Maggie turned her head from side to side, scrutinising her new skin colour in the mirror.
"Did you hear that?" the Doctor's voice wafted up from the main console room.
"Hear what?"
"There's a KNOCK! At the DOOR!" he yelled gleefully, "Should I answer? It might even be him!"
"Wait there, for god's sakes!"
"NO! We don't use that word in vain any more, Miss Cambell. Too much offense caused, belieeeve me!"
"Gah - for - Pete's sakes!" she scrambled down the corridor and descended the steps, scowling, "If I don't have fun on this trip you and I aren't going to be on good terms. Not for a long time. This whole religion thing is old already."
"Old, yes. As old as Time." he retorted, "Now check who's outside, and don't let them see in here! Who knows where we've landed."

Knotting her bedsheet mantle around one shoulder, and adjusting her headress more firmly over her plaited hair (the Doctor had really gone to town on his research), she tweaked the door open a tiny crack, and then poked her head out warily.
They were in a desert. A great big bloody huge desert that went on forever and ever.

"Hello?"

Something blurred rushed at her and she screamed aloud.
"What? What is it?" the Doctor jumped to attention behind her.
The figure that had attacked Maggie slumped to the floor, one hand still scraping at the blue wood.
"No!" it screeched, fairly frothing at the mouth, "Away from me, Satan!"

"It's a man." the Doctor observed, following her outside as they stood looking down upon the pitiable, half-starved creature.
The strange male twitched and kicked and moaned.
"It is written - Worship - the Lord, your God... and - serve him - only!"
"He's possessed." Maggie cried from behind her hands, eyes wide and tearful, "Poor, poor thing - what's happening to him?"
"He's fighting it off, look. Look at him."
The man writhed where he lay, but his moans were quieter.

The Doctor grasped him by both shoulders and shook him gently.
"Let go of him, whatever you are, understand? Leave him, now!" he growled, "Fight, come on! Fight it out!"
The man opened his eyes and stared straight back at him, his body relaxing as he exhaled.
"I do not need you - to tell me, that I should reject Satan." he answered slowly, "I have my own strength."
He inhaled deeply, and then sighed out again, eyelids closing over once more.
A wind circled around them like an angry blast from a beast, and suddenly everything was still, including the stranger.

"Help me get him up! He needs water." the Doctor leaned down to take one of the man's arms.
Maggie obeyed, and together they began to drag him into the TARDIS.
The next thing Maggie registered was that she was on the floor, and that the Doctor was yelling at her.
"What is it? What's the matter?"
"Um. I don't know. Nothing." she struggled to her feet again, bewildered.
He looked at her suspiciously.
"Did you feel anything just then? Anything unusual?"
"No. I was just - here."
"Hm. Maybe you've inhaled too much tanning spray. Come along, then."

They lay him down as soon as they got through the doors.
"Is he conscious?"
"Hopefully not. Get him some water. And something to eat - nothing modern."
Maggie tore up the steps to the corridor, and from there ran to the kitchen-pantry.
She froze as she was reaching for the chicken legs and grapes in the fridge. A shiver ran up and down her spine, one, two, three times.
She could feel something - closing in on her. With invisible fingers it caressed her hair, with a hidden smile kissed her cheek.
She rushed to the nearest room with a mirror and stared into it, horror rising like bile in her throat. Her own eyes stared back at her, but - not her eyes - something was there, gazing within her gaze. Even as she stood still and listened to the sound of her racing heart, she could sense it clinging child-like to the back of her mind, settling in... and then -

The Doctor didn't look up as Maggie re-entered the room, preoccupied with reviving their guest who was barely propped up. He took water and then food from her hands, throwing it down the man's throat as quickly as the fellow could manage. He was just conscious.
"Hullo, you." he smiled down at him condescendingly, "Can you tell me your name?"
The man gulped down liquid and sustenance greedily, bent singly on survival.
"Name, please. It's rude to ignore your hosts." he joked.
The stranger said something inaudible.
"Sorry?"
Maggie came closer just in time to hear the words slip from his cracked lips.

"Jesus... Nazareth."

She started.
Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him.

"Doctor." she gasped, "It's him. We've picked him up right at the end of his forty days and nights."
"Sorry?"
"You know! Fasting in the desert, fighting the devil - this is it! This is him."
"Yes, I know it's him, he said so. And just look at him!" he glanced down at the scraggly beard and tangled mane of dark hair, the torn clothes and scratched, bruised limbs, "Isn't he magnificent?"
"I can't believe it." she paced back and forth, barely able to look at the vulnerable figure, "This is real? This is Jesus? And he was really fighting off the - that?... That's real too?"
"He was fighting something. Could have been demonic."
"So what do we do now? We can't just leave him here."
"He said Nazareth."
"I suppose he did."

The Doctor stood up, closed the blue doors steady behind them, and zipped up to the console.
"So... Jesus. Let's get you back to Nazareth."