidden it, but it was as whole and scar-free as ever. He blinked a
couple of times, but the contacts definitely felt gone. "Okay, that is of the wierd, but I think I know what's up... let's get the kids back to
the pick up at the school, and then we can talk to Giles about it, yeah?"
Buffy hesitated - anything wierd was usually bad on the Hellmouth, and when it wasn't that just meant it was probably really, truly bad instead. But, he
didn't feel demony or anything so it could probably wait a couple hours... "Okay Xander, just try not to zone out like that, it can lead to
monster-snackage."
(00(0)00)
"Oh, my poor Spikey, Kitten burned him up with his ghostly claws, and now the Angel of Music sings in his head... perhaps the stars will sing a
duet?" The remaining vampires of Spike and Drusilla's nest backed away from the insane vampiress, all too aware of her volatile temper - just the fact
that she was singsonging happily while her eyes spoke of immense sorrow and loss and wept blood, while her mouth was twisted in a rictus of rage, gave
testimony enough to that. Her tarot cards fell aside as she stood and waltzed weakly about the room singing.
"Little Lotte, let her mind wander... Little Lotte thought 'Am I fonder, of dolls or of goblins, of shoes or of riddles, of frocks or of
chocolates... No, what I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head, the Angel of Music
sings songs in my head...'"
She froze in place, and her tongue slipped out to delicately lick away the bloody tear track at the corner of her mouth. "Come children... naughty
children, hiding in the shadows! Bring Mummy someone to eat, and then it's time to speak of many things, of vengeance for my Spikey, of Slayers, cats, and
kings!"
Beside her chair, three cards had landed face up, showing a cyclops, a centipede, and a jaguar.
(00(0)00)
Xander, Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia walked into the Library later that evening, Willow rubbing her nose where she'd unto the door after forgetting she
couldn't walk through things any more. Giles nearly dropped his teacup again at the sight of Xander's eyes, but the lack of forehead ridges and fangs
combined with the way he was laughing and gently ribbing his friend calmed the older man's worst fears.
"Heya G-Man!" Xander greeted him, "Willow said you tracked down that Ethan guy as the source of the spell - did you get 'im?"
"Er, no, sadly, he escaped while I was distracted, disrupting the, the magical paraphenelia that was maintaining the effect, the blighter. Are any of
you experiencing any, er, lingering consequences?" It could just be that the young man hadn't removed some costume lenses, he thought hopefully.
"I know what's up with me," Xander replied, shattering that hope, "and Cordy didn't get her costume there... Buffy? Willow?"
Willow rubbed her nose again sheepishly, and explained, "Well, I was me, just ghost-me, and it's kind of confusing switching back to
non-ghosty-ness but that's all." She looked at Buffy.
"Nothing much, the bottle blonde replied thoguhtfully. "I think I won't be having any trouble with French class any more, or doing sewing and
needlepoint in Home Ec, but that's about it. Kinda good to be me again."
"Right, if any vicious car-demons need slaying, you're our gal," Xander quipped, then yelped as he caught an elbow to the side from Buffy.
"Actually, there's more to Willow's ghosty-ness than that, but I wanted to see if she couild tell - and it has to do with what's up wth me,
too."
"Huh?" the red-head in question gulped, "Wait, do you mean I'm going to kep going ghost-y because that could beaproblemevenifit
isprettycooltobeintangiblebutwhatifIhadtoeatandcouldn'ttouchthe
foodandthat'snotevengoingintobathroomtimesandohgodIreallyneedto stoptalkingaboutthatrightnowso--"
"Breathe, Rosenburg," Cordelia cut in, "And I so don't want to hear about bathroom times in ghost-ville." Willow clammed up, and
blushed redder than her hair. "Since we're obviously not going to get out of here until your share-time is over, Dork, get on with it. I have
important Bronzing to do so this night isn't a total wash."
"Nice, Cordy," Xander scolded, met by a 'Yeah? So?' look. "Anyhoo, I went as the Phantom of the Opera, from the very end of the
musical where he teleports away. Being big with the mojo and all, and not wanting to fade away or go back to a world where he just sent the love of his life to
be with someone she loves more while he was facing down a lynch mob, he made me a deal."
"Oh dear lord," Giles interrupted, polishing his glasses in exasperation. "Xander, I'm tremendously disappointed in you. Surely
you've learned by now that those who bargain with mystical entities come to an almost universally bad end!?"
"Yeah, Buffy's always talking me out of like, half my lunches with her evil mystical Slayer-power-lip and puppy eyes," he fired back.
"Hey!" the blonde defended herself, "So not the same thing! In no way am I a creepy, ugly, evil, singing stalker-guy!" Her watcher just
rubbed his temples, knowing that this was going to be one of THOSE conversations.
"Can't argue with you there, Buffster," Xander coneeded, "But the Phantom wasn't really evil, he just never had any reason to care
about anyone besides Christine, kind of a 'do anything for love' type. But in the end, the one thing he wouldn't do for love is get between her and
the man she loved more... I'd have thought you'd appreciate that, at least," he said with a significant arch of the eyebrows.
"What, uh, yeah okay, but seriously, Xan, demony bargains: not of the good!" Buffy countered, hoping to get off the subject before it gave Giles
another chance to disapprove of Angel.
"He wasn't a demon, guys! The Phantom was just a guy with a birth defect that messed up one side of his face - his mother abanded him when he was a
toddler, and a witch took him in. The tree-huggy earth mother kind of witch, not flying monkeys and boil-curses. He started learning magic and other stuff from
her, and he's like, a total genius! It's not like he wants me to go sacrificing kittens or anything, even if he did get into darker magic later
on!"
Giles sighed heavily and said, "I reiterate, ANY deals with the supernatural have a tendency to go very poorly... perhaps you should just tell us the
bargain you made, and why on EARTH you felt you needed to!"
"Okay, okay. It's no real biggie, basically, it was just that he gets to stay and see life through a normal looking body, namely one Xander Harris,
and in return I get his skills so I can be more useful in the slayage, and to teach Wills," he explained."
"What? Me?" Willow yelped. "I mean, I've read some stuff but I can barely float a pencil and... um, oops!" She looked guiltily at
Giles, who winced and stopped putting on his glasses to give them a few more swipes with a tissue.
Before anyone could jump on that, Xander steamrolled on, "Seriously, there's no real bad here! I'm not going to suddenly turn into the Phantom,
in fact it's more like he's going to slowly turn into me and be absorbed from what he said. I'm still Xander, just... Xander-plus."
"While I can certainly understand the desire to be more effective on patrol, that still does not explain why the bloody HELL you thought it a good idea
to bargain for magical power with an acknowledged dark practitioner, let alone the notion of teaching WIllow! Magic is not a toy, and is not even a science,
even the most seemingly innocent experimentation can lead to personal tradgedy at best, or the unleashing of horrifically dark forces at worst!" the
exasperated Watcher shouted. "How could you BE so irresponsible?"
"And that's why!" Xander argued back. "The Phantom IS an experienced caster - what he does in the show is the worst he ever got, mild
magical hypnosis and basic battle magic, mostly he did illusions and enchanted gizmos to give the opera house's shows really whiz-bang special effects -
just enough to stay hidden from some vamps or appear and stake and disappear, or make them nice and toasty with a fire ball. The important part is
Willow!"
"For the love of god, HOW?" Controlling himself with effort, Giles continued, "Even granted all that, given that from her reaction when you
mentioned her Willow hadn't mentioned her dabbling to you, either, why would you think that the prospect of teaching her with the knowledge of a fictional
character to draw on was so important as to risk making such a bargain?"
"Because thanks to getting turned into a ghost Willow is now connected to the afterlife. I figured we need someone who knows how the mojo works to keep
something from coming down that connection and making with the major badness - even if it's not a possession kind of thing, it'll make it way too easy
for her to get deep into the black stuff."
Giles went pale, and stopped polishing his glasses. The rest of them were silent for a few seconds, until Cordelia stood up and announced, "Well, if
that's all, I'm heading to the Bronze. Make sure Mousy doesn't get all Wicked Witch of the West Coast without enough warning for me to leave town,
okay?" Ignoring their shocked looks, the social queen of the school made her way out of the library.
"Same old Cordelia, I guess," Xander said, after a minute. "Of course it's not important, it's not about her." he rubbed the
ring on his finger distractedly, not used to its presence, then did a double take as he realised that it had retained the weight of silver and the brilliant
inner fire of a real gemstone rather than changing back into cheap chromed plastic and glass, but dismissed it as irrelevant for the moment.
"Anyway, Giles, like you said last year when that whole thing with Amy's Mom went down, you're big with the books but don't have much
practical experience of magic. It's important to know what you're doing with the mojo, so I - both him and me, agreed that Willow needed someone with
experience at using the stuff, and at NOT using too much of the black kind despite what might happen in life, around to help her learn. That's why I said
yes, and why I'm not going to let you wipe out the Opera Ghost like after the hyena thing."
And the hell of it, thought Giles, was that the point about not going too far into the Black would still have held true even if he hadn't prevaricated
about his actual casting experience, what with the disasters of his misspent youth. He sighed again, feelingly, and looked around at all of his charges. Willow
seemed still too tongue tied from being found out dabbling, and given Buffy's relationship with the vampire Angel he had no doubt the implied truce on that
matter in Xander's earlier words had her torn with indescision at the moment. Better to cut losses before either of them actively came out in support of
each others' folly. "Since it seems that you are firmly decided in the matter I will yield for now, but I hope you can understand why I must insist
that any magical tutoring or even your own casting be done with supervision?"
Smiling and relaxing finally from the tense, semi-defensive posture he'd held up to now, Xander readily agreed, "Of course, G-Man, no need to go
crazy kicking the training wheels off of life. Gotta learn to flap your arms before you go flying to Tahiti!"
"Er... yes, quite, I'm sure." Oh yeah, it was one of THOSE conversations.
------------------------------------
Notes:
I am pretty much entirely undecided as to whether or what Xander relationships might develop, so if you want to put your two cents in, now's the time.
Possibilities are:
Willow
Vampire Willow (could stick around in place of Spike, and probably really hot to seduce her non-vampy self...)
Cordelia
Drusilla (but I feel about like canon-Xander on the subject of vampire-laying being of the bad, so give some good ideas if you like this or V.Wills)
Buffy
Kendra (but you'd have to argue hard, and give some ideas for what to do with non-Slayer Faith)
Faith
Anya (the path of least resistance, Dona Juanita Triumphant)
Of course, there's quite a bit of emotional distance to go before he's going to start up with anyone; O.G.'s memory of freeing Christine is far
too close and painful. I'm actually leaning the most toward keeping him single because nothing compares to Christine and Buffy, and at the meta-level
because I'm anything but adept at romance.
Unfortunately I can't promise anything resembling a regular update schedule, or even that updates will happen at all - though I enjoy writing, I like
reading far more, and there's a lot of good fic out there to be read, and even more mediocre to bad fic to be waded though in search of it. On the other
hand, I NEVER give up on projects entirely - I've had one grinding along like a glacier since 1991, accreteing a few lines to the latest chapter every
month or two. Then again, if I can manage to actually keep my chapter lengths down for this one, maybe it'll flow a little faster - I keep finding myself
having to split my working files up because when a single part gets over 100kb the PDA I do most of my writing on gets too bogged down![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)
This one is
uncharacteristically short because we've all seen the events of Halloween rehashed again and again and again, and there's really no point going over it
one more time substituting fireballs for gun shots and adding in bits of poorly-adapted PotO lyrics for dialogue.
---==- + -==---
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and related characters and concepts were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, The Phantom Opera by Andrew LLoyd
Webber. No challenge to the ownership of these or any other referenced properties is intended by their use in this fanfiction.
While I don't remember exactly where, I'm pretty sure that the idea that WIllow's time as a ghost strengthened her magic through a connection to
the spirit realms is from a fanfic I read a few years ago, but it makes too much sense to skip over.
EOF
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows
Summary: So Buffy wants to impress Angel with her costume? I'll give her an 'angel' all right...
Disclaimer: At the end, at least for the first chapter
X. O. G.
Xander watched, disgusted, as his almost-tender-moment of reconciliation with Buffy over the damage to his macho image earlier in the day vanished, washed
away in the flood as she gushed over an 18th century style gown. "Ooh, Angel, look at me, I'm so fluffy! Just like the girls you used to drain!"
he muttered derisively. He just couldn't understand what she saw in a walking corpse... Worst of all, he knew that going as some lame-o generic soldier
like he'd planned would never have a chance at catching her eye himself.
Unfortunately, he didn't have the kind of money it would take to rent something more impressive, and aside from the old fatigues he'd dug out of the
attic he had nothing but his normal day to day clothes and the black suit he'd worn to his grandmother's funeral.
Frustrated, he cast one last look around the cluttered shop before heading to the bin with the toy guns, then winced at the sound of something hitting the
floor. Automatically spinning to check out the noise, he saw a sheepish-looking Jonothan Levinson hastily picking up a plain white mask - the kind used for
operas and masquerades, not a "Scream" mask - and set it back on the shelf before heading to a different part of the store under the annoyed glare of
the shopkeeper.
Curious, and feeling the first tickle of an alternate costume idea in the back of his mind, he wandered over and picked up the mask himself - it was plaster
or maybe even real porcelain, and the tag was way more than he could manage, but thanks to the fall it now had a chip out of the left cheek and a huge crack
from the chin to the right corner of the mouth, and up the left side of the nose to that eye hole... but if anything, that would make it even better, if he
could get the owner to sell it cheaply enough due to the damage.
Speaking of whom, he was startled out of his brainstorming by a British accented voice asking, "Can I help you? It looks like that butterfingers
damaged that, but it's the last of that style, I'm afraid."
Xander jumped and spun around with a half-strangeld squeak, the mask slipping again to land on the hard, linoleum tile floor, the second impact finishing
the job of breaking it. "AH! Oh, jeeze, don't DO that!" he complained, before apologising, "Now it's really broken... sorry, but you
startled me. Uh... any chance I can get you to give me a break on paying for that, since it was already cracked?"
"If anyone should pay for it, it would be that other fellow, but I seem to have lost track of him. Don't worry my boy, though I do hope you can
find something else suitable now that it's gone," the englishman replied. He gave a slightly dodgy grin nd introduced himself. "I'm Ethan,
Ethan Rayne, and I could hardly get all shirty with my customers over a simple accident when I just opened the shop, now could I? Wouldn't be good
publicity."
Kneeling to collect the pieces, Xander inspected the broken edge. It was pretty clean, and not too sharp. With any luck, he'd be able to even it out
some more with the dremel in the garage, and both the loops for the elastic headband that held it on were still intact. "Actually, I think I can still
work with this," he said, contemplatively, "I just need some amber contacts, and maybe a ring..." The costume he was thinking of wouldn't
normally be his kind of thing, but the video of the production they'd been shown in English class had actually been kind of cool, espescially considering
all the pyrotechnics and things had been done right there on the stage as it was recorded rather than being added later like a movie.
"Ah? What a pleasant change to see a young person being a bit creative with their costume, rather than simply picking something off a rack. Let's
see then, I have a number of theatrical contact lenses and costume jewelry in the counter display; most of the rings with anything like a realistically sized
rhinestone are fifty cents each, while contacts are a dollar fifty. I shan't charge you for the mask, since it wasn't your fault it was
broken."
"Whoa, thanks! That's awesome, I'll, uh, make sure and tell everyone to come here, ok?" It was all Xander could do to contain the urge to
Snoopy-dance in celebration, he was going to be way cooler than some generic soldier, and hadn't spent any more money than he'd planned, meaning
he'd still have enough for a couple packs of Twinkies on the way home. Priorities were important, after all.
Ethan finished the sale and headed over to where Buffy and Willow were still admiring the period dress, which, to be fair, would probably look very good on
the Buffster... "So, she wants to impress Angel, huh?" he mused with a grin. "I'll give her an 'angel,' all right..."
(00(0)00)
The dremel had worked just like he'd hoped, a grinder tip easily smoothing away the rough broken edges of his half-a-mask and letting him shape what was
left so it looked like it had been made that way from the start. A little careful combing let his hair fall naturally and invisibly over the headband holding
it in place, the stem of his fake rose tucked neatly throguh the breast pocket buttonhole on the suit, and the black sheet he'd turned into a cloak was
light enough to billow dramatically without any special effort. He adjusted the hang of it one final time and brushed away a few flecks of dust from his suit,
then rang the doorbell at 1630 Revello Drive, and cleared his throat for the little introduction he'd spent msot of the afternoon practising, hopefully to
the point that it wouldn't cause active nausea with his singing voice.
"My goodness," Buffy's mother greeted him as she opened the door. "You certainly cleaned up nice, Xander. I don't quite recognise the
costume, though?" The amber eyes gave her a momentary pause - she had a sudden flashback to the gang attack during Parent/Teacher night, for some reason,
but she shook it off.
Here goes nothing, he thought, then sang, "I am the Angel of Music; Come to the Angel of Music..."
A wide grin split the woman's face as she caught on and she waved him in before turning and herself singing up the stairs in a warm, clear soprano,
"He's here! The Phantom of the the Opera He is with us! It's the ghost! The Phantom of the Opera!"
Turning back to the boy and speaking normally again she complimented, "That's certainly an original costume, I don't think I've ever seen
anyone dress up as the Phantom before. It seems a little darker than your usual style, but I suppose that's what Halloween is all about after
all."
"Thanks Mrs. S! You're right about Halloween, and while the Phantom was kind of the bad guy, he still did the noble thing in the end, and he kicked
lots of a... ah, butt, on the way."
"Xander, I've told you aleady to call me Joyce, 'Mrs. Summers' makes me feel far too old. Would you like some cookies while you wait for
the girls? I just finished a fresh batch."
Xander could feel his mouth start watering at the mere suggestion, and quickly adapted another snatch of music from the show. "You know how to make my
song take flight... The music of the cookies of the night!"
(00(0)00)
Xander came back to himself just in time to witness the incredibly gratifying sight of Spike being hit by a fireball and bursting into a cloud of flame and
dust, and that alone was worth the whole share-his-head deal, since with the spell apparently ended it would have winked out along with the Phantom himself
otherwise. The rest of the vampires were quickly mopped up by Buffy, now free of the wig that combined with the gown had made her look so heartbreakingly like
Christine as the Phantom had last seen her, mere minutes before the whole possession thing went down.
It was kind of scary how much they had in common, actually, as if he'd been a faint echo of the character from the beginning - Xander had always been
interested in architecture and when something broke around the house he'd tinker around to try to fix it, since otherwise who knew when his drunken excuses
for parents would even notice let alone bother to replace it. The Phantom, before being relegated to a circus and escaping to the parisian Opera Populaire, had
built a labrynth of mirrors for the Shah of Persia, a construct that was in fact a tremendously powerful magical amplifier though it carried grave risks for
the user. Thankfully Xander wasn't horribly deformed (and the rush of elation when the Phantom had pulled off his mask and looked into a whole face, even
if it was someone else's, in the reflection from a window had been intense), but he was still pretty much a social outsider.
Genius, okay, maybe not so much, that was generally Willow's department, and up until now he'd have sworn that him and the mojo were un-mixy things
like gasoline and matches, but the real kicker was that they'd both always had the music in their heads. The soundtrack of Xander's life tended more to
Country and Blues than the grand orchestras of the Phantom. Of course, the memories of how much more it was possible for life to suck than his own had kind of
dulled the appeal of the Music of Pain... he could see a lot of more upbeat, energetic stuff in his future. That had to be counted as a plus, too, really
seeing and appreciating the friends he had.
It had been the strength of that musical connection that had formed the bridge between them for O. G.'s mojo to anchor himself with. Opera Ghost, the
only name the Phantom had chosen for himself, and the only one he'd not thrown away as the ones who used the others had thrown him away... perhaps if
Christine had chosen him for real, he'd have picked another, or she would, but that was the final link between them - Christine had loved Raoul so much she
would have stayed with the Phantom to spare his life, and in the end it had been the difference in the look in her eyes when she looked at O. G. and claimed
she'd learn to love him that had made him set them both free.
Xander hated to admit it, but Buffy had the same look for Angel as Christine had for Raoul. God, could he never catch a break? At least he'd figured it
out before going on a jealous killing spree, but then he'd had Jessie, Willow, and let's not forget Saturday morning cartoons to learn his morals from
instead of a lifetime of being reviled and hunted and melodramatic opera productions as rife with plots and backstabbing both literal and figurative as a whole
season of daytime soaps condensed into each two or three hour show.
"Xander? Are you okay?" Buffy's worried question broke him out of his thoughts, and the urge to lean foreward and kiss her was all but
overwhelming as she reached up and lifted away his half-mask.
The thought of her smile for Angel stayed him, though, and he swallowed and pasted on a grin. "Ah, yeah Buff, just, you know, lots of thinky thoughts
left behind by the Phantom. He's one intense guy!"
"Intense... yeah." Like that look in his eyes then. Buffy had known her Xander-shaped friend had the occasional boy-girl thoughts about her, but
he was strictly Property of Willow and even if not, she had Angel - but that had been something else. Even the gold contacts that could have been kind of
wigsome (because hello, Hyena? vampires? What had Xander been thinking, getting those, anyway?) had been so alive and soulful that they just didn't...
Wait, what? "Xander, aren't those supposed to be contacts? How come they're adjusting like a real eye?"
Worried now, Xander snapped a hand up to feel the skin of his face where the mask had hidden it, but it was as whole and scar-free as ever. He blinked a
couple of times, but the contacts definitely felt gone. "Okay, that is of the wierd, but I think I know what's up... let's get the kids back to
the pick up at the school, and then we can talk to Giles about it, yeah?"
Buffy hesitated - anything wierd was usually bad on the Hellmouth, and when it wasn't that just meant it was probably really, truly bad instead. But, he
didn't feel demony or anything so it could probably wait a couple hours... "Okay Xander, just try not to zone out like that, it can lead to
monster-snackage."
(00(0)00)
"Oh, my poor Spikey, Kitten burned him up with his ghostly claws, and now the Angel of Music sings in his head... perhaps the stars will sing a
duet?" The remaining vampires of Spike and Drusilla's nest backed away from the insane vampiress, all too aware of her volatile temper - just the fact
that she was singsonging happily while her eyes spoke of immense sorrow and loss and wept blood, while her mouth was twisted in a rictus of rage, gave
testimony enough to that. Her tarot cards fell aside as she stood and waltzed weakly about the room singing.
"Little Lotte, let her mind wander... Little Lotte thought 'Am I fonder, of dolls or of goblins, of shoes or of riddles, of frocks or of
chocolates... No, what I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head, the Angel of Music
sings songs in my head...'"
She froze in place, and her tongue slipped out to delicately lick away the bloody tear track at the corner of her mouth. "Come children... naughty
children, hiding in the shadows! Bring Mummy someone to eat, and then it's time to speak of many things, of vengeance for my Spikey, of Slayers, cats, and
kings!"
Beside her chair, three cards had landed face up, showing a cyclops, a centipede, and a jaguar.
(00(0)00)
Xander, Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia walked into the Library later that evening, Willow rubbing her nose where she'd unto the door after forgetting she
couldn't walk through things any more. Giles nearly dropped his teacup again at the sight of Xander's eyes, but the lack of forehead ridges and fangs
combined with the way he was laughing and gently ribbing his friend calmed the older man's worst fears.
"Heya G-Man!" Xander greeted him, "Willow said you tracked down that Ethan guy as the source of the spell - did you get 'im?"
"Er, no, sadly, he escaped while I was distracted, disrupting the, the magical paraphenelia that was maintaining the effect, the blighter. Are any of
you experiencing any, er, lingering consequences?" It could just be that the young man hadn't removed some costume lenses, he thought hopefully.
"I know what's up with me," Xander replied, shattering that hope, "and Cordy didn't get her costume there... Buffy? Willow?"
Willow rubbed her nose again sheepishly, and explained, "Well, I was me, just ghost-me, and it's kind of confusing switching back to
non-ghosty-ness but that's all." She looked at Buffy.
"Nothing much, the bottle blonde replied thoguhtfully. "I think I won't be having any trouble with French class any more, or doing sewing and
needlepoint in Home Ec, but that's about it. Kinda good to be me again."
"Right, if any vicious car-demons need slaying, you're our gal," Xander quipped, then yelped as he caught an elbow to the side from Buffy.
"Actually, there's more to Willow's ghosty-ness than that, but I wanted to see if she couild tell - and it has to do with what's up wth me,
too."
"Huh?" the red-head in question gulped, "Wait, do you mean I'm going to kep going ghost-y because that could beaproblemevenifit
isprettycooltobeintangiblebutwhatifIhadtoeatandcouldn'ttouchthe
foodandthat'snotevengoingintobathroomtimesandohgodIreallyneedto stoptalkingaboutthatrightnowso--"
"Breathe, Rosenburg," Cordelia cut in, "And I so don't want to hear about bathroom times in ghost-ville." Willow clammed up, and
blushed redder than her hair. "Since we're obviously not going to get out of here until your share-time is over, Dork, get on with it. I have
important Bronzing to do so this night isn't a total wash."
"Nice, Cordy," Xander scolded, met by a 'Yeah? So?' look. "Anyhoo, I went as the Phantom of the Opera, from the very end of the
musical where he teleports away. Being big with the mojo and all, and not wanting to fade away or go back to a world where he just sent the love of his life to
be with someone she loves more while he was facing down a lynch mob, he made me a deal."
"Oh dear lord," Giles interrupted, polishing his glasses in exasperation. "Xander, I'm tremendously disappointed in you. Surely
you've learned by now that those who bargain with mystical entities come to an almost universally bad end!?"
"Yeah, Buffy's always talking me out of like, half my lunches with her evil mystical Slayer-power-lip and puppy eyes," he fired back.
"Hey!" the blonde defended herself, "So not the same thing! In no way am I a creepy, ugly, evil, singing stalker-guy!" Her watcher just
rubbed his temples, knowing that this was going to be one of THOSE conversations.
"Can't argue with you there, Buffster," Xander coneeded, "But the Phantom wasn't really evil, he just never had any reason to care
about anyone besides Christine, kind of a 'do anything for love' type. But in the end, the one thing he wouldn't do for love is get between her and
the man she loved more... I'd have thought you'd appreciate that, at least," he said with a significant arch of the eyebrows.
"What, uh, yeah okay, but seriously, Xan, demony bargains: not of the good!" Buffy countered, hoping to get off the subject before it gave Giles
another chance to disapprove of Angel.
"He wasn't a demon, guys! The Phantom was just a guy with a birth defect that messed up one side of his face - his mother abanded him when he was a
toddler, and a witch took him in. The tree-huggy earth mother kind of witch, not flying monkeys and boil-curses. He started learning magic and other stuff from
her, and he's like, a total genius! It's not like he wants me to go sacrificing kittens or anything, even if he did get into darker magic later
on!"
Giles sighed heavily and said, "I reiterate, ANY deals with the supernatural have a tendency to go very poorly... perhaps you should just tell us the
bargain you made, and why on EARTH you felt you needed to!"
"Okay, okay. It's no real biggie, basically, it was just that he gets to stay and see life through a normal looking body, namely one Xander Harris,
and in return I get his skills so I can be more useful in the slayage, and to teach Wills," he explained."
"What? Me?" Willow yelped. "I mean, I've read some stuff but I can barely float a pencil and... um, oops!" She looked guiltily at
Giles, who winced and stopped putting on his glasses to give them a few more swipes with a tissue.
Before anyone could jump on that, Xander steamrolled on, "Seriously, there's no real bad here! I'm not going to suddenly turn into the Phantom,
in fact it's more like he's going to slowly turn into me and be absorbed from what he said. I'm still Xander, just... Xander-plus."
"While I can certainly understand the desire to be more effective on patrol, that still does not explain why the bloody HELL you thought it a good idea
to bargain for magical power with an acknowledged dark practitioner, let alone the notion of teaching WIllow! Magic is not a toy, and is not even a science,
even the most seemingly innocent experimentation can lead to personal tradgedy at best, or the unleashing of horrifically dark forces at worst!" the
exasperated Watcher shouted. "How could you BE so irresponsible?"
"And that's why!" Xander argued back. "The Phantom IS an experienced caster - what he does in the show is the worst he ever got, mild
magical hypnosis and basic battle magic, mostly he did illusions and enchanted gizmos to give the opera house's shows really whiz-bang special effects -
just enough to stay hidden from some vamps or appear and stake and disappear, or make them nice and toasty with a fire ball. The important part is
Willow!"
"For the love of god, HOW?" Controlling himself with effort, Giles continued, "Even granted all that, given that from her reaction when you
mentioned her Willow hadn't mentioned her dabbling to you, either, why would you think that the prospect of teaching her with the knowledge of a fictional
character to draw on was so important as to risk making such a bargain?"
"Because thanks to getting turned into a ghost Willow is now connected to the afterlife. I figured we need someone who knows how the mojo works to keep
something from coming down that connection and making with the major badness - even if it's not a possession kind of thing, it'll make it way too easy
for her to get deep into the black stuff."
Giles went pale, and stopped polishing his glasses. The rest of them were silent for a few seconds, until Cordelia stood up and announced, "Well, if
that's all, I'm heading to the Bronze. Make sure Mousy doesn't get all Wicked Witch of the West Coast without enough warning for me to leave town,
okay?" Ignoring their shocked looks, the social queen of the school made her way out of the library.
"Same old Cordelia, I guess," Xander said, after a minute. "Of course it's not important, it's not about her." he rubbed the
ring on his finger distractedly, not used to its presence, then did a double take as he realised that it had retained the weight of silver and the brilliant
inner fire of a real gemstone rather than changing back into cheap chromed plastic and glass, but dismissed it as irrelevant for the moment.
"Anyway, Giles, like you said last year when that whole thing with Amy's Mom went down, you're big with the books but don't have much
practical experience of magic. It's important to know what you're doing with the mojo, so I - both him and me, agreed that Willow needed someone with
experience at using the stuff, and at NOT using too much of the black kind despite what might happen in life, around to help her learn. That's why I said
yes, and why I'm not going to let you wipe out the Opera Ghost like after the hyena thing."
And the hell of it, thought Giles, was that the point about not going too far into the Black would still have held true even if he hadn't prevaricated
about his actual casting experience, what with the disasters of his misspent youth. He sighed again, feelingly, and looked around at all of his charges. Willow
seemed still too tongue tied from being found out dabbling, and given Buffy's relationship with the vampire Angel he had no doubt the implied truce on that
matter in Xander's earlier words had her torn with indescision at the moment. Better to cut losses before either of them actively came out in support of
each others' folly. "Since it seems that you are firmly decided in the matter I will yield for now, but I hope you can understand why I must insist
that any magical tutoring or even your own casting be done with supervision?"
Smiling and relaxing finally from the tense, semi-defensive posture he'd held up to now, Xander readily agreed, "Of course, G-Man, no need to go
crazy kicking the training wheels off of life. Gotta learn to flap your arms before you go flying to Tahiti!"
"Er... yes, quite, I'm sure." Oh yeah, it was one of THOSE conversations.
------------------------------------
Notes:
I am pretty much entirely undecided as to whether or what Xander relationships might develop, so if you want to put your two cents in, now's the time.
Possibilities are:
Willow
Vampire Willow (could stick around in place of Spike, and probably really hot to seduce her non-vampy self...)
Cordelia
Drusilla (but I feel about like canon-Xander on the subject of vampire-laying being of the bad, so give some good ideas if you like this or V.Wills)
Buffy
Kendra (but you'd have to argue hard, and give some ideas for what to do with non-Slayer Faith)
Faith
Anya (the path of least resistance, Dona Juanita Triumphant)
Of course, there's quite a bit of emotional distance to go before he's going to start up with anyone; O.G.'s memory of freeing Christine is far
too close and painful. I'm actually leaning the most toward keeping him single because nothing compares to Christine and Buffy, and at the meta-level
because I'm anything but adept at romance.
Unfortunately I can't promise anything resembling a regular update schedule, or even that updates will happen at all - though I enjoy writing, I like
reading far more, and there's a lot of good fic out there to be read, and even more mediocre to bad fic to be waded though in search of it. On the other
hand, I NEVER give up on projects entirely - I've had one grinding along like a glacier since 1991, accreteing a few lines to the latest chapter every
month or two. Then again, if I can manage to actually keep my chapter lengths down for this one, maybe it'll flow a little faster - I keep finding myself
having to split my working files up because when a single part gets over 100kb the PDA I do most of my writing on gets too bogged down
This one isuncharacteristically short because we've all seen the events of Halloween rehashed again and again and again, and there's really no point going over it
one more time substituting fireballs for gun shots and adding in bits of poorly-adapted PotO lyrics for dialogue.
---==- + -==---
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and related characters and concepts were created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, The Phantom Opera by Andrew LLoyd
Webber. No challenge to the ownership of these or any other referenced properties is intended by their use in this fanfiction.
While I don't remember exactly where, I'm pretty sure that the idea that WIllow's time as a ghost strengthened her magic through a connection to
the spirit realms is from a fanfic I read a few years ago, but it makes too much sense to skip over.
EOF
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows