Author's Note: I would have liked this to take place back in the original era of Phantom, however several technical aspects would not be possible (i.e. really good pre-recorded music). I'm trying to keep some of the old-world charm of the story but this is a fun one for me. I'm going to try to avoid the angst as much as possible and make the story amusing. Characters' likenesses are based off of the movie version.

Disclaimer: Well, since this is fanfiction, it is obviously based off of already published and therefore copyrighted work. All characters and such that seem familiar are property of Leroux, Kay, ALW, et.all. If any parts of the storyline seem familiar yet not from the afore mentioned people, you are probably either from Caz or are weird (I apologize if I accidentally use a major part of someone's already-posted story, please let me know!) Any song lyrics used are property of the stated groups/persons and their associates. I wish I could profit from this story (and thus, their use) but I cannot and will not.

Dancing Demon

Chapter 1

"ERIK!" I shrieked as I stormed down the stairs to his underground lair. Taken by utter surprise at my uncharacteristic entrance, I must have startled him because when I stepped into the music room I found Erik on his knees frantically trying to gather scattered sheet music from the stone floor. He glared at me from the floor as he tried to organize the stack in his hand. I noticed a candle had tipped over and had set flame to one of his papers. I motioned towards it and he jumped like a frightened cat to stomp out the flames. I cannot recall how many times I warned him that although candlelight is wildly romantic, a great fire risk is posed by having a room lit entirely by candles. Traditional eccentric romanticist that he is, Erik always insisted on composing by candlelight. He shot another glare in my direction. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sorry," I mumbled. A grunt was all I got in return. After placing the disheveled stack of papers back on his piano, he turned back to face me.

"Now, my dearest Christine, what is the matter?" he said with great annoyance. Evidently I interrupted something important. I could feel my face grow hot in anger.

"Carlotta is back to her old tricks," I spat. The obnoxious diva with a superiority complex was constantly trying to prove that she is better than everyone else. I will admit that there's nothing wrong with a little healthy competition but she doesn't compete; she sabotages and brings others down in order to get to the top. Luckily, I was able to stay under her radar for a while, but with a recent turn of events where I sang a lead role in her stead due to an illness, I had become her number one target.

"She has really outdone herself this time. Sometimes I wish she would just disappear," I said with disgust. I noticed a flicker in Erik's face and he raised his visible eyebrow. "No, Erik. I didn't mean it that way." I had momentarily forgotten who I was talking to. Erik was the kind of man I had to be clear with. If I said I wanted someone dead or to disappear, he would be more than happy to oblige, even more so when it had to do with Carlotta. Frankly, I am surprised that she has escaped his wrath thus far.

I shuddered at the morbid disappointment he displayed. There are times when I just don't get Erik and his craving for violence. On the other hand, I find it quite flattering—and oddly comforting—that I have him as an ally should such measures be necessary.

"What I meant to say is that I just wish she would stop this foolishness. I don't care who she considers best because she will always believe it to be herself. I just wish she would be content with that and leave the rest of us alone. I wish she would leave me alone!" Erik just stood in silence as I raved. He is sometimes a good listener, except when he's not.

"What has she done now?" he asked in a concerned voice. I just shook my head and handed him the flier I had crumpled in my hand. He gingerly took the piece of paper and smoothed it out. As his eyes skimmed the text, I could see the visible side of his face turn more and more white with each line. When finished, he lifted his head and had the deer-in-the-headlights look and I couldn't quite make out where the mask on his face started. He truly looked like he had just seen a ghost, but of course I knew that wasn't the case. I'm sure I displayed a similar expression when I first saw the flier taped up in the dormitory bathroom of the Opera House. I tore it down immediately in disbelief. Of all the rotten things Carlotta could have done, this was probably the worst. Not only was she trying to embarrass me, she was attempting to disprove my sanity. I told Erik this.

"B-b-but why?" he stuttered, still dumbfounded. I have never heard Erik stutter once the whole while I've known him. I believe the poor guy was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Because even after all of this, Carlotta believes that you are something I've made up. She doesn't believe there is a Phantom of the Opera, that all of the 'accidents' that have occurred are Raoul's doing." Erik's face went from white to crimson.

"Are you telling me that she is giving all of the credit to that FOP!" he steamed. "I may not be proud of my past actions, but some of them were brilliantly carried out. To think that she believes that mindless fairy-man could even dream up such work is utterly preposterous!" He started pacing around the room. I let him pace. It was more constructive than him bottling up his rage and exploding on the Vicomte. We have all agreed on a tenuous treaty where Erik and Raoul promise not to beat each other to bloody pulps, and I remain friends with both. I'm the moderator, so to speak. The treaty only calls for no violence; insults and the like are still fair game. I rolled my eyes, being reminded yet again that there is no love lost where those two men are concerned.

"She should die a slow, horrible death just for that," he continued to grumble.

"Erik! No more talk of that!" I scolded, hands on my hips. "Every other time Carlotta tried to pull something, you have intervened by doing something borderline evil. True, it may have worked for the moment, but it hasn't stopped anything." Erik stopped his pacing and waited for my point.

"I'm listening, go on," he urged after a few moments of silence. I was unsure of how exactly to put this.

"I think it may be time to play her game," I started hesitantly. I knew I was walking on some very thin ice with Erik's temper. "I think we should meet her challenge and have it completely backfire on her." I paused and looked for a reaction from my companion. I found none so I continued. "Of course she will advertise it as evidenced by this flier, so what better way to defeat her than by public embarrassment of her own doing. She will have no one to blame but herself."

"I just don't know, Christine," he said, throwing the flier at me. "Me being in public never ends well."

"I know," I replied. "But I don't see a way around this...without killing or maiming anyone." I shot him a meaningful look. "Please, Erik," I pleaded. "Do this for me?" I let my eyes go soft and pouted slightly. With my sad-puppy face, I could never be denied especially by Erik. This time was no exception.

"Oh, alright, alright. I'll do it. Just stop looking at me like that!" He stormed over to his piano bench and sat down, looking terribly shaken. "Don't blame me when they come after us with pitchforks and torches. You got me into this mess," he called over his shoulder.

I walked up behind him and threw my arms around his shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank you so much! I knew I could count on you!"

"Humph, now scamper off and leave me in peace to contemplate the most pleasant method of suicide."

"Stop being such a curmudgeon," I countered, placing the flier on top of his piano. "I will go for now, but you and I have much work to do in a week." That's right, one week. Exactly 7 days from now, the flesh-and-blood Phantom of the Opera and I—as advertised—were going to be competing in the Dancing Divas ballroom dancing competition.

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The Dancing Divas competition was founded twenty years ago as a fundraiser for Friends of the Opera, the non-profit organization now financing the Opera House restoration and operation. What started out as a small-town fundraiser has now grown into one of the most anticipated events in the area. One person from each couple must be an employee or a student of the Opera House, and the couples perform any style of ballroom dance to their chosen music in front of a judge's panel. There is a technical section and a freestyle section where anything goes, and the couple with the highest combined score wins the competition. On top of that, the audience is able to choose their favorite couple for an award as well. The top prize offered is five hundred dollars and a two hundred dollar award for People's Choice.

"Five HUNDRED dollars?" Meg squealed. "Where do I sign up!" I shook my head at my blond friend.

"The entry deadline was five weeks ago," I sighed. "Everyone else has a five-week lead on us." How were we ever going to pull something like this off? While better than average, I was never the best dancer in the world; Erik and Madame Giry were the main reasons I was accepted into the Opera House to begin with. As for Erik...to be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure about Erik. He certainly had the grace, but he did not have the patience.

"Relax, Christine," Meg took my hand and smiled. "You forget that a) Erik is an artistic genius and that he would do anything for you, b) you have the most strict and most disciplined choreographer and coach, my mother, and finally c) you have an entire Opera House worth of resources at your disposal and I'm sure everyone here would go above the call to see to see Carlotta get taken down. With everything you have on your side, you and Erik will come up with something brilliant. You can't fail!"

Meg, my cheerleader, always seems to know exactly when I need a pep talk. I smiled back at her, my worries melting away.

"Go find your mother, Meg, and fill her in. I will collect Erik from his Bat Cave and meet you in the small dance studio." Meg nodded and ran off. I turned to the large mirror in my room and flicked the hidden switch. The mirror slid open to reveal a dark, damp passageway. I remember a time when this passageway meant nothing but fear to me. Now, it was merely another door to another area of the Opera House, and I couldn't help but smile as I moved down it. I had come to dread what lay that the other end, but that has since changed to a feeling of coming home because I know a dear friend resides down there. The next seven days were going to be a major test of our friendship, but I have faith. Devotion as great as Erik's cannot be destroyed easily even by someone who once completely broke his heart.

A.N. Reviews and comments are greatly welcomed and even more greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcome too, but please don't flame. If you are really unhappy with my fic for one reason or another or are insulted, don't read it.