Stranger Than You Dream It
Based on The Phantom of The Opera
Artwork created by Artmetica on live journal.
Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke as well as Warner Bros. Television and Productions. The plot of the story is taken from The Phantom Of the Opera which belongs to Gaston Leroux and Pierre Lafitte and Cie., Warner Bros, Andrew Lloyd Webber, etc.
A/N: This story is based on the movie, things are not exactly accurate. Time period has been altered, the story begins in our current year and shifts to a flashback ten years ago, the theatre has been shut down.
Characters may seem OOC.
Italics : original dialogue/text from the play.
Rated M: non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language. Can contain adult language, themes and suggestions. Detailed descriptions of physical interaction of sexual or violent nature.
"Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of how it may look when reassembled. Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination, gentlemen?"
In sleep he sang to me in dreams he came
That voice which calls to me and speaks my name
And do I dream again? For now I find
The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind
Sing once again with me our strange duet
My power over you grows stronger yet
And though you turn from me to glance behind
The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind
Those who have seen your face draw back in fear
I am the mask you wear it's me they hear
My spirit and my voice in one combined
The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind
Beware the Phantom of the Opera
Is that the Phantom of the Opera?
The dust-filled and heavy cover dropped from the chandelier as the dimmed lights began to Illuminate the gloomy, dark, cold and ancient room as it gracefully rose finding its destination centred high above the magnificent theatre, the angels perched upon the pedestals kept silently their gaze on the beings moving about the ground. The dust in the air faded like a current of wind whispering as more and more movement began to appear upon the thousands of seats below, the walls shook as vibrant colours overtook the scenery, the angels in the ceiling once again smiled for they knew it was the rebirth of something blessed, something inexplicable yet most wonderful deed the heavens would bestow upon earth.
The commotion of anxiety, excitement and frustration travelled thickly in the ambient of the set as persons in assigned costumes rushed in and out of the changing rooms; the men running everywhere setting the stage, the smell of sweat, inexpensive liquor, grime, paint, wood varnish, roll-ups among other unpleasant odours filled the air making their heads dizzy as bodies pressed against one another to reach their needed positions. The maestro assembling his orchestra already exasperated with the disorder in the small space winced as he watched his instruments being handled uncaringly. The musicians gambled into the orchestra pit as a group of spear carriers eating a meal around a pot in their dressing room tossed food at the dogs waiting by the door making them chase each other for it down the corridor and crash through the half-open door; a sinister figure in overalls stood watching through a hole in the wall, Gordon Walker, the scene shifter, as the youngest ballet dancers changed into their costumes. He followed a few of them, including Madame Harvelle, the concierge, Johanna Harvelle, her daughter, Meg Masters, Dean Winchester and his brother Sam, they push past him to join the other dancers being drilled by Harvelle, also the severe ballet mistress, in the rehearsal studio, they are late which made the concierge glare at them. Outside of the theatre Gabriel, Viscount of Chagny arrives in his barouche. Crowley Giudicelli rehearsed in the set with Monsieur Robert, or Bobby, as the others still practiced their dance routines backstage.
Dean was a tall, brawny man with short, blond hair, his forest-green eyes and long lashes gave him a charm along with his soft and full, pink lips which made him one of the most attractive men in the city as well as the opera. He had a passion for music like no other having been influenced by his father, John Winchester, one of Hampshire's grandest violinists who had continued his career in America where Dean and Sam were born; their mother, Mary, had died when Sam was only an infant, saved his brother when their father was out of the city for a performance. Dean was only four yet a very intelligent child. The fire had 'mysteriously' ignited in the nursery where Mary sat by the window gazing at the stars holding Sam in her arms singing 'Hey Jude' as he closed his eyes to sleep. Dean had woken up that night from a nightmare, he climbed off his bed to find his mother and had found her on the floor in a pool of blood as the room filled with smoke, the furniture, curtains and walls set on fire, the glass from the window was broken and Sam cried in his cradle wrapped around blankets; he picked the child from the cradle before taking one last look at his mother as the fire reached her. And he ran, ran with the youngster in his arms until his feet could no longer carry him and dropped on his knees holding the shivering child in his arms. It was during the break of dawn when a couple, Bobby singer and Crowley Giudicelli, had found Dean with the infant wrapped in his pyjamas holding him close to his chest as he silently slept, they had taken both of the children as they waited for a parent to claim them.
After the death of Mary, John had proper neglected his children emotionally, obliging them to submit to his demanding regulations, teaching them the art of music; they learned to play almost every instrument John could play, mostly the violin and at a young age Dean discovered he had quite a talent, an angelic voice which John silently admired encouraging his son to develop it further.
"When I am in heaven, Child, I will send the angel of music to you." he would always remind Dean after the rehearsal.
At the age of sixteen, Dean Winchester was responsible for his twelve-year old brother, John had died of a heart attack and the hospital had tried in vain to revive him yet it seemed the heavens called upon him. Bobby Singer and Crowley Giudicelli had adopted the boys since the government had threatened to separate them which broke both men's hearts seeing Dean desperately cling to his brother as they took Sam away.
Crowley and Bobby were two of the most respected men among the music industry, tenors with true talents, they were a duet which made them quite successful. Crowley was an arrogant, sassy man yet cared for the ones he loved. Bobby had the heart of a father, fond of Dean and Sam as his own and he'd raised them practically in the opera house where later the boys developed an interest in dance.
"This way, gentlemen, this way. Rehearsals, as you see, are under way, for a new production of Chalumeau's 'Hannibal'. Ladies and gentlemen, some of you may already, perhaps, have met Mr. Campbell and Mr. Ackles…" Benny Lafitte spoke introducing the two gentlemen to Rufus, the maestro.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Lafitte, we are rehearsing. If you wouldn't mind waiting a moment?" he frowned glancing at the men and back at Crowley.
"My apologies, Rufus, proceed, proceed." he nodded.
"Thank you." Rufus nodded back, the rehearse continued.
"Sad to return to find the land we love threatened once more by Rome's far-reaching grasp. Tomorrow, we shall break the chains of Rome. Tonight, rejoice - your army has come home." Bobby continued rehearsing.
"Signor, Bobby Singer, one of our principal tenors. He does play so opposite Crowley Giudicelli." whispered Benny to Samuel and Ackles.
"Gentlemen, please! If you would kindly move to one side?" interrupted Ellen rolling her eyes at them.
"Sorry, Ellen." smiled Benny moving to aside along with the other two men, "Mrs. Harvelle, our ballet mistress. I don't mind confessing, Mr. Ackles, I won't be sorry to finally retire from all this…" he motioned with his hands to the theatre.
"I keep asking you, Lafitte, why exactly are you retiring?" Ackles asked knitting his brows as he kept his gaze on Benny.
"We are very proud of our excellent ballerinas and ballet dancers." he responded seeming pensive for a brief moment.
"Who is that girl, Lafitte?" asked Samuel pointing towards a blonde girl.
"Her? Johanna Beth Harvelle, Mrs. Harvelle's daughter. Promising dancer." he smiled smugly.
"Most promising." nodded Samuel in agreement.
"You! Dean Winchester! Concentrate, boy!" snapped Ellen at Dean who was distracted staring at Crowley quarrel with Rufus, he turned his head back to Ellen and apologised resuming to practice his part with Jo.
"Dean, what's wrong, hun?" asked Jo with a concerned tone.
"Uh, nothing." he blinked twice before putting a smile on his face.
"Winchester? Curious name." said Ackles staring at Dean.
"From Hampshire, England." spoke Benny also starring at the blond boy who clumsily dropped Jo seeming nervous from their gaze.
"Any relation to the violinist?" Samuel asked narrowing his eyes at Benny.
"His son, I believe. Always has his head in the clouds, I'm afraid. The other boy, the tallest in the room." he pointed at Sam, "Is his younger brother."
"Younger brother? Why, the boy's a moose!" chuckled Samuel with amusement in his eyes, Benny and Ackles laughed.
"Yes, he just turned twenty years old, Dean is four years older, I believe."
"Bid welcome to Hannibal's guests -the elephants of Carthage! As guides on our conquering quests, Dido sends Hannibal's friends!" the chorus interrupted the men's attention.
"Once more to my welcoming arms my love returns in splendour!" sang Crowley.
"Once more to those sweetest of charms my heart and soul surrender!" followed Bobby.
"The trumpeting elephants sound - hear, Romans, now and tremble! Hark to their step on the ground - hear the drums! Hannibal drums!" sang once again the chorus.
"Ladies and gentlemen - Mrs. Harvelle, thank you - may I have your attention, please?" interrupted Benny speaking loud which echoed throughout the room, the room quieted slowly, the dancers kept still and turned towards him, "As you know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my Imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, Mr. Alan Roger Ackles and Mr. Samuel Campbell." he pointed with both his hands towards the men who politely nodded at the crowd. "Gentlemen, Signor Crowley Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now." he introduced Crowley as he approached the men proceeding to shake hands with them.
"Of course, of course. I have experienced all your greatest roles, Signor." Samuel spoke.
"And Signor Bobby Singer." Benny added.
"An honour, Signor." Ackles shook hands with Bobby. "It is an honour to meet you both. Signor Crowley is truly magnificent!"
"A diva!" joined Benny.
"yes, yes, yes, but no!" snapped Crowley seeming not pleased despite the compliments, "I've not my costume ready because someone did not finish it! And I HATE MY HAT!" he yelled making his voice echo through out the opera as he pointed a finger towards his ridiculously flamboyant hat. Benny, Samuel and Ackles glanced at each other then back at Crowley.
"I will not be singing! Andiamo tutti! Abbiamo finito, finito! Bye, bye!" he pushed through the bodies in his way motioning with his hands to his Italian maid, Italian seamstress, Bobby, Sam and Dean, "Tenor, tenor coming through! Move it, morons!" he yelled at Sam and Dean who stood in his way, Dean glared at him while Sam fixed a spiteful look on his face.
"Asshat." scoffed Dean as Crowley started walking away from the stage, luckily he did not hear what the boy had said, Sam smirked, surely they had a certain affection for the man yet they had their limits.
"If I remember rightly, Elissa has a rather fine aria in Act Three of 'Hannibal'. I wonder, Signor, if, as a personal favour, you would oblige us with a private rendition? Unless, of course, Rufus objects…" Benny turned to Rufus with pleading eyes, Rufus sighed and nodded.
"My manager commands . . . Mr. Rufus?" Crowley looked at Rufus raising his eyebrows.
"My diva commands. Will two bars be sufficient introduction?" he turned to the other men.
"Two bars will be quite sufficient." nodded Ackles.
"Signor?" he fake smiled at Crowley.
"Maestro." Crowley nodded.
"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye ...Remember me, Every so often, Please promise me you'll try …" Crowley sang rather awful in his tenor voice which made the cleaning crew over in the halls of the audience seats cover their ears with earplugs they often carried due to these situations. The crowd in the set was focused upon Crowley missing the mysterious shadow above the stage. "On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me ...Think of me, think of me…" he abruptly stopped as a heavy curtain fell upon him, he would later deny having squealed as he landed on the wooden floor with his face upon the cool boards.
"The Phantom of the Opera! He's with us, he's a ghost ...He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" the cast ran in different directions away from the theatre babbling as others panicked. Dean, Sam and Jo stood still watching the crowd disperse. Ellen ran behind the stage and caught a glimpse of a shadow moving above, her eyes fixed upon an envelope falling from the balcony.
"Signor! Are you all right?" Benny ran towards Crowley helping to remove the heavy curtain off his back with the other two men. "Gordon! Where is Gordon? Get that man down here! Chief of the flies. He's responsible for this. Gordon! For God's sake, man, what's going on up there?" he yelled trying to find Gordon who appeared on the balcony moments later with a smirk on his face, apparently intoxicated with alcohol.
"Please monsieur, don't look at me." his words slurred slightly as he raised his hands in defence, "As God's my witness, I was not at my post. Please monsieur, there's no one there: and if there is, well then, it must be a ghost…" he chuckled resuming to pull the cords from the curtains as they rose back to their position.
"He's there; the Phantom of the Opera …" whispered Jo to Dean pointing towards the balcony. Dean fixed his eyes on the dark balcony where he saw nothing but the faint shadow moving away, it arose his curiosity yet dared not to think more of it.
"Good heavens! Will you show a little courtesy?" yelled Samuel at Gordon.
"Signor, please…" Ackles motioned to Crowley to sit down, Crowley breathed in and out attempting to calm down, with Bobby at his side.
"I'm alright, love." he turned to Bobby as he held his hand.
"These things do happen." said Samuel nervously smiling at Crowley who glared at him preparing to burst out in anger once again.
"Bollocks! These things do happen! For three years these things have happened and you have not stopped them! Well, until you stop these things happening, this thing does not happen! Bobby! Let's go!" he stormed out of the room.
"Idjits." said Bobby glaring at the three men then turned to leave.
"I don't think there is anything else I can help you with, gentlemen." Benny grinned as he turned to leave. "Good luck, if you need me I'll be as far away as possible. Purgatory if possible." he chuckled and left the two men. Ackles and Samuel sighed.
"Crowley will be back." sighed Ackles looking around the room.
"You think so, gentlemen? I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost." said Ellen walking towards Ackles and Samuel with a white envelope in her hands, it was sealed with red wax and a strange sigil not one of them recognised.
"God in Heaven, you're all obsessed!" said Ackles putting his hands up in frustration.
"He merely welcomes you to his opera house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due." she shrugged still holding the envelope in her hands.
"His salary?" Ackles frowned turning his head towards box five above the audience seats.
"Mr. Lafitte paid him twenty thousand dollars (approximately twelve thousand, four hundred and ninety pounds) a month. Hey, maybe you can afford more, with that rich boy, Vicomte de Chagny as your patron." she smirked.
"Madame, I had hoped to have made that announcement myself." glared Ackles at Ellen but she simply rolled her eyes at him.
"Is he going to be here tonight for the performance, Mr. Ackles?" she asked crossing her arms.
"Yes, in our box." he nodded.
"Madame, who is the understudy for this role?"
"There is no understudy, sir - the production is new." Rufus spoke for the first time after standing there watching all them without interest.
"Dean Winchester could sing it, sir!" Ellen interrupted turning to the young man standing next to Jo; he was pushed by the girl and he slowly stepped closer to the crowd.
"The clumsy boy?" Ackles frowned looking at Dean up and down.
"He's been taking lessons from a great teacher." she smiled and looked at Dean.
"From whom?" Samuel looked at Jo knitting his brows.
"I don't know, sir…" Dean shifted in his position awkwardly.
"Oh, not you as well! Can you believe it? A full house - and we have to cancel!" Ackles almost pulled his hair.
"Let him sing for you, sir. He has been well taught!" Ellen added with a small nod towards the men.
"From the beginning of the aria then, boy." Rufus smiled at Dean who looked around the room, Sam gave him two thumbs up and that was enough for the older boy to feel confidence.
"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me every so often -promise me you'll try." Rufus played on the piano as Dean began to sing closing his eyes as he focused on the sound coming out of him.
"Samuel, this is doing nothing to my nerves!" whispered Ackles to the other man.
"Stop bitching." he replied which left Ackles with his mouth agape while Jo behind them giggled with Sam.
"On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free,
if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me ...And though it's clear,
though it was always clear that this was never meant to be,
He focused his eyes on the crowd feeling the nerves set in, his body trembled but he managed to keep standing for he remembered the voice in his head assuring him this could only be done by him. The lights on the stage were blinding and he could make a few faces from the audience and the boxes in the opera. A dark figure appeared in box number five yet Dean did not notice.
if you happen to remember, stop and think of me ...
Think of August when the trees were green -
don't think about the ways things might have been ...
Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned.
Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind.
Think of me, please say you'll think of me, whatever else you choose to do -
There will never be a day when I won't think of you"
"Can it be? Can it be Dean? Bravo! Bravo!" Gabriel stood up from his seat next to the managers and walked out of the box, heading downstairs to greet Dean first as he finished singing his piece. Sam stood behind Jo by the entrance hiding a blush yet feeling disappointed Gabriel took no notice of him. "Long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were!"
"Flowers fade, the fruits of Summer fade - they have their season, so do we ... But please promise me that sometimes, you will think ... ... of me!" he held the note as long as he could before the instrumental music stopped. The crowd was silent before the royal hands began to clap followed by the cheering of the audience.
"Yes, you did well. He will be pleased." Ellen murmured under her breath that no one heard.
Behind the stage the dancers, stage workers, assistants, instrument players and among others interacted with each other; the room was loud with hundreds of different conversations. People descending or ascending the stairs, others running from place to place, others celebrating with cheap liquor or scotch while Jo and Gabriel made their way to the crowd in search for Dean who had disappeared after his performance.
He knelt on the cold floor as he lighted a candle in the opera house's chamber; the moonlight penetrated the stained glass hitting the wall and the scent of the room was of dust, wax and death. He sat in silence wishing John was there to see the man he had become, the success he had achieved, but he hoped from heaven he could take a glance at him.
"Bravo, bravo, bravissimo." a deep, soft and mysterious voice violated the silence; Dean turned his head glancing around the room to find its source yet it was empty.
"Dean? Dean, where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect." Jo quietly stepped into the chamber, proceeding to kneel next to Dean; the young man glanced at the girl with a small smile. "I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?" she furrowed her brows at him; Dean glanced at her, then back at the floor.
"Jo, when Bobby and Crowley brought me here to live, whenever I'd come down here alone to light a candle for my father, a voice from above and my dreams… he was always there. You see," he licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, "When my- my father lay dying he told me I'd be protected by an Angel-" he smiled as he stared at the floor yet looking distant, "An Angel of music." Jo stared at Dean with sad eyes as the man spoke.
"Dean? Do you believe?" he turned to her, "Do you think your father's ghost is coaching you?" he kept quiet for a moment, Jo placed her hand on top of his gently.
"Who else would it be?" Jo stared at the flame of the candle behind Dean wanting to answer yet having no valid response. "Father used to speak of an Angel, I used to dream he'd appear." he smiled gently, "Now as I sing I can sense him and I know he's here. Here in this room." he stood up glancing around the chamber, "He calls to me softly, somewhere inside hiding." Jo stood up glancing around the room as Dean did yet no one seemed to be there besides them and she felt no other presence. "Somehow I know he's always with me." Jo frowned slightly as the young man glanced around the room fascinated, "He the unseen genius."
"Dean, you must have been dreaming." she placed her hand on his shoulder pushing him towards the door; a small frown formed on his face as his feet carried him to the exit. "Stories like these can't come true." he turned his head to glance at the empty chamber one last time before turning to leave. "You are talking crazy and it's not like you."
"Angel of music." he repeated as they walked through the dark halls together.
"Dean, your hands are cold and your face is pale." she stopped her feet as she frowned in concern taking his hands into hers.
"He scares me sometimes." he glanced at the floor as the speed of his heart sped up.
"Hey, don't be scared." she pushed him gently to keep walking once again. A dark figure holding a bottle scotch and a smirk on his face stood above, listening to their conversation and he chuckled darkly as they disappeared into another room.
End of chapter one.