I used to sing all the time. My mother had a great collection of Broadway musicals, and my dad probably owned every record ever put out by ABBA, the Beach Boys and the Beatles. I was singing when it happened. 'Help!' I think, ironically enough. I was singing the back-up, and suddenly there was spinning and screeching and a horrible whine. Somehow, at the end of it all, the radio still worked.

The last thing I heard before my insanity was the opening chords of 'Yellow Submarine.'

For the next eight years, I don't remember singing. It took too much effort to keep the voices under control. I didn't have time for anything else. When I woke up in the hospital, I was with it just enough to understand what they were telling me about my parents. They thought it was PTSD, and that it would eventually go away.

So, of course, it didn't.

But here, singing for Lorne, I felt much better. That might actually be the understatement of my life. I felt sane, and centred and in control. And I felt safe.

Then, there was a knock on the door, and Wesley came in with my needle.

* * * * *

Angel set himself, and rammed against the door again. It still wouldn't give. He bit back a curse at the obvious noise and lack of surprise, and then Cordelia put a hand on his arm. Looking at Wesley, Angel stepped back, giving Wes enough room to blow the door open with a spelled powder he had been experimenting with.

The results were somewhat extreme. The door didn't just splinter and burst, it vapourized, taking a fair chunk of the frame with it. It did the job however, and the five of them entered, weapons at the ready.

They were set upon immediately by an assortment of creatures. Wes and Angel made short work of the two vampires, while Lorne took one out with his crossbow. Cordelia, sword drawn, stalked a Narchak demon, and while Fred distracted it with gunfire, ran it through.

"Angel!" cried Fred, pointing across the room at a small man attempting to make a break for the exit.

Angel began to cross the room, but Wesley was already there. With a low round-house kick, Wes tripped up the fleeing man, and by then, Angel was there to help restrain him.

"What did you want her for, Sarkov?" Angel barked, his game face still on.

"I don't know," squealed the captive. "I was just holding her, and making sure they got the drugs. They needed her for something. I don't know what."

"Who is this 'they'?" Cordelia asked.

"I don't know!" repeated Sarkov. "They told me they'd get me out of my drug trafficking charges if I did this for them."

"Wolfram and Hart," grated Angel.

"I tell you, I don't know anything!"

"Sing," commanded Wesley.

"I don't. . ."

"I mean literally. Pick a song and sing it."

"The eensy weensy spider went up the water spout," began Sarkov.

"He's telling the truth," said Lorne.

Wesley knocked Sarkov unconscious, and got to his feet.

"Oh my God," burst out Fred, immediately attracting their attention. "The Hyperion. If Wolfram and Hart knew we'd track Sarkov. . ."

"Let's go," said Angel.

{Something carries Hannah over its shoulder. Wesley picks up a needle. Gunn takes an icepack off of his eye.}

Consciousness came back slowly. Her head ached, but when she tried to touch it, she realized that her hands were tied behind her. She tried moving her legs. No luck there either. At least she could feel them, although she was quickly beginning to wish that she couldn't. She was sufficiently awake now to be aware of her surroundings. There wasn't much to go by. No windows. The dampness was characteristic of a basement, and the only light came from the crack under the only door.

"Come on, think," she said, speaking out loud. "Think, think, think, think. I can sit here and wait for Cordy to get a vision, but there's no guarantee that'll happen. I've already had two of her visions, that's got to be a limit. There has got to be something I can do. There has to. . ."

She straightened as much as she could, and took a deep breath.

"O Canada, terre de nos aieux. . ."

{Gunn fighting six ruffians. One of them knocks him across the room. He doesn't get up.}

"I'm sorry, Angel," gasped Gunn, shifting the icepack to let him see a little. Fred immediately put it back over his eye. "There were at least 15 of them. We were in the lobby, and they just smashed in and took her."

"It's OK," said Angel, his hand on the black man's shoulder. "You did everything you could."

"Angel, if they inject her with amadosium again, she's going to have a horrible reaction if they don't purge her first," said Fred.

"My God," said Wesley. "Did she take the needle Gunn?"

"No," came the reply. "You said to wait until 10:00, and they came around 9:30."

"How long until the drug wears off?" asked Cordelia.

"About two hours," said Wesley. He looked at his watch. "She'll notice the effects around midnight, but she won't lose total control around one. Give or take. Angel, she could be a risk to you."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," said Angel unequivocally. "I'll step back if I have to."

"How are we supposed to find her in two hours, and then take her back if Angel can't help us?" burst out Lorne.

They looked at him, shocked. He looked down in silent apology.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I have a headache." His head snapped up. "I have a headache!"

Wesley looked at him excitedly, "Can you find her?"

"Yeah, I think I can."

{basement}

It was getting harder to concentrate. For the first few minutes, she couldn't work out why. Then, she remembered Wesley's needle, which was probably sitting on her bedside table, still full. Her throat hurt. She had been singing for almost an hour. No one had told her to shut up. She hoped to God it was working.

The voices were getting louder, and it was harder to drown them out by singing. She was running out of songs.

"You took the works right out of my mouth,

Oh it must have been while you were kissing me."

{car}

"You alright?" Fred asked Lorne.

"I'll be fine," grated Lorne, hands on his horns. "Turn left."

Angel turned the corner abruptly, causing the occupants of the back seat to smash to the right.

"Hey!" exclaimed Cordelia. "We're tight enough back here."

"I guess we're usually rescuing each other," Gunn hypothesized. "Maybe you should spring for a minivan Angel."

"Over my undead body."

"Right, Angel," Lorne said shortly. "Then the next left."

The corner was a bit softer this time, and Cordelia's only outburst was a muted grunt.

{basement}

There were too many voices. Too many voices and not enough songs. She took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

"I've heard there was a simple chord,

That David played and it pleased the Lord.

But you don't really care for music, do you?"

{car}

"How is your head, Lorne?" asked Wesley.

"Better," came the reply. "Which is worse."

"Hang on to her. We've got to be almost there."

"Take the next right."

{basement}

She was crying now, it took so much effort to sing. Her throat hurt, her hands hurt, and the voices in her head weren't letting her sing. She bit her lip to give her something to focus on.

"Young and beautiful, someday your looks will be gone.

When the others turn you off, who'll be turning you on?"

{street}

The car screeched to a halt, and the occupants had jumped out almost before Angel had finished shifting into park.

{basement}

She couldn't hear herself think. The voices were too loud, and they blotted out the music. She tried to calm them down, to tell them they would be all right, but they ignored her. She screamed at them, but they wouldn't listen.

She forgot how to sing.

{street}

"Dammit!" said Lorne. "I can't feel her."

"Were we close?" asked Gunn, tossing Fred an axe.

"Yes. She's in this building."

"I can't feel her either," said Angel. "That's good, isn't it?"

"It means she hasn't been dosed," said Wesley. "I have the needle."

"Good. Let's go."

{Hannah in the basement. Angel turning right. Tires screeching.}

"Is she here?" asked a voice that sounded as though it persuaded children to eat poisoned candy on a daily basis.

"Yes sir, and she's about ready for some more amadosium," said a henchvamp.

"Good. Angel is on his way to rescue her. If he gets within 10 feet of her, she'll suck the soul right out of his body."

"It didn't work like that last time," pointed out another henchvamp.

"This time," said the voice, which had taken on tones of irritation as it emerged from beneath a black hood. "there is no tranquilizer, and the dose is much stronger."

"How well does it work in a syringe?" asked Angel from the doorway.

Immediately, the room filled with henchvamps, and the fight began. Three went straight for Angel, and he swung into action. Gunn, Cordelia and Fred surrounded two more in a corner, while Wesley picked off the ones in the back with his crossbow. The hooded figure made a break for a door at the back of the room. Lorne followed it and tackled it from behind.

"Wesley!" he called, straining to hold the figure down.

Wesley crossed the room, even as Angel dusted the last of the vampires attacking him and turned to help Fred and Cordelia, who had been separated from Gunn in the melee. Wes tried the handle on the door, and, upon discovering it was locked, set against it with his shoulder. Gunn caught up with Lorne and knocked the hooded figure unconscious with the butt of his axe, freeing Lorne to join Wesley.

Hannah was screaming and sobbing, asking over and over for the voices to be silent. She thrashed about on the floor making an astonishing amount of movement for someone whose wrists and ankles were tied together.

"Hold her still," said Wesley, prepping the needle. "We'll untie her after I've finished."

As gently as he could, Lorne held Hannah in place, absently singing softly in her ear. It seemed to calm her slightly, reducing her cries to whimpers and moans. Angel, Gunn, Fred and Cordelia came into the room as Wesley took Hannah's arm and injected her. Discarding the needle and drawing his knife, Wes cut the ropes at Hannah's feet and arms, and helped Lorne carry her out of the basement, following the others to the street.

"See, this is why my crew used a truck," said Gunn, not quite able to conceal the humour in his voice as he looked at the five-passenger car.

Angel glowered, and then tossed him the keys. Wesley helped Lorne arrange Hannah in the back seat, and then held the door for Fred. Cordelia got in the passenger side.

"Do you have money for a taxi?" she asked sweetly.

"Come back for us Gunn," Angel said, ignoring her altogether. "Wes and I will have a closer look at the lawyer, or what ever he was."

Wesley was pretty sure he heard Cordelia laughing as Gunn drove away.

* * * * *

A.N. It caused me no end of amusement to discover that 'weensy' is accepted by my spellchecker, and 'eensy' is not. 'The Eensy Weensy Spider' is a folk song, 'O Canada' is my national anthem, 'You Took the Words Right Out of My Mouth' is by Meatloaf, 'Love Will Keep Us Together' is by Neil Sedaka, and 'Hallelujah' is originally by Leonard Cohen.