Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's Brittany again, and I would like to thank all the reviewers for your wonderful feedback on chapter three! Thanks to the Mouse under the Opera House, Masked Painter, Lady Drachir, Dragonflame-05 and, again, Jessica Goldberg for your great reviews! Steph and I really appreciate all the great things you all had to say!

This chapter will be based off of Sleeping Beauty. It's generally taking from the song she sings about seeing and loving her prince in a dream, without ever really knowing him...

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream..."

Yeah, you get it. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: We don't own Erik or Sleeping Beauty! If only we did...sigh

Christine felt warm and happy in the soft, comfortable bed she laid in. She was just coming out of one of the best dreams she had ever had in her entire life, about a dark prince who sang to her as she followed him through shadowed corridors. The dream felt real, like she knew the man who was singing to her. His voice was strangely familiar...

Christine sighed and batted her eyes open. She stretched lazily, but as she began to rise, she became dizzy and her hand went straight to her head where she found that it was bandaged on the right side. She stayed still to try and regain her composure, and looked around the room she was in.

"Where am I?" she thought aloud to herself.

She was laying in a huge canopy bed with red velvet blankets. All of the furniture was dark woods with gold embroidery. Everything was lush and rich, except there wasn't something quite right. There were no windows! And the walls were those of a cave, rugged rock, dark and damp.

How did I get here, wherever here is. What was I doing last? Running. Yes, running through the opera cellars. Was this room in the cellars? And if it was, who put this down here? She started to look more closely at the jewelry boxes and candle operas in the room. They were props! Props from Faust, Il Muto, Hannibal, Pirates of Panzants...who had taken these?

Christine walked around the room bewildered. Who was living under the Opera House and why were they taking props from past shows? The poor prop master must be going crazy! The thought of it made her giggle slightly as she ran her hand over the gold splendor of one of the tall candle operas.

She made her way to the double wood doors built into the harsh texture of the cavern wall. Christine opened the door and stepped into a cold cave-like room and looked around. The ceilings were high and the room was dimly lit.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Christine asked, but she wasn't surprised when there was no reply.

She sighed aloud and, for some reason, she wasn't afraid. Obviously whomever took her down here was nice enough to bandage her up and give her a room to stay. She would have to find the person and thank them. She went back into her room, took a candlestick and started down one of the dark and damp hallways.

She was walking and walking until finally she reached a door. "That's odd," she said, as she went for the knob. The door opened and led her into another bedroom. The room was odd looking. It was beautiful like hers, no doubt, but it was strangely decorated. There was a huge silver swan bed in the center of the room with red satin blankets and sheer black curtains hanging around it. The room was covered with even more candle operas then hers, and also sheets of parchment were scattered across the ground. She picked up one of the papers and saw that it was music. She put it back on the floor where she found it and went out of the opening in the room that served as a door into the next room.

There was a sloping stone staircase that curved around the shore of an eerie green lake. She looked around and saw hundreds of candles, paintings, mirrors, and finally an organ. How strange the person who lives here must be!

Christine smiled and walked around the room, taking it all in. Everything from the grand organ to hundreds of red roses that consumed the entire room. She started to hum a small tune while letting her fingertips graze the velvety softness of the rose petals. She started to think back to the dream she had early that night. The one about the dark and brooding prince with his magical voice, a voice of an angel. She smiled again to herself and began to sing without even thinking.

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Yes, I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream..."

She smiled and did a small turn, letting her skirts flow around her softly. She sighed and went back up the small staircase. Her eyes lingered over the organ for a moment.

Christine walked over to it and placed a single long, pale finger on a key and pressed down. The cavern room filled with the loud rambunctious music. Christine quickly took her finger off the key and the room was silent again, except for the sound of the underground lake lapping against the stony shore. She lifted her finger again to now try a different key.

"Don't," demanded a deep male voice that echoed throughout the lair.

Christine gasped and tumbled backward, falling down to the floor. "Who is there?"

"You know who I am," the voice answered.

"I do?" Christine asked. She was shocked, trying to place the frighteningly beautiful voice to face or a memory, but nothing was fitting.

"Yes, you do. Don't you remember?" he asked, a small hint of laughter in his voice. Christine heard the all to familiar sound of a whooshing cape. Her mouth fell open slightly as realization dawned on her. Her Angel of Music was here, and he was actually speaking to her!

"Yes, you know me, for I walked with you in a dream, is that correct?" His voice was moving, she could tell. The sound of him was drawing nearer to her and, for some reason, she wasn't afraid.

She cleared her throat and started to stand. "You...you're...you're my Angel of Music, aren't you?"

The voice didn't answer back. Christine stood and waited, unmoving for the voice to reply, but it didn't. Finally, after some time, she spoke up again.

"Angel?"

"Go back to your room," the voice said flatly, all the laughter was gone now. "And don't ever leave again without permission."

Christine nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. She let out a small whimper and ran back to the room she was laying in before. Upon reaching it, she threw herself unto the bed and began to sob. She heard the sickening click outside her door as he locked her inside the room.

Why is my angel being so cruel? Shouldn't he be loving and sweet like my father said he would be? What is going to happen to me?

Christine shuddered and a new wave of tears left her eyes and spilled into the rich velvet of the pillow.

Author's Note: I hope everyone enjoyed that! I didn't mean to, but it started to become more like Beauty and the Beast towards the end. Anyway, please read and review! Thank you!