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Ray groaned in pain, holding his head. "You okay there man?" Gerard asked, giving his friend a sympathetic rub on the back.

Ray slowly shook his head. "Drank...too mu...ugh..."

Gerard sighed. "You know, getting drunk...doesn't make anything better. It amplifies your emotions. It's making you feel worse Ray."

"I know...but it makes it go away for a while." Ray grunted, getting to his feet.

"Are you up to recording? We can get someone e--"

"I'm fine." Ray growled, shoving past his friend and digging around in the tiny on-bus refrigerator.

He pulled out a beer, twisted off the cap, and started drinking.

&&&*&

"Leaving." Rayne whispered. It was always a habit for her to whisper whenever she left her house. She knew no one would hear her, but she always hoped someone might.

She strapped on her helmet, revving the engine of her dirtbike to life. Affectionately named Joshua, the bike sputtered before roaring to life. She sighed. The starter is clogged again. I'll have to clean it once I get to work.

&&&*&

"Come on Ray!" Bob called in exasperation, dragging his slightly-less-than-sober friend out of the bus.

"Bu--wazzin't done!" Ray protested, sounding to Bob strangely like Vito from Viva La Bam.

"Yeah? I don't care." Bob replied curtly, shoving Ray into the studio.

"Ooo! Geitar!" Ray hiccupped, his fascination caught by his own guitar on its stand.

"Jesus motherfuck, guys! We've gotta' do something!" Frank hissed as Ray started making strange noises to himself. "It’s obvious that the amount of alcohol he's consuming is unhealthy!"

"We've got no choice." Gerard said sadly. "We need to get a replacement, at least a replacement vocalist."

"Where the hell are we gonna' find someone with the same range as Ray?!" Mikey asked.

A stage tech walking by caught their conversation, and proceeded to introduce himself. "I'm John. I couldn't help but overhear your problem. My twin sister Rayne works here as a fill-in vocalist, and she's pretty mean on the guitar as well. Want me to ask her to step in?" he asked quietly.

"Oh thank God, yes!" Gerard said feverently.

John nodded with a small smile, running out.

&&&*&

"Rayne!!" John hollered, running into his sister's office. Rayne had just gotten her hair out of her helmet, and whirled.

"What! John, don't try to kill me please!" she said rapidly. John raised an eyebrow.

"Look, I got some news. Some dude's band needs your help in studio three. Make it snappy!" he ordered, ushering her out the door.

&&&*&

John returned shortly with...another guy? "Th-this is them! Have fun." he panted, unclipping a walkie-talkie from his belt and running off again.

Gerard stared at the young man in confusion. The young man stuck out his hand.

"Names Rayne Carsade. Rayne or Rai will do. Do you have a CD I can listen to so I know what I'm up against?"

It's a girl!! Gerard thought in shock as Ray managed to tumble over Bob's bass drum. Frank handed Rayne his iPod, playing her a song or two from The Black Parade.

"So we'd need your help on basically the whole album. We've already wasted so much time recording..." Gerard trailed off, wringing his hands.

"Who's the norm here for music writing? And who am I filling in for?" Rayne asked coolly.

Everyone pointed to the man in danger of snapping his guitar neck. Rayne snorted, clearly unimpressed. She walked over to Ray, and quickly snatched the guitar from his fumbling fingers.

"Hey! Whuzzat--wasn't--"

Rayne ignored Ray, re-tuning the guitar. "So. " she said curtly, talking to Ray now. "You're the one who writes the music, the one with poetry and passion?"

Ray nodded slowly.

"You're the almighty guitarist, the original, the best?"

Ray nodded again. Rayne smirked.

"Then why is it in House of Wolves there's a chord progression that's been used in swing music for over sixty years?"

The room went silent as Ray stared at Rayne. And she stared back.

"I don...whutchu'...?" Ray asked, slurring his words.

Rayne sighed in exasperation, handing Ray's guitar off to Frank. She grabbed a bottle of water from Mikey, and without pause, poured it over Ray's head. Ray leaped unsteadily to his feet, shaking his head and sputtering.

"You, my friend, are the reason why bands dissolve. One person thinks their issue is soo much more important than anyone else's." Rayne snarled. "What did you guys come in?" she asked.

"Bus." Bob replied. Rayne nodded her thanks, turning back to the partially damp guitarist.

"Get into that bus, and get sober. Don't come back in until you are." Rayne ordered, her voice deadly low.

Ray huffed, but did as he was told.

"Whoa." Mikey said, impressed. Rayne shrugged.

"There's always some drunken idiot in the group. Otherwise, people wouldn't need me."

"Well, I think that's what Ray really needed." Frank said. "Someone to whack him upside the head."