Disclaimer: I don't own "The Phantom of the Opera", as in the song.

A/N: Wow, this story has gotten a way better response than I had anticipated. I was afraid it was going to suck, as most of this spinoffs tend to, but I guess not, huh? Thanks a lot!:-)

Angel or Ghost?

Rayne was looking directly at him, yet she didn't seem to see him. Eventually, she relaxed, slowly, and laid back down, equally slowly. She lay there for a while, until her eyes began to close of their own accord. She fought to keep them open, but she was too tired. When he was reasonably sure she was asleep, the figure crept back out to her and gazed down upon her once again. Before he knew what he was doing, he had reached out to touch her cheek. As soon as his cold fingers brushed her skin her eyes snapped open and she gasped in surprise and fright.

"Cernnonous! Asmodeus!" she gasped. The figure frowned and drew back.

"I sincerely hope you are not referring to me," he said rather coldly as she sat up, still staring at him.

"Not at all," she said, composing herself. "I'm just wondering where my dogs are."

"Dogs?" the figure repeated, noticing uneasily that there were indeed two German Shepherds quite close to him. Rayne smiled a little darkly.

"Don't worry. They won't attack unless they think I'm in danger," she said.

"How comforting," he muttered, watching the huge dogs. "Why did you call me 'Erik' before?"

"Why were you watching me while I slept?" Rayne retorted.

"It's rude to answer a question with a question."

"It's rude to stare at someone while they're sleeping!"

"Fair enough. But still, why did you call me that?"

"Because that's who I thought you were."

"Huh?"

"When I was ten I was really depressed. My family was at war with each other, as were my friends, my grades had gone right down the drain because my teacher was an incompetent imbecile, and I tried to kill myself. When no one was home, I stole into my parents' bathroom and took a bottle of iodine that my dad uses to gargle with when he has a sore throat, and I almost drank it. Just as I was raising it to my lips, someone grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I thought it was my dad, and I started crying. 'Dad' told me he wouldn't let go of me until I put the bottle down. I did, and spun around and starting crying into him. He held me close, comforting me as he led me back to my room and told me to lie down and go to sleep, and that everything would be OK. I believed him, and did what he said. My mom came in later to wake me up for dinner, and it was then that I realized something both frightening and wonderful. There had been no one home who could have stopped me from killing myself."

"Are you saying it was a…ghost or something?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm still not sure who or what it-he-was, or is, but ever since then I've seen him. At least, parts of him. Sometimes I'll see his hand near me, or something like that. And I've had dreams of him. So now I'm sure he's Erik."

"Erik as in the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Uh-huh. When I saw you hovering above me, I though it was him."

"I wasn't hovering!"

"Whatever. But why did I tell you this?" There was a long pause, during which the two appraised each other. The dark figure looked to be little older than Rayne herself, but it was hard to tell in the poor light.

"So, who are you?" they asked simultaneously. They looked at each other for a second, then burst out laughing.

"I think I should be asking that," said the figure.

"Oh really?" replied Rayne. "And why is that?"

"You're intruding in my domain."

"I didn't realize. My name's Rayne."

The boy held out his hand. "Erik." Rayne arched her eyebrows in interest as she shook his hand.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Weird coincidence, huh?"

"Cool." Another pause. Rayne rose, stepped out of the boat, and walked into a wide patch of moonlight coming in through one of the boarded windows. "Come into the light," she said. Erik hesitated. "Please? Look, I've shown myself to you, can't you show yourself to me?"

"You'd better remember what happened to Christine when she asked that of the Phantom," warned Erik.

"I am not Christine," replied Rayne. "But if you're more comfortable in the shadows, then that's fine. I'll stay here." Erik fidgeted for a moment, then sighed and walked towards her slowly. When she saw him, Rayne felt the same physical attraction to him that he had felt to her. He was tall and lean, with longish black angled around his whole head, short in the back and down just past his bottom lip in the front. He was rather pale, probably from lack of sun, and had adorable deep brown puppy-dog eyes. This confused Rayne, for Greg's brother had said that the "Ghost" had had grey eyes like hers, but she ignored that, admiring his clothes. He wore a loose white poet shirt, black pants, his cloak, and a white half-mask like the ones in the musical. Rayne thought at first this was just for show, but something inside told her this wasn't true. in the meantime, she was trying not to stare at him while not looking like she didn't like looking at him at the same time. Needless to say, this was difficult. It became easier when she noticed he was doing the same. They smiled at each other.

"Is that your mask?" she asked by and by.

"No. It's a prop from the musical," replied Erik. "I'm just 'borrowing' it."

"I see," said Rayne. "So you're the 'Phantom of the Majestic' then."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't like people disturbing me. I live below here. I didn't have to become a 'Phantom' until the kids of the neighborhood started coming in here looking for a Phantom. I just want to be left alone."

"Then I'm sorry I bothered you."

"No, not at all! I've just never thought that one of the kids would come in here at night. I thought I had scared them all away."

"I'm sure they'd like for you to think so. The fact is, the older kids think their younger siblings only see you because they expect to. No one believes in you." For reasons unknown to her, Erik burst out laughing. "What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing, nothing, it's just so funny!" he chortled. "I spent my whole life thinking no one knew I existed, and now they don't!" A smile tugged at the corner of Rayne's mouth.

"Well I suppose in that case it would be viewed as amusing," she said, managing to keep a straight face for a moment, then she was laughing with him. When their mirth subsided, she ventured to ask, "So, what are you doing in here anyway?"

"I told you, I live here," Erik replied.

"You're a runaway?"

"You could say that." Neither spoke for a time. Rayne could see that Erik didn't want to talk about himself, but she couldn't help asking:

"So, how long have you been living here? Don't you think your parents are worried about you?"

"And what's it to you!" he demanded angrily. "My God, it's a free country, isn't it? I can be here if I want! I should've known you'd start prying; they all do! You're no different!" He turned to storm off, but she stopped him with four simple words:

"You don't know me."

He stopped. Her voice was cold and low, the words reverberated around the empty theatre, ringing in his head. He didn't turn to her, though.

"You don't know me either," he said simply, and vanished back into the shadows.

"Erik, wait," Rayne said gently, but he didn't respond. She stood gazing after him for a time. Nothing. She sighed.

"In sleep he sang to me," she sang tentatively, hoping to get him to respond this way, "in dreams he came." She waited a moment, but he didn't reappear.

"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!"

Silence. Stillness. Shadows. But nothing more. She sighed sadly, tears inexplicably stinging her eyes as she turned away

"Sing once again with me! Our strange duet,

My power over you grows stronger yet!"

Rayne turned hopefully to see Erik emerging from the shadows again, singing in an exceptionally pleasant voice. He smiled at her forgivingly and continued:

"And though you turn from me to glance behind

The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind!"

Rayne sang on, and their voices clashed and blended into one as they continued their song. Rayne impressed Erik by hitting all the high notes at the end of the song, though her voice broke on the very last and highest note. They just stood looking at each other for a moment.

"You sing beautifully," Erik said by and by, "but you're not supporting enough. Your voice is very breathy."

"And what are you, the Angel of Music?" teased Rayne, smiling to let him know she wasn't making fun of him. "I'm sorry for asking questions that made you uncomfortable before, but I didn't know they would."

"And I'm sorry for losing it," Erik replied. Rayne smiled again, and then covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. "Yes, it's late, isn't it. If you'd like, you can come down with me, I almost guarantee I can offer a more comfortable place to sleep than a boat." Rayne laughed.

"I'd be delighted," she said. Smiling Erik offered his arm. Rayne linked it with hers, and he led her away.