AN: I know this has been done, but I just couldn't resist. I hope you like my interpretation, and please let me know what you think.

Stave One:

Avaric's Ghost

Avaric was dead to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that.

Fiyero had seen his friend and wingman's demise with his own eyes at the hand of a particularly vicious ex-girlfriend. For years Fiyero and Avaric had frequented clubs together, until that fateful night at the Philosophy Club when that redhead (Pfannee was it?) caught him cheating and stabbed him in the stomach with a sharpened stiletto.

It caused quite the stir around Shiz when it happened, no doubt heightened by the very public trial. Pfannee had claimed his cheating drove her to it, and a string of girls had been paraded through the courtroom to bemoan their lousy treatment at the hands of the famed philanderer.

Despite their complaints, Fiyero noted that scores of girls still came wailing to the funeral, dressed in little black cocktail dresses more than mourning garb. In honor of his friend's memory, he collected their phone numbers solemnly for later encounters.

The mention of Avaric's funeral brings us back to the starting point. It must be distinctly understood. Avaric was dead. There was no doubt, whatsoever.

Fiyero never replaced him as a wingman, but then, he hadn't really any need. The scandalacious prince could pick up a nun at church on Sunday. One flip of his shaggy hair, and the girls would all swoon. It had been the kindred spirit in Avaric more than the need for assistance that had brought the two together. While no one could dance through life like Fiyero, his friend sure could manage a mean tango.

Ah, Fiyero Tiggular.

Oh, but he was a gorgeous, thoughtless philanderer. He could fall in and out of bed with girls as oft as change his shoes, and with as little concern for the feelings of either. A heartbreaker, for sure. The mere hint of commitment, or devotion, or, perish the thought, love, and he'd run screaming. He was simply put, not boyfriend material.

But what did Fiyero care? It was the very thing he liked. To breeze through life skirting the edges of…skirts. It was why he both loved and dreaded Lurlinemas. A night of desperation for so many willing women, but one that begged for whispered oaths of devotion rather than anonymous moans in the dark.

It was such that Fiyero often chose to spend the holiday, as much as could be done so, blindingly drunk.

So Lurlinemas Eve found him draped miserably over a park bench in one of Shiz's many courtyards, not entirely certain how he'd found himself there.

"Merry Lurlinemas!" cried a perky voice, and Galinda flounced into view. "You didn't go home for the holidays either?"

"Shh," he clutched his head and closed his eyes against the pounding hangover.

"Goodness, how long have you been out here? You're freezing." She kindly ignored the drool, and possible vomit, speckling his collar. "Come along. We'll get you indoors."

He hadn't the energy to fight her, so he shuffled along beside. This was dangerous, he knew, as he'd recently discovered she believed them to be dating. A fair understanding, as he'd been kind enough to grace her bed more than once despite not being fully rewarded for it.

But he was a scoundrel, and he knew it. So he let her take him back to her hot shower and fluffy pillows. Once the cotton cleared his head, he'd find a way to slip out.

"What's he doing here?"

That grumblesome roommate of hers. Prickly and sharp, and utterly intriguing, he couldn't muster the will to rise to her banter.

"I found him on the bench. He's freezing."

"He's hungover."

"He's listening," he groused. "Any chance I can admit to all charges and just take a shower?"

"Sure," Galinda offered at the same time Elphaba snapped, "Absolutely not."

As usual, he chose to listen to the one he found most pleasant. "Great." He fought with his buttons, tuning out the girls' bickering.

"At least go in the bathroom if you're going to strip!"

Fair enough. He stumbled that direction. Blonde Galinda was adorable, and fun, but that roommate of hers…. He should hate her, as much as she pecked at him. But something about her made him want to do better.

Not that he did.

Still. Surely he'd been good enough to deserve a present this year. Perhaps a green one wrapped in a red bow? And nothing else.

He took a long shower, enjoying the smell of the girls' shampoos.

"Fiyero? Are you alright?"

He slapped the water off and the curtain back. With a towel carelessly flung around his waist, he staggered to the door and wrenched it open. "So whose bed am I sleeping in?"

Elphaba snapped her arms across her chest. "This is what you bring home? Honestly, Galinda."

He bobbed a nod. "Not yours, then." He flopped face first into Galinda's bed, and promptly passed out.

As he surrendered to the fog, he thought he'd seen Avaric's face in the pillow. Odd, and a bit disturbing, it couldn't match the overwhelming desire to not care. So care he didn't, and embraced the darkness.

A flicking at his ears roused him. He groaned and swatted at the hands, but it didn't stop. A voice came by his ear, "Wake up."

He shot out of bed. Not that he wasn't accustomed to whispered nothings, but not of the male variety.

There, lounging against Galinda's bedspread, lay a ghostly incarnation of Avaric, heel in his chest and all. His eyes darted for the girls to confirm this insanity, but he was alone.

"No. I must be asleep."

Avaric smirked, and the familiar sight tugged at him. But he pushed it away. The boy rocked to his feet, with a deafening clink of chains. They struck together in heavy iron rings that drove a spike of fear into his heart with each resounding clang.

"Fiyerooooo." The specter stood free now, and then glanced around the room. "Wait, where are we?"

"Galinda's room."

"The blonde?" For a second, Avaric's features turned wolfish, and he grinned. "Nicely done."

More than anything, that convinced him of his friend's true identity. Fiyero backed up a step, and landed in an undignified heap on Elphaba's bed.

"The roommate, too, huh? Isn't she a little…?" Avaric mimed a flat chest. "I mean, Galinda." He winked, tracing an hourglass figure that clattered his chains together. He shook his head. "No, no. That's why I've come."

"For Galinda?"

"No, kumquat. For you."

"Look man, I'm not really into that." He held up a hand. "I mean, not the dead thing, though, yeah, that, too."

Avaric shook his chains in a roar that echoed through the tiny dorm. Fiyero shrunk back into the pillow. "Do you believe in me?"

"Yeah, sure. Slightly buggery ghost of Avaric past." He'd never seemed that way in life, but perhaps death changed him.

The boy withdrew the heel from his chest with a sickening smack.

"Oz, Av, why are you doing this?"

"It is required of every man to reach out and connect with his fellow men, and women. And if he does it not in life, he is doomed to do so in death."

Then his friend should have been fine. Avaric had done even more…connecting…than even Fiyero had. Once he'd slept with a girl, her best friend and her sister all on the same night. Perhaps at the same time. He'd been a bit hazy on the details. "Why do you have chains?"

"They are the women I chained myself to, and casually cut asunder."

"That's a lot of chains."

"I casually chained many women." He strode closer, and Fiyero pressed back into the wall. "Do you not recognize its pattern?"

"Is it Kumbricia's face? I'm always terrible at these things."

"You've labored on your own. It is a ponderous beauty."

Fiyero's hand crossed his bare chest as if expecting irons draped about. With a start, he realized his towel lay forgotten on the bed opposite. He cupped his groin. Not for his modesty. He hadn't any of that. But he didn't want to tempt his ghostly friend. It seemed uncharitable to taunt him with what he couldn't have.

Avaric caught his inattention, and threw the towel at his face. "For Oz sake, could you pay attention? I'm trying to save your immortal soul."

"Right. Yeah. Sorry." Not that he blamed the boy. He wasn't the first, nor would he likely be the last. Towel wrapped securely again, Fiyero waved the ghost on.

Avaric's pursed lips were not amused. "I have no comfort to give. No rest, no peace. No company save my remorse." His step forward rattled his chains. "Oft I've wished to end my loneliness, but to no end. Oft, I've sat beside you, shouted for you to listen. Why it worked this time, I couldn't say."

"Wait, you've been invisible beside me?" Fiyero tightened his grip on his towel. "Av, mate, that's a little stalkerish."

"No, you idiot!" Avaric's shout echoed in the room, and he flinched. "Don't you understand? You'll have the same fate." Fiyero flatted himself into the wall. "If you don't find some girl to settle down, love, marry-"

"Marry? Why would I get married?'

Avaric sneered at the horror in his voice. "Because you fall in love."

Fiyero openly gawked at him. "Love?"

"If you don't find an anchor for these chains, you'll be left to wander, as I have, lost through eternity."

He shuddered. "But…marriage? Surely there's another way."

"I must go. My time is past. And I fear you're hopeless."

He sagged back. "Well, if you feel that's best."

"You will be haunted by three Spirits."

"What?" Fiyero started up, but shrunk back at the thought of actually touching the ghost. "Avaric, that's not necessary. I understand. I've got to marry some girl."

His friend glared. "Expect the first tomorrow at the toll of one."

"No, really. Find a girl, love her, marry her. See? No need for ghosts."

"Without their visits, you cannot hope to free yourself from my fate."

Fiyero crossed his arms. "Fine. Can't they all come together and get it over with?"

"Expect the second at the same hour the next day. And the third upon the next night, before the clock chimes twelve."

"Three days?" he whined. "Can I at least be drunk?" If he meant one in the morning, he might be anyway. Well, one in the afternoon, too, really.

"Remember what I've said. For your own sake. I'll not return."

Thank goodness for that at least.

As he watched, Avaric drifted to the window, where phantoms filled the air, wandering with a restless moan and loosely chained like his friend. Avaric joined the eerie dirge, and the host faded into a dreary mist.

He watched the sky for a bit after they left, unsettled by the encounter.

Then he turned back to room.

"Odd." He shrugged, and with a shot from his hip flask, plopped back against Elphaba's pillows. He'd sleep into tomorrow. If he had to take extra lessons, and ghostly ones at that, he should at least be allowed to neglect his current ones.