Giles nervously tuned his guitar as Oz and the girls fiddled around with amps and their own instruments. He ran through the lyrics to the songs they were going to play, and hoped to every sort of god that he would be able to remember them all. He had to admit that rehearsal had gone rather well; at least, he and Oz hadn't made total idiots of themselves.
"Hey. You're not going to faint on us, are you?" came Laura's startlingly close voice. Giles turned around and gave her a weak half-smile.
"Not as such, no. I was thinking more along the lines of…projectile vomiting," Giles muttered, his hands compulsively going through the chords on the guitar. He and Laura both watched the involuntary action of his fingers flying over the fretboard for a moment before Laura pulled a stool over beside him and sat down.
"You'll be fabulous. And besides, I said I'd take care of you, remember? Stop worrying," she said.
"Yes. Yes, you're right. I certainly won't worry any more," Giles said completely unconvincingly. Laura laughed and pulled his hand away from the fretboard.
"Hey. You're cool. You're a kickass Watcher and all the girls in the audience are going to have mad crushes on you. Probably some of the boys, too," she grinned as she stood up. Giles smiled.
"Shouldn't you girls go and change? It's almost time for the show," he said. Laura glanced at her watch and nodded. "I want to see this surprise costume of yours," he said, smiling at her.
"Bet so. You'll love it, G. You'll absolutely die," she smirked as she went and collected Gina and Lisa (who were both having far too much fun flirting with Oz).
***
Buffy and Willow evaluated their present situation silently. Around them, the room was completely quiet, except for the requisite drip-dripping of some unknown leak in the building. Buffy's mind inadvertently began to wander and she began to try to count how many times she had been in warehouses like this.
Tears coursed down Willow's face as she thought about all the horrendous possibilities of how those girls could torture Oz.
"Of all the times Xander could develop a spine…it's like Pinocchio suddenly turning into a real boy when he's two feet from a lion pride in the Serengeti," Buffy remarked sardonically. Willow gulped.
"What do you think made him act like that?"
"I don't know. An acute attack of Xanderness?"
Willow frowned slightly, her mind puzzling over the options. "Well, there was that light and music when his ropes disappeared. Maybe it had something to do with that?"
"So a heavenly light and choir of angels led Xander to abandon us in a warehouse? Atheism, here I come," Buffy groused.
Willow's bottom lip trembled. "How are we going to get out of here, Buffy?"
"Well, I think we can safely rule out asking the girls nicely if they'll let us go. Hopefully Angel will realize something's up when I don't show up for Patrol."
"…Buffy?"
"What?"
"You don't think they'll hurt Oz, do you?"
***
"Oz! I swear I'm gonna kill you!" Lisa shrieked at the top of her lungs. A few heads poked around the curtains backstage and Lisa scowled. "He's holed himself up in the dressing room for twenty minutes now and I still need to change!" she explained to the concerned faces.
A muffled voice came from inside the room. "You can't rush perfection, hon."
Lisa growled and began to pound on the door. "Watch me try!" she shouted. Laura, Gina and Giles came over to the dressing room entrance to watch the show. "Hurry up!"
Mid-bang, the door suddenly swung open and Lisa fell inside the dressing room. The others snorted behind their hands as Lisa struggled onto her elbows and glared up at Oz, who was giving her a quizzical look.
"All yours, Your Grace," he said. Lisa righted herself and glared at him a bit more, then glanced at his outfit.
"Oh my holy…what are you wearing?"
Behind them, Gina, Laura and Giles gaped at Oz, who was wearing a plain button-up white shirt, his favorite worn-out shoes, and a kilt.
"What? I think it's cool," Oz said. "And look," he said, beginning to unbutton his shirt, at which point Giles hastily turned away, "I even incorporated sequins." Laura and Gina both began to giggle and applaud as Oz proudly displayed the pink My Little Pony shirt he had made such a fuss over at the store. Lisa rolled her eyes and closed the door to the dressing room.
"Well, I think it's sexy. Takes a real man to wear a skirt," Gina smirked a few moments after. Giles glanced at her sharply. Oz grinned.
"Better go find an old dress, Giles, and prove you're a man," he said.
"No, thank you. The extent of my masculinity is such that it would take a ballgown to fully prove it," Giles said coolly. Laura began to snicker as both Gina and Oz looked at the Watcher with blank faces.
"I'm pretty sure he just insulted me."
"Yeah."
"I can't figure out how, though."
"Me neither."
At this convenient moment, Lisa opened the door to the dressing room and stepped out. Oz whistled appreciatively at her costume, which consisted of a pair of leather pants (Giles felt a bit outshined), a plain white tank top, sandals, and an intricate arm-band. Laura and Gina nodded their approval.
"You look very nice," Giles said after a moment. Lisa thanked him casually; she was used to the compliment.
"Your turn, Gina," Laura said, shoving her into the dressing room. "And hurry, I still have to get dressed too."
"Why do you always get to go last? It's not fair! I want to make an entrance too--" Gina began, but the sudden slam of the dressing room door cut her off. Laura smiled brightly at the other members of the band.
"Shall we go over the words to the first number?"
***
"Need some ID, man," the pimply-faced club employee said sourly. Angel gave him an annoyed glance and produced a driver's license (fake, of course). The young man made a show of examining the card for authenticity before handing it back to its owner.
"Do I meet your standards, then?" Angel asked sarcastically as he yanked his ID out of the boy's grubby hand.
"No, but you meet the club's," the young boy said coolly. Angel's eyes narrowed into slits as he grabbed the boy's collar.
"You shouldn't insult strangers, child. You need lessons in etiquette. Fortunately for you, I don't have time to give you any," Angel growled, and released the boy as he stepped inside the club.
He walked over to his usual table, ignoring the nods of acknowledgement from club regulars and slouching into his seat, massaging his forehead as if by doing so he could lessen the pain inside. He felt a waitress waltz up behind him and before she could say anything, he said "I'd like a Bloody Mary."
"Oh, bet you would, Angelus," a frighteningly familiar British voice sounded behind him. Angel's eyes snapped open and he whirled around in time to see a platinum head vanish out the doors of the club. Angel stood suddenly and walked briskly toward the entrance and outside.
He stood in the cool night air, his eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to locate the same figure. He walked around the front of the club and found nothing, then ventured to the alleys on either side. He could hear, inside the club, the cheers and applause as the owner came onstage to introduce the night's act.
***
"Christ, Laura, hurry! They're introducing us right now!" Lisa hissed to the dressing room door.
"Oh, stop worrying. I'm almost ready."
"Why do you always do this? Why can't we ever just be safe and sure of anything and not have to wait until the last second to pull something off?"
"Because that would be boring, dearie," Laura's muffled voice came from inside the dressing room. Lisa sighed in exasperation as Giles came hurrying over to the dressing room door.
"Er, Laura, dear, the introduction's almost through and the crowd does sound a bit wild," he said nervously.
"Sooner or later, your luck's going to run out!" Lisa cried angrily at the door, just as it swung open and Laura stepped out.
"Don't be silly. See? Right on time," Laura said, striking a pose. Giles's eyes widened as he realized what her surprise was--Laura was wearing a tweed skirt and jacket, complete with conservative white shirt, sensible black shoes, and a pair of glasses exactly like the ones Giles wore. She snickered and pulled her glasses off and bit the end of one stem. "You like?"
Giles began to laugh. "Very impressive. Now let's go." Laura grinned and curtsied and they both rushed to the stage. Lisa stared at them, dumbfounded, and began to trot after them.
"Why won't anyone listen to me when I say that?"
***
Angel walked down an alley, his eyes roaming from one side of the darkened street to the other as he attempted to find…whatever it was he was looking for. He sighed, and, for a moment, stopped his search. It was then that he heard the familiar sound of an old engine revving. His eyes widened, and he took off suddenly toward the main street, following his ears.
As soon as he reached the street, he saw it. He saw the familiar old car, with its darkened windows and imposing angles of chrome and steel. Angel snarled as he rushed over to the driver-side window and began to pound on it.
"Spike! Spike, you better damn well roll down this window or I'll--"
"You'll what? Yell a whole lot more at my car? Oooooh, shiver," a voice drawled from the driver's seat through the inch-gap crack in the window.
"What are you doing in Sunnydale? Have you done anything to Buffy?" Angel demanded.
"Yeah, right, like I'd tell you, Soul-Man," Spike snorted. "You insult my intelligence."
Angel growled and shoved a hand through the plate-glass window, grabbing Spike's collar.
"Hey! That isn't easy to replace, you know!" Spike complained as he glanced at the splintered glass all around him.
"Neither is a decapitated head," Angel snarled, throttling Spike slightly.
"All right, all right. Don't get your knickers in a twist. I've only been here for a day. Came to get some...things...from the crypt. And that's all. Haven't even seen your precious little blondie," Spike said boredly. A smile began to play on his lips. "How's she doing, by the way? Still keeping you frustrated? Especially in that little blue number she used to wear? Tell her I asked after her health. And was fearfully disappointed to hear she still had some," Spike said, glancing down at the car's speedometer.
Angel glared at the blonde man for a moment. "Never come back here," he spat. Spike rolled his eyes and shrugged out of Angel's grasp.
"Didn't plan on building a summer home here anyway. Nice catching up, Angelus, but I've got places to be," he said as he threw the car into gear and sped away. Angel watched the back bumper of the car grow smaller and smaller until it finally vanished onto a side street. He exhaled loudly and headed for the club. Perhaps Buffy had something better to do than meet with him for patrol…
Angel shot a death-glare at the doorman, who quickly jumped out of his way as he strolled back inside the club. He walked inside the room, maneuvering through clusters of people and keeping one eye on the stage. The concert had been underway for several minutes, he surmised from the excitement of the crowd. He watched with some interest as the stage remained pitch black. A spotlight suddenly focused on a girl standing behind a drum set. He finally made his way to his own table and sat down, surveying the blonde girl onstage carefully.
She seemed strangely familiar…he stared at her short leather skirt and thigh-high boots, hoping to find something conclusive in them. He wondered at her red corset bound white peasant blouse top, trying to conceive where (or when) he remembered this girl from.
Angel jumped slightly in his seat as the girl began to play her drums. He watched with interest as the girl kept a steady rhythm, the spotlight focused on her while the rest of stage was shrouded in darkness.
And then, suddenly, all was light.
Angel winced at the sudden brightness of the stage. He began to smile as he recognized the song the guitars were beginning to play, a fairly new song he had heard a few years before on the radio, a song that had, oddly, always reminded him of Drusilla and Spike. He closed his eyes as the voice of a girl began to keen above the thudding strum of the guitars.
I would die for you
I would die for you
I've been dying jut to feel you by my side…
To know that you're mine…
I would cry for you
I would cry for you
I would wash away your pain with all my tears…
And drown your fear…
Angel felt the movement of the crowd gathering around the stage, felt the strength of the spell being weaved by the music. He could feel the rhythm beating through him, feel his heart change tempo slightly to keep time with the music. He could feel the guitars, almost as if their players were plucking his nerve-endings, sensation flooding into every pore of his skin.
I will pray for you
I will pray for you
I will sell my soul for something pure and true…
Someone like you…
See your face every place that I'm walkin'
Hear your voice every time I'm talkin'
You will believe in me
And I will never be ignored.
I would die for you
Feel pain for you
I would twist the knife and bleed my achin' heart
And tear it apart…
Angel was suddenly reminded of Buffy. His heart wrenched inside him, wondering where she was, if she was having more fun than she would if she were with him.
I will lie for you
Beg and steal for you
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see
You're just like me…
Violate all the love that I'm missing
Throw away all the pain that I'm living
You will believe in me
And I can never be ignored.
I will die for you…
I will kill for you…
I will steal for you…
I'd do time for you…
I will wait for you…
And make room for you…
I'd sail ships for you…
To be close to you…
To be part of you…
Cause I believe in you…
I believe in you…
I would die for you…
Angel opened his eyes slowly as the haunting voice died away, as the guitar chords echoed in the atmosphere, as the crowd began to awaken from its spell. He stared at the members of the band onstage, he stared at the drummer girl, who now had her face raised to the sky, her eyes seeing something far, far away from the crowd. He stared at the vocalist, a red-haired girl who clung to the microphone for support, as if the notes had forcefully torn themselves from her vocal cords and left her powerless. He glanced at the two male guitar players and almost fell over when he realized he recognized them as Giles and Oz. He smiled slightly since both of the men had dazed expressions on their faces, as if they were a part of something they couldn't quite comprehend. And he stared at the female guitar player, a girl who had shrunk into the shadows almost until she couldn't be seen. He stared at her, until he was shocked to realize she was staring at him too. He and the girl stared at each other for a moment, unable to wrench their eyes away. Angel was intensely, almost painfully aware that he recognized the girl from somewhere…
…But where?
Realization dawned.
"Oh my God."
***
Lisa had to remind herself to breathe. He couldn't be sitting in the audience, her Angelus could not be sitting in the audience, casually sipping a Bloody Mary as he enjoyed the music.
She saw him stare at her. She saw the sudden shock of realization when it hit him. And she saw his countenance change from one of sublime happiness to a combination of fear and hatred. Lisa began to edge over to Gina at her drumset.
"Gina!" she hissed. Gina glanced at her and frowned, a little preoccupied with keeping a steady rhythm to the next song ("Basketcase", by Green Day).
"What do you want?" she managed to hiss back between beats.
"Angelus is here," Lisa said, trying to keep her stage smirk and hit her chords and inform Gina about their potential downfall and avoid more eye contact with Angel all at the same time.
"What?"
"I said sometimes I give myself the creeps." Lisa frowned as she ended the lyric along with Laura, who was blissfully unaware of her danger on center stage.
"You what?"
"I said Angelus is here!" she managed to get out. Gina's eyes widened in shock and Lisa nodded her head in Angel's direction. Gina glanced around the audience, and when she finally spied him, let out a little shriek of fear.
"What are we gonna do, Lisa?"
"I don't know. We've got to tell Laura."
"Why? Can't we just run out the backstage door?"
"Cut it out. He can't do anything to us while we're onstage."
"Oh. Right. Good thinking."
Lisa and Gina both smiled superficially as the song ended. Laura walked over to the drumset to grab a sip of water before the next song. She grinned at the other girls as Oz began to tell the crowd the longest joke known to man.
"Good show, huh?"
"Angelus is here."
"Yeah, the crowd is really--what?" Laura asked, going still as her mind processed Lisa's strange declaration.
"Angelus is here. In the audience."
"Shit! What's he doing here?"
"I don't know."
"Shit!"
"He knows all about us!" Gina interjected fearfully.
"Double shit!" Laura said bewilderedly. "What are we going to do?"
"Finish the show and get out of town," Lisa said. "He can't do anything to us up here."
"Well, I know, but…shit!"
Giles walked back over to their little conference. "This certainly seems to be going well, doesn't it?" Gina and Lisa avoided the question and his gaze, but Laura put on a smile.
"Yeah. Told you they'd love you, didn't I?" Giles smiled gratefully. Laura grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the other two girls. "Giles, do you feel okay about singing your song now?"
Giles looked at the other two girls confusedly. "But…I thought that was a few songs away…"
"Well, see, Lisa got one of her dizzy spells and isn't feeling well at all. I think we should cut the show a little short," Laura explained. "Please? Can you?"
Giles exhaled slowly and nodded. "Yes. You think this crowd will like it?"
"I do. Thank you for this, Giles."
"It's nothing, dear," he said comfortingly, patting her hand. He walked over to his microphone and waited for Oz to finish his joke. Laura assumed her place beside the drumset.
"Giles is going to do his song, and then we'll do the closing number, and then we'll split," she told Gina and Lisa.
"Sounds good. Angelus looks murderous," Lisa mused.
"Murderous is a good look for him," Gina said decidedly. Lisa shot her a glare.
"Um, hello, Angelus is my ex-lover. Don't horn in on my territory. Besides, you have El Bleacho Diablo."
"God, you guys, it's embarrassing how many ex-lovers you've managed to tally," Laura said absentmindedly, twirling her water bottle cap between her fingers.
"Us? What about you?" Lisa countered.
"Yes, let's tally, shall we?" Gina said. Laura began to blush.
"Well, there was Julius Caesar."
"Nero."
"Whom you taught to play the violin, if I remember correctly. Um…Charlemagne."
"Strictly because his name sounded like 'champagne', even though that wasn't invented until centuries later…Aha! Jeff Chaucer!"
"And then there was Will Shakespeare."
"That was just a rumor," Laura interjected. "Will started it. Ugh. He was all…short."
"Okay. Sir Walter Raleigh."
"Elizabeth never forgave you, you know."
"Michelangelo."
"Then there was John Locke."
"That man was wild," Laura remembered.
"Benedict Arnold."
"Pancho Villa."
"General Sherman."
"Savannah deserved it. Stupid mob."
"Jack the Ripper."
"Everyone should've recognized the creative elements."
"Mussolini."
"McCarthy."
"Stalin."
"Nixon."
"Elvis."
"That screenwriter."
"Joss," Laura reminded Lisa. "His name is Joss. And that was more a creative element thing than anything romantic. And feel free to shut up."
"All right, all right. We're done. We've got more important things to worry about than teasing you, anyway," Gina said, just as the crowd began to applaud. Oz had finally finished his joke. Lisa went over and quickly explained to him the change in the lineup. Oz nodded, his facial features arranging themselves into a concerned expression, and he walked over to join the girls beside the drumset.
The four band members fell silent as Giles approached his microphone, as did the audience, which had indeed fallen in love with the quiet man. He cleared his throat.
"Erm…hello, all," he said hesitantly into the microphone. The crowd shouted back, cheering and applauding. Giles stood amazed for a moment before he regained his composure. "Yes, well. I'd…like to sing a song, if I could. For a long while it illustrated my opinion of life. And of love. But our opinions are all subject to change, and I think mine are beginning to." He glanced at several members of the crowd; each wore a confused expression. "Anyway…my gift is my song." And he began to sing.
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
Gina smiled slightly from the darkened drumset, closing her eyes as she allowed Giles's voice to spread over her like a comforting blanket. Beside her, Lisa became very still and stopped fidgeting with the hem of her tank top, listening intently to the lyrics of the song. Laura stared at the floor, biting a thumbnail absentmindedly. From the three came a single thought, I don't want to leave now, oh please, don't make me go…
Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah
Giles voice crescendoed, soaring above the audience, evoking the intense pain and beauty of the song's lyrics. From Lisa's side, Oz listened to the older man appreciatively and tried to comprehend how exactly Giles managed to hold the audience captive.
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah .... .
Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ....
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you?
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah?
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah…
The ironic sadness of the refrain caused Giles's voice to waver slightly. Shrouded in darkness, a girl near the drumset wiped away a rebel tear before anyone else noticed.
Well, maybe there's a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.
It's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ...
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ...
Giles's voice died away slowly, its beautiful melancholy lingering in the air with the last guitar chord. He glanced hesitantly out at the audience, the only sound in the room the audible sniffs and occasional whimpers from members of the crowd. Giles smiled slightly, the silence more of a compliment than anything else the audience could have given him.
Laura, Gina and Oz all jumped slightly as they heard an almost inaudible sniff coming from Lisa. They looked at her curiously and grinned as she glared at them through overbright eyes.
"Oh, shut up and give me a tissue," she said irritably. It was then that the audience began to applaud.
***
No one saw the tall dark-haired man in the front row leave as Giles began his song. The members of the audience had already been caught in his spell.
All except for Angel.
They knew. They knew he knew. And he had to stop them.
***
In the alley directly behind the Bronze, a shadowed figure hummed pleasantly as it walked along the rows of neatly-parked cars. It stopped in front of one, and, checking to see if it was under surveillance, began to inspect the car.
The figure opened the passenger door casually and examined the glove compartment opening. One deft flick of the wrist opened the small hatch. And as the figure rummaged through the contents of the compartment, it came upon a hardbound book, forced open to one page. In a man's voice, the figure muttered to itself, "What's this?"
He produced a small flashlight from inside a coat pocket and began to read the opened page. It was very slow going; he had always hated Homer. A moment or two passed, and then a footnote caught his eye. The figure skimmed the lines. He very nearly dropped his flashlight. And then he read the lines more carefully.
"So that's it," he said. He put his flashlight away, and carefully placed the book back in the glove compartment and shut it. He exited the car.
***
(From Hannigan's translation of Homer's The Odyssey)
a Siren: One of three sea nymphs, -- or, according to some writers, of two, -- said to frequent an island near the coast of Italy, and to sing with such sweetness that they lured mariners to destruction.