The noise was endless. The ghosts themselves made no sounds, no shrieking or gibbering like they do in the movies. No, they were too intend on destruction to bother vocalizing with their fellows. Or perhaps they didn't require voices any longer to communicate. When the sounds of their assault reached the second floor, we flinched. The third, we prayed.

We huddled together, as if nearness could provide comfort, or crowding together, making ourselves smaller, could make us invisible to our foes. If we could have melted into a safe nothingness just then, I think we would have. Although Scully and Mulder were far from what I considered friends, their solid presence next to me was vaguely reassuring. Solidarity in the face of impending death, perhaps.

One large crash made Scully and I both jump, so Mulder, still sitting between us, threw his arms around our waists and drew us closer to him. Neither of us objected as we cuddled against his sides. Despite his terror, he gave us a tense smile. " I'd be enjoying this if I wasn't certain that we're going to die." He sighed. I decided he probably hadn't gone to seminary school after all, but the thought didn't hold the amusement it would under other circumstances.

Markie whined quietly, almost as if he understood Mulder's remark. Probably he just sensed that all three of his adults were scared out of their minds. I'm sure we weren't behaving in a reassuring manner.

I spent a lot of time looking out those windows that were all around us. The storm let up a little, but the moon stubbornly stayed in the sky, refusing to gibe up its rule over the heavens. I stared at it, feeling betrayed. One of those fools who idealized the moon, doodling it, writing poems about it...the moon, then, it simply affirmed that it was still night, and still dangerous. I feared deeply that I'd seen my last sun in ignorance, not knowing that it should be appreciated. I'd wed my allegiance to the wrong celestial body.

As we sat there I was keenly aware of the molding on the door digging into the small of my back. That didn't seem right. You shouldn't be sore while waiting to be ripped limb from limb by vengeful ghosts. I wished I had gold to give them; maybe that would appease them so they'd go away. I wondered if it would hurt. Not liking the sight of blood, I hoped it'd be quick if it was going to be messy.

Mostly, I thought about everything I'd be leaving behind if we didn't survive. And not even important things like friends and family. I couldn't get my mind off the trivial. I'd never see how my favorite shows turned out, I'd never get the computer game I was looking forward to... and so many stories left unfinished. Some of them had readers who'd be unhappy for a while, assuming I simply abandoned them. Then there were the ones no one yet knew about to mourn. Those were even sadder orphans. None of the people I knew online would ever know what happened to me, since there was no one who knew any of my message board haunts that knew me in person. I should have left instructions in my will for informing those people. I should have a will.

Even after Jason's untimely death I thought 26 was too young for a real will. Being that fatalistic just seemed to be courting disaster. Not that it seemed like a valid fear now...all I'd done was to draw up a document leaving Markie to my parents if I died first.

Poor Markie. Would the ghosts spare him? No one should die at a year old-

Almost as if realizing my thoughts were getting very maudlin, Scully spoke up suddenly. " I'm sorry." She said, raising her voice slightly to be heard over a particularly jarring crash from below. Probably one of the wardrobes or bedstands from the sound. I realized she'd been looking at me while making her apology.

" What for?" I asked.

" For saying this wasn't going to be dangerous." She answered miserably. " I hate it when people who work with us get killed."

" When?" I repeated, wide-eyed. " Does this happen often?"

The expression on her face during the next lightening flash suggested that she was making a mental tally. It didn't take long, which was slightly reassuring. "Very rarely."

I nodded wearily. One of the rare few, lucky me.

" Right." Mulder spoke up. " The body count is much higher amongst our friends and family than colleagues."

If that was an attempt to make me feel better, it was failing miserably.

I began to wonder if they were going to get all weepy, then, since the apology seemed an admission that they honestly didn't think we were going to get out of this. Perhaps they'd get all melodramatic like people in the movies do when on the brink of death. More apologies, thank yous for being in their lives, confessions of love even, and all that touchy-feely crap. If they were, they might even kiss. Since I couldn't leave the room, I'd have to make do with adverting my eyes. I wrinkled my nose at the thought, desperately hoping they were married to other people and just hadn't gotten around to mentioning it.

Maybe that was the case, or maybe not, either way they didn't say or do anything untoward to each other, not even exchange meaningful looks. Unfortunately, the lack of speaking made our room deadly quiet. All the better to hear the ghosts as they continued their rampage.

When the ghosts got to the last room, Markie wasn't the only one who felt like whimpering in fear. If I had been alone, I would have. Having Mulder and Scully there helped me hang on to my dignity, if barely. All of the sudden the ghosts were not silent.

They howled angrily, and so loudly we could tell that they were all in the hallway below us. Markie sobbed, his face buried against my shoulder. I didn't bother trying to soothe him, like I would when he was normally fearful, but there was no way to do that and be honest. It was not going to be ok. I felt like crying too.

All three of us cringed when the first of the footsteps started on the stairs. They were coming. Instead of howling unearthly, their noises sounded....happy. As if they were anticipating something they'd long look forward to. There was a rush of heavy steps, and they were coming right for us.

I began to pray. I could hear Scully doing so aloud, but Mulder was silent, and his gaze out the windows too stony for a plead for divinity. In a moment of clarity, I understood perfectly that his relationship with God was far more distant than mine was, and that his disillusionment with religion must have been far greater. For a moment I pitied him because he could seek no comfort in the way Scully and I were attempting to. Even though I was pretty sure it wouldn't help, I slipped back into my childhood teachings, and begged God or whoever it was keeping watch to keep us from harm. And all of the sudden it seemed to work.

The footfalls, the excited whine, it all stopped. There was no sound at all. The three of us looked at each other in amazement. We were alive, we were safe. I almost released a breath of relief.

But before I could the doorknob rattled.