Part 9

One by one the Scoobies, current and former, trooped into Caritas, with Angel leading the way and Cordelia bringing up the rear as guard and chief enforcer. Feet were dragging and heads hung low, bowed with the weight of note upon relentless note. Lorne hadn't seen such a pathetic display of humanity since "Big Brother" went off the air.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Cordelia scowled at him as she threw her purse on the bar. "Hey, you try hanging with eight cranky Osmond-nots for two hours in an enclosed car...no, an enclosed van, for god's sake...and see how good you look."

The Host smiled pityingly at her as he slipped behind the bar and began filling glasses with club soda. "Actually sweetie, I was referring to your musically challenged companions. You look divine; they look devoured."

Slightly mollified, Cordelia fluffed her hair and graciously accepted the proffered glass.

"They do look like they just kicked off the island; I'll give you that one. But save a little pity for me, please. My mission of mercy was pretty unmerciful." She frowned. "Did that come out the way I meant it to? Because I really did suffer. Honest."

"I believe you, doll." He carried the tray of drinks over to the nearest table, motioning for the crowd standing in the doorway to join him. "Come. Sit. Talk. I've closed the club for our little private party so we can really get to know each other."

Angel remembered his manners, and began the introductions as the Scoobies shuffled over to the table.

"Lorne, this is Buffy, Willow, Tara, Anya, Giles and Xander. Everyone, this is Lorne, the owner of Caritas."

"Actually, I prefer to be known as the Host." Lorne nodded to each of his guests in turn, taking coats as they shed them. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Buffy looked blearily into the red eyes of the strange green demon. His fashion sense was a little louder than her troubled mind could handle comfortably, but his voice sounded kind and cheerful. Moreover, Angel trusted him enough to come here without question...and Angel questioned everything.

"You're Lorne?" she asked doubtfully, holding out her hand. Lorne chucked the pile of coats on a nearby table and took her hand in both of his, beaming with delight.

"I am indeed, my sweet. And though your pretty face isn't familiar, I do seem to know that soul." He leaned forward; peering into her startled hazel eyes, then switched his gaze to Angel.

"Mmm, just as I thought," he murmured. "Angel-cakes, after this is all over...we need to talk."

"I thought...thought we were just supposed to sing," Buffy mumbled, turning to Angel with a puzzled frown. A second later she shook her head, bumping into him as she momentarily lost her balance. "I feel...different here. It's kind of like surfacing too fast when you dive, but my head...it's a little clearer all the sudden."

"Mine too." Willow glanced at Tara, receiving a faint nod in response to her unasked question.

The Host smiled as he gestured expansively. "Welcome to Caritas. No demonic violence is allowed here, and that includes spells. Cuts down on breakage, and you should see what that does for my insurance rates."

Giles was intrigued, both by the demon and his business acumen. "Really? It lowers the rates down that much? I have a shop, you see, and well, I'm afraid we do suffer a bit of breakage courtesy of some of our demonic clientele. Or rather, the things hunting them." He reached into his coat pocket, searching for a pencil. "Now exactly how much..."

"Giles, could you guys possibly talk actuarial tables later?" Xander shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to restrain from tapping out an inner beat. "Some of us have lives we'd prefer to start leading without a soundtrack."

Giles stood up a little straighter, raising a hand to adjust his glasses. "Umm, yes, of course. Mr., umm. Lorne, are you trying to say just being here is sufficient to lift this spell? Because I do still hear the music; it's just a bit...more controllable."

Lorne lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't we the impatient one? I'm a demon, not a magician. This place will cut down on the white noise, but you have to solve your own problems with the spell."

"Our problem is the spell," Xander groaned. He flopped down in a chair, hooking his foot around the leg of the one next to his and pulling it out for Anya.

"Oh, I highly doubt that. A Glissanderous wouldn't be able to cause this kind of damage without a lot of help, and I don't mean from Dial-A-Demon. No, you all gave it the power, and it went to town with it."

"But we didn't do anything," Willow protested as she chose seats for herself and Tara. "We were having a party, that's all. Barbecued wings, cookies, some punch..." she turned to Anya, who sagged against Xander's side, "and not one word about Tara's punch, Anya." Willow faced Lorne again, her eyes wide with confusion. "Anyway, we ate, and talked and sang and..."

"Sang?" Lorne pounced on the word. He yanked back a chair and sat down, resting his elbows on the table so he could prop his face up between his two fists. "What did you sing, oh little witch-let of mine?"

Willow made a face at the nickname, but decided sticking out her tongue would be childish. Satisfying...but childish.

"It was nothing. Just a little good luck spell." She gestured to Xander and Anya. "It was a present from Tara and I to Xander and Anya. Best wishes for the future, long life, happy marriage; that sort of thing."

"A Hallmark for the Beltane crowd; I get it." Lorne nodded in satisfaction. "Do you have the spell with you, or can you write it down for me? I think I know how this all happened, but that would clinch it."

Tara's brow wrinkled as she anxiously took her place next to Willow. "I think I have it in my purse," she answered. "I was afraid...well, I thought I'd forget the words. I didn't want to improvise. Not with a spell."

"Mmm, very prudent, I'm sure," was all Lorne said, but he looked less than impressed by their precautions.

Tara quickly dug through her purse and produced a wrinkled sheet of loose-leaf paper, which the Host seized with alacrity. He scanned the spell, mumbling to himself and shaking his head. Finally he placed the paper on the table and folded his hands over it.

"Well children, you've made quite the little mess, haven't you?"

"You said you knew how to fix it.'' Anya's voice was stronger now, and considerably sharper as she sat up straighter in her chair. "Do you or don't you?"

"Oh yes, but I have to say you've earned this one." He shook his head again as he tapped the spell for emphasis. "You didn't just invite the Glissanderous to your party; you summoned it."

"But we didn't even see a demon," Anya wailed. "Shouldn't he have made some sort of big, break-the-front-window sort of entrance? That's how demons usually get into Buffy's house."

"For that he'd need an actual body, and he, or possibly she, doesn't have one. Not with him, anyway."

"Did he leave it in his coat pocket or something?" Xander asked skeptically.

Giles peered over the rim of his glasses. "It occurs to me that in all my studies I have never come across a Glissanderous demon, as you say this creature is. How is it that you seem to be acquainted with the species?"

"Look around you." Lorne waved his hand to display his pride and joy. "You think a karaoke bar wouldn't attract a music-loving demon?"

"Frankly, no." Wesley shook his head. "I'm forced to concur with Mr. Gi...Rupert. It seems odd that you would know both the problem and the solution immediately."

Lorne cocked his head and smiled. "Jealous?"

"Lorne, could you please just answer the question?" Angel pulled a chair out for Buffy and sat down next to her at the table, with the Host on his other side. "What's the big mystery anyway?"

Lorne spread his hands flat on the table, his ruby-red nails catching the light of the candle in the centerpiece.

"It's...well, it's a little on the embarrassing side," he confessed.

Wesley suddenly blushed, as a mortifying thought occurred to him. "Dear Lord, it's not...that is to say...is it yours? Your...child?"

Lorne started to chuckle, though one hand flew to his mouth to hide the depth of his amusement. "Good heavens, no! It's probably older than Angel, and certainly no offspring of mine. Though I'll grant you, he'd be a lot more fun at a family party than some of my relations."

"So what's the deal?" Cordelia demanded. "You know, I got stuck pulling these guys from the teeth...or vocal cords or whatever...of this demon. If anyone deserves the dirt, I do." She leaned across the table, eyes glittering dangerously in the candlelight. "So the first person to start singing better be you."

"All right, all right," Lorne conceded with a sigh. "I told you there was no music on Pylea, right? That's my home dimension," he explained to the out-of-towners. "Well, now behold the reason why. Or not behold, actually, since the little buggers can't exactly manifest in this dimension. The closest they get is a bad imitation of San Francisco on a rainy night."

"So they're from Pylea," Angel mused. "And the reason they left? Couldn't find a good agent?"

"They were banished, along with music, ages ago," Lorne explained.

"No music on this Pylea at all?" Xander asked. "Right now that sounds like my kind of town, er, dimension."

"You should go there," Cordelia suggested with a sickly sweet smile. "You'd love it. I know I'd love thinking of you there."

Lorne flashed Cordelia a wicked grin, but decided to forgo asking the questions that were springing to his mind, at least for now.

"The Glissanderous are actually some sort of cousin to chaos demons," he said instead. "But they use music to get their jollies. You've all been touched by one before, I'm sure. You get a song in your head, and you keep on asking people if they remember the rest of the words, and soon they start singing it...it goes around like the flu, but with less of the heave-ho's."

"Speak for yourself," Xander groaned.

"But we've all got different songs," Willow protested. "That doesn't sound like the same m.o. at all." She saw the curious looks directed at her and self-consciously shrugged them off. "What? There was a 'Cagney & Lacey' marathon on last week and I was home sick. A broad vocabulary is a sign of a broad mind."

"That's why I wanted to see the spell." Lorne patted the wrinkled sheet of notebook paper. "Glissanderous...Glissanderi?...no matter…they're noted for the stuck needle effect, but they're pretty much one-note players. To give you a whole jukebox full requires a little more oom pah pah than they can usually command. This spell gave him that power, though."

"It was just a good luck spell. There was no dark magic involved, and it didn't even mention music." Tara's forehead wrinkled in pained confusion. "It doesn't make any sense."

"It does if you look at some of your musical selections." Lorne pushed his chair back from the table and hurried back to the end of the bar to retrieve a sheaf of papers. "I think I did pretty well getting them together, using the bits and pieces Cordy told me over the phone. These, my friends, are the answers to your problems. Or, more accurately, the explanation of your problems."

Cordelia nodded at the pages as Lorne set them down on the table. "You've got that right. Even admitting to knowing some of these songs says way more about these guys than I feel comfortable with." She grinned mischievously. "The only thing I can't figure out is how Wesley ended up with Angel's song."

"I told you!" Wesley burst out.

"Wes, calm down," Angel directed. "Lorne, you want to back up a few steps for those of us still stuck at the overture?"

Lorne picked up the papers and waved them in the air. "These are your hopes or your fears, your past or your future; only you can say which. That little spell the teen witches cooked up was supposed to be about a rose-covered cottage brand of future, but it was colored with so much fear it's a wonder you didn't suck in a full-blooded chaos demon and a natural disaster to boot." He looked from one bewildered face to another. "As it is, count yourselves lucky to get off with a little slap upside the head from the Glissanderous that just might teach you something."

"That'll be the day," Cordelia muttered darkly.

* * * * *

"So those songs all mean something?" Buffy frowned as she gestured to the papers still tightly clenched in Lorne's fist. "But I don't even remember enough of my song to know who sang it, let alone know what it means to my life."

"And that, sweet child, is why you're here." Lorne released his grip on the pages and gently patted Buffy on the hand. "You dive right into that song, and just let the music carry you away. Sooner or later it will remind you of what you've been trying so hard not to see. Once you face the boogeying monster, you'll be that much closer to laying it to rest."

"But the song will be gone after we finish singing, right?" Anya asked anxiously. "Cordelia said singing it would make it go away." She glared at her fiancée's ex-girlfriend. "She promised."

Cordelia held up her palms in front of her face. "I promised not to drive the van into a ravine on the way up here just to stop the annoying, and might I add, off-key, humming; that was the extent of my promising to date."

"I was not off-key," Giles sniffed. "You are obviously somewhat tone-deaf, Cordelia."

"No, that would be Angel," she sighed.

"The song will disappear after you finish singing it," the Host assured them. "But you're only laying yourself open to more trouble if you don't figure out where it's coming from. There's more than one type of demon out there, you know. And the big uglies of them are just itching to find a weak spot."

"So you're like a musical therapist now." Cordelia beamed at Lorne, leaning forward to push gently at his shoulder. "That is so cool. Do you think there's any money in it?"

"Sadly, no. Just the satisfaction of a job well done." Lorne eyed his patients speculatively. "And the possibility of bleeding eardrums."

Cordelia nodded sagely. "I hear you."

"Could we possibly get on with this?" Giles glared at Cordelia before focusing his attention on Lorne. "Though I do vaguely recall the song I've been hearing, I'm afraid I will require some assistance with the specific lyrics. Did you manage to find them?" he asked, nodding his head at the sheaf of papers resting on the table in front of Lorne.

Lorne began to shuffle through the small pile of lyrics until he found the correct sheet. "I sure did, but you for one did not make it easy. You couldn't have picked something from 'The Wall'?"

Giles smiled frostily as he accepted the proffered page. "So sorry for the inconvenience," he murmured with something less than sincerity.

A confused frown chased across Xander's face. "Wait, I thought we were going to use those little tele-prompters for the lyrics."

Lorne shook his head regretfully. "Some of you, yes. But I couldn't get them all ready for the screen on such short notice. Not to mention having room on the stage."

Xander paled. "We have to go on stage? Couldn't we just...you know...right here?" he asked, gesturing to the table.

"Sorry, tough guy. No 'you-knowing' at the tables in Caritas." He looked quickly through the pages and pulled one out to hand to Xander. "You want to sing; you get up on the stage."

"Oh this day gets better and better," Xander muttered as he took his lyrics from the Host.

"Let's see, who's up next?" Lorne caroled. "Wesley, old fellow, yours was already loaded and ready to go; no need to look that one up." He patted Angel on the back. "We try to keep certain favorites available for our more faithful clientele."

"It's not...oh forget it," Angel grumbled. "What about mine?"

Lorne smiled slowly. "Oh it's loaded too...if you really need the help."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy." Lorne made a great show of shaking his head, as a little smirk played on his lips. "You always seem to have the ticket home stamped and ready, but you're too busy tripping over your feet to notice those stunning ruby pumps they're sporting."

Xander grinned, feeling the first stirrings of happiness since he'd woken up that morning. "You know, I think I like this guy after all," he confided in Anya.

"Lorne..." Angel said warningly.

"Angel," said Buffy quietly, laying her hand gently on the vampire's arm. "Sing now; pummel later."

Lorne beamed at her. "Oh she's darling, Angel; just the match for a big lug like you. And lucky for you, my ferocious little songbird, the 70s are really big in the karaoke biz. You're also loaded and ready to go."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Seventies? Is that where this comes from? But I wasn't even born yet."

"Lambchop, the management claims no responsibility for the psychoses of the patrons. We only serve to soothe the troubled soul."

"That's sweet," Tara said softly. "The, umm, soothing souls part, I mean."

Lorne reached over and tweaked her nose between his thumb and forefinger before he retrieved two sheets of paper from the dwindling pile.

"Somehow, precious, I just knew this one was yours. Sorry to say dead teenagers songs aren't readily available at your average karaoke bar...or even an above average one like Caritas. I did, however, find these lyrics pretty quickly with the help of my new bartender." He turned to Wesley and Angel. "You know him; Rudolfo, the Asrac demon. They're so sentimental."

"What about mine?" Willow asked anxiously. "It's definitely not something you'd sing in a place like this...which is a very nice place..." she stammered, "but not the type of place where you'd sing that type of song."

"I should say not." Lorne was the picture of offended majesty. "It goes against my principles to even have it sung here, but since this is an extreme situation..."

"You sound like my father," Willow said glumly. A moment later she frowned. "You're not...I mean I thought it was kind of a human religion, but it is awfully old so I suppose...but you're not...are you?"

"Indeed I am, but I don't know what religion has to do with it. No matter how hard the good doctor tried to sell the whole fairy tale ending, that old demon never did find religion. He got tired of the singing, the same as you have, so he gave back the presents just to shut them up."

"Wait...what? What old demon?" Willow glanced from one blank face to another. "Does anyone know what he's talking about?"

"The Grinch," Lorne said, leaning back in his chair. "Who else?"

"So you're saying the Grinch...Dr. Seuss' 'Grinch Who Stole Christmas'...was real?" Since Lorne was doing his best to help them, Tara tried not to sound too doubtful, but she fighting a losing battle.

"Of course he was. He's a cousin of mine." Lorne raised a green hand to run down his long pointed chin. "Can't you see the family resemblance?"

"Okay, okay." Xander held up his hands in surrender. "Enough with the teasing of the small town yokels. You can't honestly expect me to believe that the Grinch was not only real, but that he was a relative of yours."

Lorne watched Xander silently for a moment, until the boy began to squirm.

"No," the Host answered slowly, "I can't expect you to believe." A wide smile crept across his face, lifting the edges of his bright red lips until they seemed about to touch his ears, exposing a multitude of shining white teeth. "But you'll always wonder."

Willow spoke to break the dead silence that followed Lorne's prediction.

"So, umm, could you find my song?"

Lorne drew a deep breath and returned to the business at hand. "In a way. Have you ever seen those charming little 'follow the bouncing ball' sing-a-long tapes?"

"Well then, we're all set," Giles said with satisfaction. "Except...oh dear, what about Anya?"

"I looked and I looked," Lorne answered, waving around the remaining sheets of paper. "I found some that seemed to have similar ideas, or maybe a word here and there...but I couldn't find one that had all the lyrics she told Cordelia." He folded his hands together in supplication as he faced Anya. "I'm so sorry, but I don't know what we're going to do for you."

Anya stiffened her spine and drew a long shuddering breath. "It's okay," she said bravely. "I think I actually know all of mine. Dawn, that little wretch..." she spared time for a quick scowl at Buffy, "kept singing it in front of me before she went to camp."

"But honey, why didn't you just sing it for us when Cordy told us that was how to get rid of the demon's touch?" Xander rubbed her back, trying to show his support. "You could have been done with this mess two hours ago."

"I couldn't face it alone," she said, her lower lip quivering in earnest. "It's just too horrible."

"Well you're not alone now, sunshine." Lorne smiled fondly at her as he waved to the stage. "Everybody up. It's time to start the concert."

"Wait, Lorne. Should you be here for this?" Angel glanced worriedly from Cordelia to Wesley. "I mean all of us singing at the same time...it's going to get pretty messy."

"Oh sure, worry about Lorne's delicate ears," Cordelia sniffed. "I'm here too, you know."

Angel smiled sourly. "I meant because of the auras. He's going to get blasted if we all start singing at once."

"Don't worry about me, Angel-face. I've already taken preventive measures." He waved his still untouched drink in the air. "You're all doing club soda shooters. But for me...gin." He took a hefty swig and hissed through his clenched teeth. "Double."

* * * * *

Part 10

They slowly climbed up on the stage and ranged themselves across it. Lorne had assembled the prompters where he guessed certain individuals would stand, and by and large he had assumed correctly. Angel took the far end, with Buffy next to him and Willow on her other side. Next came Tara, and then Giles, with Wesley next to him. The last in the group to assume their places were the reluctant Xander and Anya.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Xander called, nervously shuffling his single sheet of paper from one hand to the other.

Lorne raised his glass to Cordelia. "We have to listen to all of them at once and he thinks this is a bad idea."

"You don't have any more of that gin, do you?" she asked, already looking slightly queasy.

"Darling child, this is a bar," he said patiently. "Of course I do. And as soon as you have that next birthday," he continued in the face of her brightening smile, "you can have some of it."

"But..."

"Meanwhile," he reached into his coat pocket, "earplugs."

"It's not the same," she grumbled, putting the plugs in her ears.

Lorne clapped his hands together, calling his performers to attention. "I'll start the machines in just a moment, but they will be running lyrics only. It hardly seemed fair for some of you to have music and others not, so you'll all be singing a cappella."

"Oh dear Lord," Wesley blurted out, glancing at Angel before he could control himself.

"Gee Wes, I must have missed seeing that Grammy on your bookcase the last time I was over," the vampire growled.

"Now, now, children, play nice," Lorne scolded. "So, who wants to be a big brave camper and start us out?" He ran an appraising gaze from one end of the stage to the other. "Hands?"

Anya's left hand jerkily rose in the air. "I'll do it."

Xander squeezed her right hand. "I'm right here with you, An."

She gently pulled her hand free of his grasp and held it out in front of her, the first two fingers extended in a V-shape. Slowly she moved her arm horizontally in front of her body in an up-and-down pattern as she began to sing in a quavering voice:

// Little Rabbit Foo Foo, hoppin' through the forest
Scoopin' up the field mice and boppin' 'em on the head //

Lorne smiled encouragingly at her before he leaned across the table to whisper to Cordelia. "Save my place while I get the rest of that bottle of gin. This is going to take more than one teensy little double."

One by one they all joined in with their own songs, each reluctantly adding his or her strained voice to the mélange of sound. It wasn't easy for any of them to concentrate on one song, when so many words and tunes were being given freedom. Harder still to handle were the images that slowly began to form as the lyrics sorted themselves out and told their own stories.

* * * * *

// There's so much that we share,
That it's time we're aware
It's a small world after all //

Xander tried to ignore the mocking echo in his brain as he sang his song. All those little voices chorusing in, making light of his suffering. Rotten little kids, all of them. His dad was right; kids were nothing but trouble. You fed them and clothed them and gave them a bed, and still they wanted things like piano lessons he couldn't afford to give them, or being taught to throw a baseball properly...as if he was ever any good at sports.

// Her name was Lola.
She was a showgirl //

Wesley could see Lola clearly in his mind, from the hem of her low-cut dress to the tip of her yellow feathers. She was an ordinary girl, who dreamed of being something extraordinary. Her heretofore-quiet life had ill prepared her for the storm of passion that swirled through the Copacabana that fateful night...

// Fah who for-aze
Dah who dor-aze
Welcome Christmas,
Christmas Day //

Christmastime at the Rosenberg house was...well, not actually Christmastime. Chanukah was celebrated with all due reverence, joy, and even presents, but Santa Claus and Rudolph were conspicuously absent from conversation, as well as post-homework pre-bedtime viewing. For that, little Willow Rosenberg had to sneak over to her best friend Xander's house. She and Xander, and their other best friend Jesse, would huddle under one blanket as they watched poor little Max try to pull the Grinch's sleigh up Mount Crumpet, and Rudolph light up Christmas Eve with his shiny nose.

// Over the mountains, across the seas
Who knows what will be waiting for me?
I could sail forever to strange sounding names.
Faces of people and places don't change //

There wasn't much that Rupert Giles was proud of when it came to his college days, at least not on the first go around. He had tried to fit into his father's plans for his life, but something deep within him rebelled. He wasn't made to sit in musty old libraries and look up ancient prophecies to help some teenage girl go fight his battles for him. He was meant for smoky nightclubs and dimly lit alleys, for excitement and danger and life lived on the edge. He had tried to take all that his father had taught him and put it to use for his own ends, seeking the excitement he craved in the darkness he was meant to fight.

// We were out on a date in my daddy's car
We hadn't driven very far //

Tara's mother died when she was seventeen; she knew all about the unpredictability of Fate. Car accidents happened, and the railroad tracks weren't always empty when they should have been. But sometimes people courted danger, without even realizing it.

// There was something in the air that night
The stars were bright, Fernando //

Joyce and Hank Summers danced around the living room of their new home, as four-year-old Buffy sat on the stairs watching them through the railing. There was a party going on, New Year's Eve if the noisemakers and confetti were any evidence. People were drinking, and dancing, and singing along to the song playing on the stereo.

// This morning I woke up with this feeling
I didn't know how to deal with
And so I just decided to myself I'd hide it to myself
And never talk about it and didn't I go and shout it
When you walked into the room //

He was not alone; she was here. Angel clung to Buffy's hand as reassurance, but he couldn't shake the fear that clawed at him when all other demons were vanquished.

She was standing next to him now, her voice as strong and sure as the spirit it gave breath to. She was alive, and as safe as she ever would be, and she even seemed to want him back in her life. It was everything Angel could have hoped for, and yet, as he struggled his way through the silly bubblegum rock his subconscious had clung to for 30 years, he couldn't help thinking about the future.

* * * * *

"Lorne," Cordelia asked suspiciously, "are you...you're crying, aren't you?"

"Oh but it's so sad," Lorne sniffled. "If you could see the auras, Cordelia. That poor thing...so frightened and yet so brave." He paused to wipe his eyes with a large scarlet handkerchief he pulled from his breast pocket. "Imagine her working in an industry that perpetuates the myth that finding a rabbit where you'd least expect it is a good thing. The courage that girl has!"

Cordelia pulled the half-empty bottle of gin away from the Host and leaned over to put it on the next table.

"That's it; I'm cutting you off. If I have to deal with this sober, then so do you. Why should I have all the fun?"

* * * * *

// It's a small world after all
It's a small, small world //

Kids needed more than just piano lessons, Xander realized in a panic. They needed someone to listen when they were upset, and someone who would know an 'I-have-a-history-test-today' stomach ache from an appendix looking for a rumble. They would want answers to questions about things like death, and why they had to learn algebra, and he was still trying to keep up with Anya's quest for knowledge.

// She sits there so refined
And drinks herself half-blind
She lost her youth and she lost her Tony,
Now she's lost her mind //

How Wesley envied Lola, even with the wreckage that her life became. The excitement, the danger, even the great loss, seemed so far removed from the almost monastic life of a Watcher turned rogue demon hunter turned privateinvestigator. So much of his life was spent searching the darkness for evil; how was he ever to find the beauty it might also contain? The music? The passion?

// All I want to tell you, all I want to say
Is count me in on the journey.
Don't expect me to stay //

Giles' experiment had ended badly, and he had tried to put it all behind him, yet the yearning for that life he had denied himself always remained buried beneath the layers of tweed. And now he was heading back to where it all began. Back to face the dreams he once had, and the way they fit with the life he had fallen into.

To face the man he had become by letting go of those dreams.

// Welcome, welcome Christmas
Welcome, welcome Christmas Day //

Willow remembered feeling terribly guilty about sneaking out of her own house and doing something her parents wouldn't approve of; she normally wasn't that type of little girl. But she also remembered how warm and happy she felt just being with her two best friends. They were together, and together they could face anything, back in the days when 'hell' was just a word she wasn't supposed to say, and not a place she might someday visit.

// I couldn't stop so I swerved to the right
I'll never forget the sound that night //

Sometimes it wasn't just an accident; Tara knew sometimes the passenger made the driver deliberately head into danger, because the passenger thought they could get the car out of the way in time. Because Willow...that is to say, the passenger...thought she could do anything, could call forth any power she needed, just because she needed it. She didn't always realize that some powers weren't meant to summoned at will, and that a terrible price might be exacted for her willfulness.

// Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would, my friend, Fernando //

Everyone at the New Year's Eve party was happy and smiling, especially little Buffy, as she observed the silly grown-ups from her solitary perch. But the adult Buffy, looking back, was struck most by how young her parents seemed, and how much in love. It was the first solid memory she had of them from her childhood, and the last one before her mother told her she would soon be a big sister.

// I think I love you so what am I so afraid of?
I'm afraid that I'm not sure of
A love there is no cure for //

Angel knew the coming dawn would temporarily separate him from Buffy, the way it kept him apart from the rest of his little family, but he was learning to deal with that. He also knew she still had months, years really, of school left to complete at UC Sunnydale, but that no longer concerned him either. The future he quailed in the face of was much farther away than Buffy herself could hope to see...and therein lay the problem. His shansu was a vague prophecy at best, and he had so much to atone for before the Powers would grant him a new life. He saw himself fifty years from now, a hundred, two hundred. Still singing stupid songs like this, still fighting external demons to deny the existence of the demon within, and still loving this woman.

And therefore still alone.

* * * * *

Lorne sat up straight in his chair again and wiped his eyes as the singers straggled to the end of their selections. The last one to finish, ironically, was the first one to start. Anya's voice still quavered as she wound up for the big finish, but she gave it everything she had left.

// And the moral of the story is
Hare today, goon tomorrow //

"Bravo, bravo!" Lorne called out, clapping his hands loudly. When he noticed Cordelia wasn't joining him in the applause he leaned across the table and pulled out an earplug. "Clap," he commanded in a stinging whisper.

"You've got to be kidding." But with much rolling of eyes, and a heavy sigh for added emphasis, she began to clap as well.

"That was just great, guys," she said. "We'll call you."

Willow opened her mouth to elaborate on some things she could call Cordelia, or maybe call down upon her, but Anya uttered a loud gasp before the witch could speak.

"I get it," Anya whispered in amazement. She yanked at Xander's sleeve, almost pulling the seam apart in her excitement. "I understand now."

"What do you understand, An?"

"The song," she answered, her eyes wide with wonder. "The good fairy turned the bunny," she paused to shudder, "into a goon because that's what he was inside all along."

"Well, yeah..."

"They're like caterpillars," she continued breathlessly. "They come to this planet as fluffy bunnies to lull foolish humans into a false sense of security before they assume their true form as goons that we have to spend our free evenings killing. And they're so much harder to kill when they're full-grown too. So the song teaches us to kill them before they do that butterfly thing...and then you and I will have time to have children."

"Anya, honey..."

"It really sounds quite rational when you hear her explain it all," Lorne remarked to Cordelia.

"You rationalized those white shoes you wore the weekend after Labor Day too; I don't want to hear it," she retorted, turning her head away.

"They were genuine snakeskin," he protested. "Is it my fault the little rascal had a lucky summer?"

Willow raised her hand, waving it to gain the Host's attention.

"Umm, does anyone care that my song is starting to go away?"

"Well..." Cordelia began.

Lorne clapped his hand over the former cheerleader's mouth. "That's just wonderful, doll. So did you have any big revelations while you were singing your Wiccan heart out?"

Willow glanced quickly at Tara, and then beyond her to Xander. "You could say that." She took her girlfriend's hand firmly in her own. "Tara, you know that later we were talking about yesterday? I think it's later now."

Tara nodded and raised her free hand to wipe away the traces of tears she had shed during her song.

"I think so too."

"Tara, I'm sorry I haven't let you talk about New York," Willow blurted out. She stopped herself for a minute to compose her thoughts, and then continued, "I guess I just didn't want things to change...more than they already have, I mean. I feel like I'm finally finding myself, and you're a big part of that. But it's hard to find yourself if everyone around you is changing. You have to have a frame of reference."

"That's what scares me, Willow." Tara's eyes were huge in her pale face as she flung her arms around Willow's neck and hung on for dear life. "You're changing so fast, and your powers are growing and...it used to be that I just felt left behind, but now...I don't want you to die, Willow! That song...it made me so scared...but not as scared as the idea of losing you."

"But I'm fine," her lover protested.

"All the dark magic...the power you had to use to bring Buffy back...it's changed you," Tara insisted. "And I'm scared that if I go away, or even if I stay here, I'm going to lose you to it."

Willow sighed, an anxious frown settling across her brow. "I guess this is going to be more than a one-talk talk."

"You two aren't the only ones who have some talking to do." Xander looked to Anya, reaching over to pull her against his side. "Anya...I love you, and we're going to spend the rest of our lives together...but this whole timeframe you've got going with the family thing is wigging me out. I don't want us to have kids right away just because you're between jobs."

"But...but my song," she said, her lower lip beginning to quiver. "The things that it told me...I think I had a real breakthrough."

He smiled fondly at her upturned face and patted her cheek. "Uh, yeah, we need to talk about that too."

"But what I can't figure out," she continued with a frown, "is why the Good Fairy is working for the other side."

"Breakthrough, breakdown; it's really a toss-up," Cordelia said airily.

"So Wes," Lorne said quickly, stepping up on stage to block Xander from getting off of it, "how are things at the Copa?"

"No longer in fashion, thank you very much." Wesley smiled wearily and scratched his head. "I can't imagine what drew me to that song except...it seemed so intense. Life lived to the fullest, at least until that nasty single gunshot stanza. It's not something I see very often..." he glanced at Angel and Buffy, standing hand-in-hand at the end of the stage, "except perhaps in the lives of others. Angel, I'm...very sorry if I've made you feel responsible for my lack of personal drama. I suppose I've just been a trifle envious."

Buffy looked curiously at her former Watcher, beginning to sense something of the man Angel saw inside of Wesley. "I'm not knocking the benefits of an extreme lifestyle," she said slowly, "but as hard as we make it look...it's actually harder."

"I realize that, Buffy." The ghost of a wistful smile dashed across Wesley's mouth. "And while I don't think I'm quite up to living life as intensely as you and Angel do, I would rather I absented myself by choice, and not because of a lack of opportunity."

"Wesley," Angel said softly, "you are one of the most determined people I know. It may take some time, but I know eventually you will find whoever, or whatever, it is you're looking for."

"One small favor, though." Cordelia pinched her two fingers together to demonstrate the relatively minor nature of her request. "When you do find the 'whoever'...can you make sure she's not a 'whatever' too? Cause we usually have to kill the whatevers."

Wesley folded his arm over his waist and bowed low, honoring Cordelia's gift for chasing away his blues. "I will do my best."

"You know," Xander drawled, "the G-note was spouting a pretty funky tune there. What was up with that?" He grinned, enjoying the older man's discomfiture. "Going back to the glory days, Ripper?"

"Yes, well, I suppose I was. In a way." Giles started to remove his glasses in preparation for polishing them, but the wave of knowing smiles that greeted his gesture dissuaded him. He defiantly adjusted the spectacles, but left them on his face as he continued.

"I'm not the same man that I was then, but I'm also not the same man who left England six years ago. This may surprise you to learn, but I don't think I'm really a great deal more sure of who I am than any of you." He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to notice it took just slightly longer every year to find the beginning of it. "It certainly surprised me."

"The mystery of life, my friend." Lorne clapped Giles on the back. "You live, you learn, you go on game shows and learn you still don't know it all."

"And what more can be said about life than that, huh gang? Unless..." Xander raised his eyebrow at Buffy and Angel, "someone else wants to share his or her irrational, yet melodic, fears?"

Cordelia took quick note of the discomfort on Angel's face, as well as Buffy's. While she privately admitted that she enjoyed teasing Angel herself every once in a great while, Cordelia Chase was not about to let anyone else outside the family mess with him.

"Or unless somebody else wants to get a rented van back in time," she said smoothly. "I vote we adjourn to the hotel, get something to eat and then I can take the Sunnydale crowd home."

"I really need to speak with Angel, Cordy my sweet. And Buffy too, actually." Lorne pretended anxiety as he made his appeal to Cordelia. "Can I drop them off in about a half-hour, or will that wreak havoc with your timetable?"

She smiled in relief as she caught Lorne's drift. "As long as they don't mind eating in the van...and as long as Angel promises not to spill anything that will be tough to explain to the car rental people...it's cool by me."

"So, we shall see you back at the umm, hotel, then? Soon?" Giles asked.

"Soon enough," Buffy promised, raising her eyebrow at his fatherly tone. "Oh, and guys, before I forget, you all need to be at my house at eight tomorrow night. Dawn is going to be back from band camp and she wants to...umm...she wants to play some of the songs she's learned."

Buffy cringed at the groans her announcement gave birth to, but took heart in the fact that no one refused her invitation. Being able to literally drag people to her parties, if necessary, did have its advantages.

Angel was silent until the last of the Scoobies had departed, and Lorne was busy pretending to clean behind the bar on the other side of the room. The vampire draped his arm around the Slayer and gently directed her to the edge of the stage. They sat down side-by-side, Angel's arm still around her and his hand firmly ensconced in her two smaller ones.

"So," he said quietly. "Do you want to tell me about Fernando now?"

* * * * *

Go to Part 11