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DISCLAIMER: I do not own Buffy and/or Angel and/or The Phantom of the Opera.
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Angel stood on the platform high above the stage of the Paris Opera House. He stared down at the people below who were unaware of his presence. He could see the two new managers of his Opera House: Monsieur Rupert Giles and Monsieur Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Those two men along with the former manager who was retiring were groveling at the feet of Drusilla the spoiled diva who was obviously past her prime. She had threatened to walk off and leave them in the lurch, so they were desperately trying to keep from losing their star.
"Dru, you cow. You should have been put out to pasture long ago," Angel muttered to himself. "It's time you stepped down and made way for Miss Buffy Summers to shine in the spotlight."
Giles and Wyndam-Price, with the proper amount of kissing up, managed to persuade Drusilla to favor them with a song from that evening's performance.
Angel looked down and grinned as he saw a few of the stagehands quickly plug their ears with bits of cloth in anticipation of Drusilla's singing.
She began to sing. The new managers exchanged glances and tried to maintain polite and pleased expressions on their faces as they endured Drusilla's over-the-top opera singing.
"Enough," muttered Angel as he sliced a rope, thus causing a heavy piece of backdrop to fall directly on Drusilla.
Drusilla screamed as she collapsed under the sudden weight that fell upon her.
Pandemonium broke out on stage as people rushed to free Drusilla from the heavy piece of backdrop.
"Warren! You idiot! What are doing up there?" shouted the retiring manager.
"Wasn't me, sir!" answered Warren. "I wasn't even at my post!"
Warren looked around. He thought he saw a shadow darting away.
That did it. Drusilla shouted angrily at her managers. She informed them she was leaving and stormed off the stage and out of the building, followed by her entourage.
Madame Joyce Summers handed Giles a note. She had picked it up off of the floor moments after the backdrop had fallen on Drusilla.
"This is a message from the Phantom of the Opera. He has instructions for you two gentlemen on how he wants his opera house run."
"HIS Opera House?" scoffed Giles. "Well, I like that!"
"And he says his salary is overdue," said Madame Summers.
"A salary? Why would a ghost or a phantom need money?" asked Wyndam-Price. "Of all the nerve!"
"Why not? The previous manager paid him 20,000 francs a month."
"20,000 francs?" sputtered Giles. "That's outrageous!"
"You might be able to afford it, what with your new patron," said Madame Summers.
She was referring to young Spike, the Vicomte de William. The new managers had introduced him to the cast and crew. The Vicomte graciously made pleasantries and excused himself so that they could go on with their rehearsal. Drusilla was convinced that the Vicomte adored her when he politely kissed her hand.
"He loves me," Drusilla told her entourage. "He loves me, he loves me!"
Drusilla did not notice the young blonde chorus girl who turned to another chorus girl and said, "He wouldn't recognize me after all these years."
"He didn't see you, Buffy," was the reply from Dawn, her sister. Buffy had told Dawn earlier that she and Spike were childhood sweethearts.
Giles angrily tore up the note.
"Well, Madame Summers," he said. "I was planning to make the announcement about the Vicomte this evening before the performance. But now that's out of the question since we will have to cancel because we no longer have a star!"
"Cancel? No! Surely we can do something! What about Drusilla's understudy?" asked Wyndam-Price.
"Understudy?" scoffed the orchestra conductor. "There is NO understudy for Drusilla!"
Madame Summers quickly offered a solution. "Miss Buffy Summers can sing in her place."
Giles and Wyndam-Price stared at her.
"A chorus girl? Oh, no. Certainly not," said Giles.
"She can do it," insisted Madame Summers. "She has been taught well."
"By whom?" asked Wyndam-Price.
Buffy shyly answered, "I don't know his name, sir."
"Go on," Madame Summers said. "Sing for them."
"I don't feel good about this," said Giles. "I really don't."
"Oh, give her a listen," said Wyndam-Price smiling. "She's pretty!"
And so Buffy sang. It was beautiful. Everyone stopped to listen in awe.
That night Miss Buffy Summers had the spotlight in front of the packed Opera House. Spike the young Vicomte de William was seated in Box Five. He stared at the performer on stage.
"Could it be Buffy?" he whispered aloud to himself.
She finished her aria. He stood up and applauded along with everybody else.
Spike rushed downstairs. He was determined to pay a visit to her in her dressing room that evening. He wondered if she would recognize him after all these years.
From Angel's secret hiding place he observed and listened to what was going on in Buffy's dressing room. He became jealous upon hearing the conversation between Spike and Buffy.
"That annoying pretty boy has to go," Angel said softly to himself. "How dare he intrude in my exclusive relationship with Buffy!"
He heard Spike make plans to take Buffy out to supper.
"Two minutes," said Spike as he left the dressing room, ignoring Buffy's protests.
"Spike, no! Wait!" said Buffy. But Spike left and closed the door behind him.
He had scoffed at her story about the Angel of Music who had helped her reach her stardom here at the Opera House.
A dark gloved hand silently and discreetly turned the key and locked the door to Buffy's dressing room. It then removed the key and left.
Madame Summers who was standing nearby observed that. She said nothing.
TO BE CONTINUED