AN: Happy Christmas Eve! Sorry for the long chapter, but it wouldn't divide well. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think.

Stave Three:

The Second of the Three Spirits

Ding! Ding! Ding! Dong!

Fiyero jerked up at the bell. His own bed - two nights in a row! A night of rest and a half-bottle of whiskey had done their work, and he found himself quite remedied of the bitter melancholy the last ghost had wrought.

Sarima was gone. Long forgotten. Whatever this ghost sought to visit on him, he would forget as well. They'd miscalculated, already pressing his most disastrous affair on the first night. It could only get easier.

The bell rang again, the quarter hour.

He rose and splashed water over his face. "Time for another ghost." Considerate, this one was, to let him wake up a bit first. He dressed.

A beam of light on the clock reflected half past. Well, he wasn't known for his punctuality, either.

Three quarters came, but no ghost.

Then the hour of two. His good humor sullied. Was this ghost invisible?

"Spirit?" he chanced, but no response.

Having been visited by two ghosts already, he found it oddly disturbing not to meet the third.

Had he missed it? Should he go back to sleep and content himself with becoming a miserable ghost someday? Or marry Galinda and hope that would work? The Spirit last night hadn't been very convinced of his plan.

He moped in the dark, lit only by that crack of light from the hallway. Wait, light? The hallways should be dark at this hour. He clapped a hand to his head. Brainless fool.

He peeked past the door, and sure enough, a large, jolly man lounged against the bench at the end of the hall.

The dorm was unrecognizable under all the decorations. Mistletoe, holly and ivy spotted the garlands carpeting every surface such that it might be a fairy forest. Wreaths hung with sparkling ornaments that glittered in the firelight. One such wreath adorned the man's head like an angel's halo, crowning a spill of curls that would make even Galinda jealous.

The ghost laughed, and it resounded down the hall like a cannon shot.

"Come, boy. You look like you've seen a ghost."

Fiyero's forehead scrunched together, and earned another joyous boom.

"I am the Ghost of Lurlinemas Present. You have never seen the like of me before!"

An arrogant statement, but a true one. His wide, handsome face wore a broad smile that commanded one in return. The man exuded joy, and compelled it in return.

"Or would you prefer my girls?"

How did no doors fly open at the echoing voice? But any worries of interruption short-circuited from his brain as a half-dozen beautiful women emerged from behind the ghost. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, all stunning and all barely dressed.

"Holly, his slippers." Her name fitted well with the plant strategically draped around her. She and a blonde knelt before him. With gentle caresses, they slid on his shoes. "Thank you, Charity. Are they not a sight to behold?"

That they were.

The girls surrounded him, fingers disheveling his clothes as much as straightening them. They must've felt half-frozen, but their skin was warm where it 'accidentally' pressed him. Flustered, he ignored their ministrations. Until one of the girls brushed a little too close to his, ahem, Lurlinemas tree, and he jerked away. "Lead on, Spirit. No doubt we've much to see, and little time to see it in."

"Just so," the ghost rose to his feet. "A surprisingly willing attitude. Refreshing. Though a bit of persuasion can be enjoyable as well." He winked, and Fiyero pulled his cloak tighter.

"The sooner we start, the sooner it's ended."

"So eager?" The ghost smirked. "Very well. Touch my robe."

Fiyero did as he was told, and held it fast.

The inertia of the train rocked him, and he had to grip the ghost's arm to keep his feet. Elphaba looked up from her book, but back down almost as fast.

Elphaba? She was on a train? Oh, headed home for the holidays, no doubt.

"A pretty one. Perhaps I should recruit her." The Spirit's eyes ran over her appreciatively, and Fiyero shifted slightly to stand between. "She would follow my color scheme well. Imagine her draped in nothing but ivy and mistletoe."

He could, far too well.

The door slid open, and Galinda bounded into the seat opposite. The Spirit grinned, and Fiyero wanted to deck the man. The licentious creep. These were his friends. Only he could objectify them.

"You're sure you want to visit home?" She fussed with her skirts. "I know you miss your sister, but I hate to think of the rest of your break, so bleak and miserable."

"I've not much choice. I come voluntarily, or when the bills stop getting paid."

She tutted and nudged Elphaba's book. "Be serious. Will you be alright?"

"Of course, my pretty. You know me."

"Hence the question."

Elphaba set the book beside her. "He's nothing like that. A little preaching will be the worst of it. And you? However did your parents celebrate Lurlinemas without their star?"

"They didn't." She waved a hand. "We'll celebrate it tonight."

"Then who gave you that sparkly bracelet? I thought Fiyero gave you perfume." He had. The ultimate gift for girlfriend or grandma, he prided himself on its universality.

"This?" She held up her arm, barely holding back a grin. "Oh, Biq, I think."

Elphaba shot her a look. "You know his name. I know you do." Red tinted her friend's cheeks. "I told you he likes you."

"Well, of course he admirates me. Many of the boys do."

Another look. "You might fool your shallow little circle of hens, but you can't cluck me into confusion." Galinda found the countryside suddenly interesting. "You can be friends with a boy, you know."

"Like you and Fiyero?"

He leaned forward to hear her answer. Not that he cared, really, just idle curiosity. She nodded. He watched her face carefully, but she kept it so perfectly neutral. "Though perhaps with less eye rolling."

"You don't think Dearest would mind?"

Elphaba picked up her book. "What's in that boy's head, if anything, is a mystery to me." He huffed a laugh. He should be so lucky. "But no, I don't imagine he'd mind."

Galinda's face lit up, and she fingered the bracelet. "Oh, then I suppose it would only be goodly of me to befriend Boq."

"Quite." Conversation lagged as her roommate returned to her book. Galinda slipped a package from her bag and stared at the wrapping a beat. She moved to sit beside her friend.

The girl looked up, and Galinda half-shoved the bundle of ribbons at her. He didn't understand their sudden tension, or the babbled, "I know my last present was a disaster, and so I've hesitated with another."

"I don't think-"

"But you're my bestest friend," she continued firmly. "You're getting a gift for Lurlinemas. No discussion."

Elphaba's expression softened. "But I haven't anything for you."

"You have." Galinda squeezed her hand. "Trust me, you have."

Her roommate turned the package over in her hands. "Let me guess: pink and glittery?"

She stuck out her tongue.

"Open it." The girl did, and he expected clothing, or makeup, or maybe a book. Not a cheap touristy snow globe and map for the Emerald City. And he certainly didn't expect the emotion in Elphaba's eyes. "For when you get there."

The girls hugged tightly, and she pulled back to stare at it. "You think I will?"

"I know so." They clasped hands, radiating with such affection it stung him for his intrusion. "Do you like it, really?"

Elphaba tipped the globe, whose snow was even green. "I love it. Thank you."

"Good." She sagged back against the bench. "I worked really hard on it. I wanted your first Lurlinemas present to be perfect."

He frowned. "But surely she's had others."

The spirit didn't reply.

"I noticed. Nothing at all pink. No one will believe it's from you."

"About that." She gave a sheepish grin. "A first present definitely deserves a companion."

"No, she must mean the first from her." The spirit held out his arm, and Fiyero took it. The mist swirled round them. "Surely her family celebrates Lurlinemas. Isn't her father a minister?"

"Does it matter? Unless you mean her first present to give." The suggestive wink disgusted him, and he yanked back. He lost his grip. With a manly squeak, he clutched at the sleeve. Who knows that would happen to him if he were separated in this odd mist? "Alright, boy? Have I offended?"

"Yes, in fact. You needn't ogle every woman in sight."

"She isn't worth ogling? Or do you mean her coloring makes her unworthy?"

"No, of course not. She's very oglable." He swallowed. "I just mean, it would bother her. It's disrespectful."

"But only because it bothers her."

Fiyero nodded, though something troubled him about it still.

The ghost clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! So long as she never knows, she'll never be bothered, and I'll remain free to ogle. Shall we?"

"No! That's not right."

"Oh, yes, this is precisely the right place."

Fiyero suspected it deliberate misunderstanding, but as the discussion had quite unnerved him, he played along. They found themselves in a sparsely decorated home. Boq's girlfriend, Nessa or something, wheeled around lighting small candles.

"Why are we here?" He'd barely spoken to the girl, maybe a handful of times. She hadn't been in his bed, of that he was certain. Was this another chance for the spirit to ogle the unogled and spread Lurlinemas leer?

A tall, forbidding man strode in, and Fiyero automatically backed up. The stern frown, grey hair, and somber dress completed an austere manner that reeked of authority. A hard man. One not to be taunted. To be sidestepped, certainly, but not outright defied.

The man saw Boq's girlfriend, and his frown relaxed into an obviously fond expression. "Prayers for the day, my dear?"

"Yes, Father. And for Fabala."

"You are a credit to your gender." He sat in a wicker rocking chair by a lamp, and she wheeled beside him. With a twinkle in his eye, he reached down, and produced a package from under his book.

"Oh, Papa!" She clapped her hands together. "We should wait for Fabala, though, to open presents."

"Nonsense. It won't be her birthday."

She pressed her lips together. "It's not my birthday for a month." He quirked a smile. "Alright, fine. But no more without her."

"It's your birthday, dear, however you'd wish."

She rolled her eyes, and Fiyero leaned closer, her familiarity bothering him. Had he spent more time with them than he remembered? Boq wasn't a close friend, and his girlfriend even less so.

"Oh, they're lovely!" She played with the simple earrings, letting them catch the light. "I would put them on but," she touched a hand to her ears, "dearest Boq gave me these."

"Already fending off gentleman callers?" He patted her arm, but then his face grew cold. "So long as-"

"Yes, Father, I know. We are chaste, of course, out of respect for the Unnamed God and you."

"And yourself."

She absorbed the sudden harshness with a correspondingly soothing tone. "Naturally."

Satisfied, he nodded. "Then you are to be commended, and this gentleman of yours as well. He must be well-intentioned to bestow such a charming gift."

Her face lit up. "I think so as well, though he's yet to say specifically."

Fiyero turned to the spirit. "I see. So Boq is the good boyfriend, and I the poor one? Well, perhaps you shouldn't have shown me his gift to Galinda. I've no eye for jewelry, but anyone can see the difference."

"Oh?" The ghost seemed very smug for someone just proven wrong. "Isn't that interesting?"

"Fabala!"

Nessa's joy at the door opening disrupted his answer, and he turned to see a familiar face by the door.

"Elphaba? What is she doing here?" Though as he thought of it, she did mention a sister. Perhaps that's the familiarity that had bothered him.

She stepped in, unwrapping a bright pink scarf to hang it by the door. Neither snowglobe nor map were apparent, but she held her bag with more care than usual.

"What is that atrocity?" The man grumbled from his seat. "Such bright colors scream of vanity."

She gave a sarcastic glance down at herself. "Hasn't caused any yet. Or do you think me a stranger to strong colors?"

He glared, but Nessa intervened. "Papa, please. She's barely in the door." She turned to Elphaba. "Is that from Galinda?"

"How'd you guess?"

They smirked, but her father rocked to his feet. "A Lurlinemas present?"

With a heavy sigh, she turned to face him. "Because I control what presents are given to me."

"You could have refused. It would offer a perfect introduction to discuss our faith. Does she know you're Unionist at all?"

Nessa caught her hand, trying to reign her in, but she barreled on. "She doesn't, because I'm not. When will you accept that?"

"When will you repent these willful rebellions?"

She crossed her arms. "Not today." She cast an eye about the room. "And not so long as you're hypocritical enough to suggest you don't celebrate Lurlinemas."

"How dare you. We don't."

"Yes, except for the decorations, and the presents, and-"

"Those presents are for your sister's birthday, and you know it."

She huffed a laugh free of mirth. "That's a handy excuse to avoid getting me one, but you needn't bother. I don't want your presents any more than your religion."

"Get out!"

She reclaimed her scarf without complaint, but Nessa's cry caused them both to hesitate. Near tears, she pleaded with them both, "Can't you get along for one day? For me?"

Her father shifted back, clearly melting at the girl's distress, but it was Elphaba who caved first. "Of course, my pretty. I'm sorry."

Their father gave a small nod. "Accepted."

Her flicker of annoyance passed in a breath. The apology had been for her sister. Even Fiyero saw that. But she chose silence.

The man made an excuse about dinner, and left the two sisters alone. Elphaba's shoulders deflated. "I am sorry. I shouldn't rise to the bait. I don't know why I bothered with the trip."

Nessa took her hand. "Because you love me."

The fond expression warmed her handsome face into captivating beauty. "That I do, precious, that I do."

"Please don't fight with Papa. It's only a few days."

She sighed heavily. "I'll try to mind my tongue, for your sake, but you know I've no talent there."

"Perhaps she'd like some tutoring. I'd mind her tongue quite nicely, I think," the ghost supplied, and Fiyero spun on him.

"For Oz's sake, have you no decency? She's not a piece of meat. She's a person. Look at what she's been through! As if the prejudice for her skin wasn't enough. How could you demean her further?"

"Is it demeaning? I thought it complimentary."

He narrowed his eyes. "You didn't. A compliment isn't so…debasing."

"Oh, it's a jest. Lighten up."

"That doesn't excuse it."

The spirit didn't respond. Slowly, it dawned on him that he'd been manipulated. He crossed his arms. "Yes, alright, I see. I've been a resounding ass. I won't treat women so callously again. Can we go back?"

"One more stop."

Much as he despised it, he took the ghost's arm. The mist swirled on the pitiful scene, and he found himself in a dark room, alone again. Or so it seemed.

Softly, he could hear a girl crying. A cold chill amplified an aura of misery, and he sent a silent prayer that he wouldn't find Elphaba here again. This heartbreaking sound from her might completely undo him.

He edged toward the girl, folded in shadows. He couldn't see her face. It didn't seem like Elphaba, but he couldn't be sure. Not with this ghost's fixation on her.

A broken sob shuddered silently through the girl, and he set a hand on her shoulder that didn't connect. So alone. How he wished he could comfort her.

"What's the matter?" he whispered, though she couldn't hear.

The spirit circled to her other side. "Do you know her?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Then what do you care?"

He knelt beside her. "Because I do." His hand hovered by her, his own eyes pricking with sympathy. "Is there nothing we can do for her?"

She shifted toward him, as if she felt his presence somehow, and he hoped it gave her some comfort.

The clouds beyond shifted, and dull moonlight diffused through the window. The girl from yesterday, or whichever. The bed he'd woken up in last that wasn't his. Or Elphaba's. Or Galinda's. Oz, he woke up in too many beds.

She eyed the moon. "Should I tell him?" she whispered.

He froze. Did she mean him? What would she tell him that would cause her this much misery?

Her hand fell to her stomach, and she drew a shuddering breath. "I suppose he deserves to know."

The blood drained from his face. He stepped back, a hand going involuntarily to drag through his hair. "Does she mean…is she…?"

"Pregnant?" The spirit moved beside him. "I believe so."

"With mine? How could it, but, it's only been a few days?"

"This time."

His eyebrows pulled down like they could hide him. What did that mean? No, they'd met in a bar. He didn't know her. But then, drunk as he'd been, would he have recognized her? Oz, he barely recognized her now.

"It can't be."

"Ah, the winds of change," the ghost said, taking his arm. "Ever a surprise despite their forecast."

The mist swirled around him, and he turned back. "Wait, we can't leave now. I don't know her plans, anything about her. How do I find her?"

"That is beyond my realm, boy. The questions you seek are not of the Present, but of the Future. You shall have to wait for my brethren to answer those."

The spirit returned him to his bedroom.

Despite every reason to, he didn't touch a drop of alcohol. A father? He wasn't even an adult yet himself. How could he raise a child? Was this the marriage Avaric had been pushing him toward?

His future was slipping through his fingers.

The curtains hung dark around him. He didn't sleep this time. Didn't pass the day in a haze or drunken stupor. No, he sat, in his darkened room, with his darkened thoughts, and for once, really considered the impact of his life.

It was bleak indeed.

When the bell struck twelve, he stood. "I'm ready, Spirit. Show me the Future."