A/N: After Hal rejects Hatch's offer, he wakes up in the TV studio. This story does not diverge from the canon events from that point. The ritual is attempted, Hal, Tom and Alex awaken as apparent humans, and, as in the Extra scene, Hal discovers that something is very wrong...

No matter what they did, they always ended up in the exact same restaurant with the exact same result.

You know, the usual.

Hal was on the verge of nervous breakdown, but for some reason his friends remained calm, almost cheerful. They looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to announce his new plan, and suddenly he felt a chill. There was something wrong about both of them. Their expressions resembled the people in the crowd.

How could he not have noticed it sooner? Maybe he knew all along, but stubbornly refused to admit it, even to himself, because it would mean that he is all alone in this godforsaken place with no friends or allies. That Alex and Tom were as symbolic as Leo in the forest.

"What's the definition of madness, Tom?"

"Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I seen it on Eggheads." Tom's eyes were dull. They didn't shine with pride like the first time when he said it impressing him.

Hal looked around the room wearily. Nothing ever changed here: the same party of five dining behind them, the same young couple at the corner table, the same waiter willing to serve and the same musician playing the piano.

Wait. That was odd. No one ever played the piano in this restaurant.

He turned to comment on it to Tom, and it was as if fuse went out. But it wasn't just the lights. It was everything. The room was suddenly empty of everyone but him.

"Tom?"

Hal looked around at the silent restaurant, tablecloths rustling as if a stiff breeze had just blown through.

"Alex?"

They were just there. Maybe he hadn't wanted out of the dream enough. Maybe he was stuck in the dream, alone, by himself. Maybe -

The metallic click of a lighter broke his train of thought. He looked, but saw nothing.

"Who's there?"

He walked past tables, past the hostess stand, to the entry door and grabbed the doorknob.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," an unfamiliar man's voice said from behind. Hal turned to see figure, in a tailored suit and slicked back hair, cigarette dangling from his lips.

Hal stared for a moment. "Who are you?"

The man stared down at his suit and clicked his tongue. "I guess I really didn't make much of an impression," he said, grasping the cigarette between his thumb and forefingers. He shrugged and leaned against hostess stand. "I don't mind, to be honest. I never liked the attention." He took a drag and straightened his tie. "Nothing for my trouble, eh?"

Hal shook his head slowly. "I've met a lot of people in my life." He eyed him up and down. "Did I… did I kill you?"

The man laughed, good and long, and sighed. "No," he said. "Wow." He walked over to Hal and circled him until they were face-to-face. "Annie said your sense of humor was kind of… unintentional."

Hal looked confused. "Annie?"

It was like a lightbulb went on inside Hal's head. He leaned forward.

"You can't be."

The man shrugged.

"No," Hal said. "John Mitchell?" He thought for a moment and shook his head. "This is a ludicrous dream." He pushed him aside and went for the door again.

Mitchell blocked him. "Not so fast," he said, his back to the door.

"Why would Hatch put you, of all people, in my dream?"

Mitchell crossed his arms. "What's this 'dream' stuff? This isn't a dream, Hal."

"And why are you dressed like that?"

Mitchell smoothed his sleeve."Don't you remember? Havana, 1952?"

Hal blinked. "The Master Plan."

"Master of Stupidity plan, more like. Who would have thought it would have ended up so close to nuclear war? Not exactly the apocalypse the vampires were going for."

Hal's lips curved into an almost smile. "No."

"Not that you were around for that part."

"No," Hal said. "I was living clean."

"I heard about that. Impressive."

Hal shook his head. "You were just a kid."

"Barely 55."

"No sense of decorum."

"Oh, I was the king of decorum."

Hal laughed. "I'm not sure that word means what you think it means."

Mitchell laughed, too.

It was strange. Hal could almost feel the balmy air, hear the music in the background. He could almost see Herrick sitting at the table across from him. Mitchell had stood in the background. For his notorious reputation, he had been little more than Herrick's toady then. He hardly fit with the image he had of John Mitchell - not as either a ruthless killer or as the man Annie had loved.

Mitchell sighed. "The thing is, Hal, you're up."

"Up."

"It's your turn. Not everyone gets this."

"My turn?"

"You have to look at this as a gift," Mitchell said. "You're here because you defied the devil. Everything that he wanted to stop happened."

Hal considered. "But he freed himself. He got more powerful."

"What, because of you and Tom fighting? Hal, there was a point where George and I were ready to kill each other. Nina hated me. In the same town, just a few months before."

"It must have strengthened him -"

"It was a trick. It didn't matter if you and Tom fought. All he wanted was you. To undo your recruitment."

"But that doesn't make any sense. I chose not to die, and now you're saying I died anyway?"

"You still had to do the trinity ritual, obviously."

Hal shook his head. "Oh, that's obvious."

"It was the last step."

"But it didn't work."

"Of course it worked!"

Hal's eyes grew wide.

"You and Tom and Alex… it worked."

Hal thought for a moment. "But that means… We died?"

Mitchell nodded.

"Alex and Tom?"

"They're perfectly safe. Death isn't the worst thing that can happen, Hal. But life is important. You can't rip people from their lives. So before you can see them, you have to face the people whose lives you took, without any right or justification. All of them. You have to look every man, woman and child you killed in the eye, and you have to feel remorse for what you've done to them. When a soul is ripped away like that, they feel pain. They feel fear. Do you remember what you saw when you were murdered?"

Hal shook his head. "I've blocked it out."

"Unblock it." Mitchell moved toward him.

Hal stepped back. His mind was racing. He remembered nothing. No pain or fear, it was more like… a victory.

"I wasn't murdered," Hal said, his back now against the wall.

"Every recruitment is murder," Mitchell said.

"No," Hal said. "I welcomed it. I wanted it. There was no duress. I wasn't afraid of death - the real, proper death from my injuries. It was my choice."

"Then they'll just have to show you."

Hal took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can do it."

Mitchell shrugged. "Then you'll spend eternity in oblivion. This is a gift, Hal."

"If what you're saying is true, I saved the world, why should I have to -"

"Don't be so fucking arrogant," Mitchell said. "You want the fastlane? You want it all forgiven out of hand?"

"I am sorry. I regret -"

"Don't tell me. Your regret doesn't matter to me. I'm just some guy you didn't see as worthy enough to shine your shoes in 1952. The guy you didn't think was worthy of Annie."

"You did essentially rip her heart out."

Mitchell looked up in exasperation. "I've already been through this, Hal. I've faced my demons."

"And you got an afterlife, is that what you're saying? And you… did you get to be with her? With Annie?"

"This isn't about me."

"Why else would they send you?"

Mitchell laughed. "I'm not doing anyone's bidding, Hal. I'm trying to help you. This has to come from you, it's not a game of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire,' pass this level and move ahead. It doesn't matter to me if you stay stuck here in an endless loop for eternity. You've earned it, even if your child-murder did set off the chain reaction that stopped the Age of the Vampires. The world is complicated like that."

"And I can be with Alex? And Tom and Leo and Pearl?"

"You don't get it. It's not up to me."

They stood in silence for a few moments, before, as if someone had flipped a switch, the dining room filled with the sounds of life, of clinking glasses and chatter. Hal moved cautiously toward the sounds. The small round tables had been replaced with one long one. He caught his breath at the sight of Alex and Tom at one end, as if he hadn't seen them only a few minutes before. Next to Tom was a thin, smiling man Hal had never seen before, seated across from a couple with a baby. Hal squinted - was that Eve? Leo and Pearl were there, too. Annie, sitting with her back facing them, turned with smiling eyes.

"Mitchell!" she called, her voice echoing.

Hal stepped toward them, but every step moved them farther away. He looked at Mitchell, whose hair seemed to have grown several inches, and who seemed to have no problem approaching the table.

"They'll wait," Mitchell said. While the rest of the table appeared completely oblivious of him, Annie smiled, her eyes meeting Hal's reassuringly.

Hal suddenly felt as if he could do anything.

The door knob was cold. Through the window, he saw a clear Barry afternoon. He looked back once more at his friends. His friends. He pushed the door open slowly, and stepped out. It was no clear Barry afternoon, just a long row of doors in a bright, clean, antiseptic corridor.

"Are you ready, Hal?"

He turned to see Rachel. Cutler's Rachel, looking as fresh and beautiful as the day he killed her.

No one said it would be easy.