DISCLAIMER: And this is the time in the story when we pedeconference. For those of you who don't watch 24, "pedeconferencing" is when characters walk while delivering important exposition. And with all the walking and talking that Sara and Shaun are about to do, this imaginary hotel must be massive.

"Well, that was a very interesting dinner," Emma said, entering their room and tossing her handbag onto the dresser.

"You're telling me," Shaun mumbled, closing the door.

"Lady Chatham was lovely, wasn't she? Amazing, to have all that wealth and status and yet still be such a down-to-earth person."

"Yes, she was very nice."

"Bit weird to see one of your old acquaintances from London all the way up here, wasn't it?"

"Hmm?"

"Helen whats-her-name. With you two being so close and all, I assume she would have mentioned that she'd be here."

"We're not close," Shaun asserted.

"You seemed to be giving her an awful lot of attention during dinner."

"That was just because I haven't seen her in a long time. I was surprised."

"I suppose she's another ghost from your past that I'm not allowed to ask about."

"What does that mean?"

"You always get so secretive about your past, Shaun. I know you went through some horrible things on Z-Day but so did I. So did everyone else. I'm just asking you to open up. To share with me and not keep shutting me out. I am your girlfriend, after all."

Shaun sighed, not wanting a repeat of this same conversation they'd been having for months. "I just don't like to talk about the past, Emma. That's all. I'm not trying to shut you out."

Emma placed a few pillows against the headboard, laid down on the bed and leaned up against them. "I asked your friend Helen about Sara."

"You what?" he gasped.

"While you were in the loo, I asked her about Sara. You always get all quiet and mopey when I ask about her, so I figured I'd try someone else."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. Said she'd never heard of her."

Shaun decided that he needed to put an end to this line of questioning. After all, this was one thing he could be completely truthful about, in a somewhat deceptive way. "Emma, there's something I need to tell you."

He sat down beside her on the bed. "Sara was…well, she was very important to me. But she died about a month ago. I just had a hard time coming to terms with it. But I think I'm okay with it now. I've had time to really process what her death means to me, y'know. And I think I'm ready to move on with my life." He took her hand and looked at her to see if this new information was being absorbed.

"Good, I'm glad," Emma said with a warm smile. "We can finally toss all that stuff."

"What?"

"Those toys and things you were saving for her. Unless you want to send them to her family or something. Actually, I bet you could sell them for a lot on eBay."

"That's all you're concerned about? Decluttering the house?" He stood and walked away toward the window.

"Well, Shaun, what do you expect? You tell me she's dead and you're ready to move on with your life. I'm a part of your life. And I could be a bigger part of your life if you'd actually let me move in with you. We've been together for three months, we need to take the next step."

"Sorry, who's dictating where and when to take these steps? I mean, Liz didn't move in with me till after we'd been together for three years."

"Oh, now it's time to talk about Liz, is it? My other favorite name out of your little black book."

"I just wasn't aware that there was some timeline we were supposed to be following," he innocently protested.

"Come on, Shaun. You can't expect me to wait around forever while you decide whether or not you're ready to be in a grown-up relationship. If I don't do something, I'm going to be the only unmarried, childless woman in my group of friends and I'm going to have to sit through all of their weddings and baby showers while they look at me with condescension and pity because my DJ-slash-salesclerk boyfriend spends all of his money on video games instead of a ring."

He placed his hands on his hips and regarded her with disbelief. Without a word, he shook his head and walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?" she demanded. "Shaun, I'm not finished!"

"Yes, you are," he declared, slamming the door behind him.

After returning to her room, Sara changed into another ensemble of all black. Not to fit her mood, really, but to continue her exploration of the hotel's lower floors. She made a quick stop at the bathroom sink to splash water on her face. Drying off with a towel, she looked up into the mirror to see Will's ghost standing behind her. She cried out and clutched the sink for balance. "Will you please stop doing that!" she berated.

"Sorry."

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," he replied with a grin.

"You really need to get a hobby," she said, tossing the towel at his face.

"I have a hobby."

"Voyeurism is not a hobby, Will," she said, leaving the bathroom as Will followed her. "Not in life and certainly not in death. Is there a particular reason you're haunting me tonight?"

"It's not a ghost, Sara," he declared.

"Julian seems to think it is." She sat down on the edge of the bed and slid her black boots onto her feet.

"No offense, but your new handler doesn't know the difference between a Trelfall demon and a trumpet. Look, the ghosts around this place...they're sad, they're tortured, but they're not violent. They've stolen some things…"

"Petty larceny."

"They've broken some windows and doors…"

"Breaking and entering."

"At worst, they've shoved someone down the stairs."

"Assault and battery."

"Believe me, Sara, the ghosts around here aren't capable of this kind of violence," he protested, sitting down beside her. "You need to check the indexes for demons, hellbeasts, portal-jumpers. You said you traced a major psychic power surge to this place."

"Yeah."

"The kind of power surge that only happens…"

"When someone decides to open a dimensional portal and summon up a hellbeast to do its bidding," she completed. "Wonderful."

She opened her trunk and transferred some sharp weapons and blunt objects to a messenger bag. Then she slung her trusty crossbow across her shoulder.

"Why are you wearing your skulking clothes?" he inquired.

"I wasn't aware these were my skulking clothes."

"An all black ensemble equals skulking."

"I have no intention of skulking."

"I suppose you were planning to lurk then?"

"Well, now that you mention it, skulking sounds more fun."

"Seriously, where are you off to now?" Will asked.

"The cellar. That's the last place Tara was seen. If it is a demon, I need to figure out a way to track it."

"That part of the house was the old parsonage. There's an underground tunnel leading to the nearby church, so that the priests could travel without fear of bandits."

"Is this common knowledge?"

"There have been so many changes to this building since the 1600s. I doubt anyone knows, even the innkeeper."

"Secret tunnels are never a good thing, Will."

"Maybe you should take some back-up."

"Julian's busy."

"That's not who I meant."

"I know who you meant, that's why I'm ignoring you," she said, going to the door. "And stay out of the mini-fridge while I'm gone. I do have to pay for all that stuff, y'know."

She closed the door of her room, locked it, and turned to walk straight into Shaun. Reflexively, he grabbed her arms and she tried to steady herself. As their eyes met, he quickly removed his hands.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"What do you want, Shaun?" she huffed.

"Peace, love, understanding," he joked.

She glared at him. "I don't have time for this."

She started to walk away but Shaun grabbed her arm. "No, no, no. Wait! We need to talk, Sara. Or Helen or whatever name you're going by."

"I'm kinda' busy right now. Shouldn't you be in bed with your girlfriend?"

Shaun sighed and hung his head. He felt the need to tell her the truth, but that didn't mean he had to see the smug grin on her face when he told her. "We sort of had a fight. Try to restrain your unbridled joy."

"Shaun, I am not that cruel," she gasped. "But was it about me? You'd tell me if it was about me, wouldn't you?"

"It was not about you," he stated firmly. "Not directly, anyway. Where are you off to?"

"A slayer's work is never done, Shaun. Surely you haven't forgotten your training already."

"Well, I see you're loaded for bear," he said, noticing the bag o' weapons and the crossbow. "Or a really big demon. Are you going off to fight some demon on your own?"

"It's strictly recon work. And for your information, I was doing this gig by myself a long time before I met you."

"I'm not letting you go by yourself."

"Fine. I might need live bait, anyway." She started to walk off down the hallway, and he reluctantly followed. "How did you find me?" she asked, over her shoulder.

"I saw the name 'Cordelia Summers' on the register. Not exactly subtle."

"Yeah, well, I was never any good at pseudonyms."

"Sara, I really think we should talk."

"Hmm, talking…not exactly my strong point."

"You were certainly doing a lot of talking at dinner," he sarcastically remarked.

"Well, that's what happens when I'm confronted by a former flame and his perfect new girlfriend."

"Really? I thought that was what happened when you'd had too much wine."

"Yeah, that might have had something to do with it," she agreed. "But I'll have you know that I was in the middle of interrogating that woman when you and Bitchy McWhinesAlot showed up."

"Sorry, is there a reason you're calling my girlfriend 'Bitchy McWhinesAlot'?"

"No, just a name I decided to confer on her," she replied dismissively. "Anyway, you show up in your navy blue shirt and you know how that impairs my mental capacity. So all of that, coupled with a generous amount of Rioja, left me feeling very defensive and catty and I don't know, jealous? Honestly, being in love with you has turned me into such a…a girl."

"What did you say?"

Sara stopped short when her brain decided to notify her of what her mouth had just said. "Nothing," she replied casually.

"Did you just say you were in love with me?"

"Well, if I did say something vaguely like that, then I take it back."

"Take it back? You can't take it back!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's out there now."

"Fine, it's out there. Alert the press!" She started to descend the stairs to the foyer and he tried to keep up with her.

"How do you expect me to react to that?" he asked.

"In whatever way you feel is appropriate, Shaun."

"Appropriate?"

"Okay, I'll make it multiple choice." She stopped at the bottom of the stairs to face him. "Your choices are a) 'I love you back' or b) 'That's nice to know' or c) 'Let's just be friends.' Any of those work for you?"

"How…what…" he stammered.

"I'll assume you chose D, or none of the above." She started moving again, toward a corridor with dark wood paneling underneath the staircase. "So next question: How did you meet her?"

"What?"

"How did you meet Emma? Because she's obviously not Russian, and I'm so not believing the whole toaster story."

"Why not?"

"Because that whole 'product quality assurance' line is such a lame pick-up, even for you."

"All right, fine. One night, about three months ago, I was DJ'ing at a club. Emma came in with a bunch of friends, pre-wedding hen party, that kind of thing. She managed to slur a few requests at me and at one point, she sort of passed out and hit her head on the turntable. I was afraid she had a concussion or something, so I handed over my duties to another DJ and took her to the hospital. When she woke up, she asked me out and I thought why not?"

"So this woman had a head injury and was doped up on painkillers when she decided to ask you out?" Sara concluded, standing in front of the door to the cellar. "That explains a lot."

"Oh, and I suppose you were completely sober and clear-headed the night you kissed me outside that warehouse?"

"What? Wait, you kissed me!"

"I don't recall you putting up a struggle."

"Riley, you do not want to pick a fight with me right now."

"I wasn't."

"Because you said you weren't going to fight with me anymore," she reminded.

"I'm not! I was just making an observation. I keep trying to be sincere, and every time I do, you throw up this wall of sarcasm at me."

"Hey, I need my sarcasm. It's like my security blanket," she asserted, opening the cellar door and starting to descend the dark, cold staircase. She flipped on a flashlight to chase away the shadows.

"And here I thought those Star Wars action figures were your security blanket."

"They used to be. And by the way, your new girlfriend told me how she tried to chuck them out."

"You'll be happy to know I didn't let her."

"I'd be happier if they were properly displayed in the front room."

"They are displayed. They have their own shelf on a bookcase."

"Yeah, in your bedroom."

"So?"

"Not many people go in your bedroom, Shaun," she explained, as if she were stating the obvious. "They can't be properly appreciated. Especially if Miss Pretty Pink Princess is now calling the decorating shots."

"Okay, a) she is not a pretty pink princess, and b) she does not call the decorating shots."

"Are your DJ posters still up on the walls?"

"No, but…"

"Is there a slipcover on the couch?"

"Yes, but that was Liz's idea…"

"Are there curtains, shower or otherwise, in your house with flower or cute animal motifs?"

Shaun paused in silence, doing an internal inventory of his home. "All right, yes, there's one with fish on it in the guest bedroom."

"I rest my case."

"Look, I admit that Emma has made some changes to the flat, but they were all mutually agreed upon improvements."

"Well, I must say I admire your ability to acknowledge that you're whipped."

"I am not whipped," he countered.

"Living in denial doesn't help anyone, sweetie."

"And you would know about living in denial."

She came to an abrupt stop and turned on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You work it out," he said in a low voice as he walked past her and continued down the stairs.

Completing their descension in tense silence, they reached the bottom of the staircase and found themselves surrounded by racks upon racks of wine.

"Would you mind enlightening me as to what we're looking for?" Shaun inquired.

"Shaun, you don't work for the Council anymore."

"Look, I'm here now. You might as well tell me what kind of gruesome, imminent death awaits me in this cellar."

Sara closed her eyes and exhaled. She knew it was a bad idea to bring Shaun in on this. She hadn't done it intentionally. But then again, every moment he was with her was a moment that he wasn't with Emma. And she couldn't help but derive the tiniest bit of joy from that.

"Okay, here's the 4-1-1. Last month, the Council tracked some sort of temporal anomaly to this location."

"Kinda' like a disturbance in the Force?"

"Exactly. We then learned that three women from this area have disappeared over the last few weeks. All young, all connected to this hotel. We're still trying to figure out if the two events are related. The most recent victim was last seen on her way to the cellar. If we can't find her here, maybe we can at least find a trail of whatever took her."

"A what or a who?"

"We're definitely dealing with a what. We've only found one body, and a person couldn't do that kind of damage."

"And it's not a vampire."

"No. Julian thinks it's a ghost, but I'm leaning toward demon at this point."

"Julian? Who's Julian?"

She gave him a smug smirk. "The new man in my life."

"Hang on! How come you're so upset about me being with Emma when you've gone and found someone else to shag? Hypocritical much?"

"Julian is my new handler, you twat!" she explained. "Jealous much?"

"No," he pouted. "So what kind of demon are we talking about?"

"I have no idea," she said, examining a dark stain on the floor near the champagne bottles. "It could be anything. So just to be on the safe side, should we meet up with this thing, don't look into its eyes, don't let it touch you, and definitely don't let it drive a spike into your head and extract the fluid from your pineal gland."

"They can do that?"

"There was one in Madagascar back in the 1800s. No sightings in this country so far, but there's a first time for everything."

He paused and looked at her as the absurdity of the current situation seemed to suddenly strike him. "Y'know, I've missed our morbid and slightly terrifying conversations."

She smiled at him. "Yeah, me, too." Then she noticed his gaze move to something over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"I might be crazy, but I think there's a light coming from over there."

They moved to the other side of the room. There was a faint glow coming from underneath a section of wall. Together, they moved the wine rack aside to expose the brick wall behind it.

"Secret passage?" Shaun suggested.

"I read that there used to be a tunnel leading from this part of the house to a nearby church," Sara explained. "But the church hasn't been in use for years."

Sara tried pushing on the bricks to find some way to open the door. One of them gave way, and the door within the brick wall opened. A narrow, barrel-shaped corridor illuminated by lit torches stretched far into the shadows.

"Clearly, someone has been using this tunnel," he surmised. "Ladies first."

"No, I insist. Age before beauty."

"Hey, you're the trained slayer. You're supposed to lead the charge."

"Oh, don't be such a big girl's blouse. It's just a foreboding tunnel leading into a dark, shadowy abyss."

Shaun threw up his hands. "All right, I'll go first. But you get to explain to Emma how you got me killed." He grabbed one of the torches and started down the tunnel.

"Yeah, that'll greatly improve her opinion of me," she muttered, following his lead.