DISCLAIMER: David Boreanaz is in a new show. And he's gonna' be walking around in daylight and stuff. It'll be weird. But fun. I hope. Shouldn't I have learned by now not to get attached to any Fox series that doesn't have the words "American" or "idol" in it?

Anyway, on with the story…

Inside Room 32 in the minutes before Shaun's failed rescue attempt, Sara wiped the tears from her eyes. She got to her feet and went for the door. "Tell Pru I've seen enough."

"That's not how it works," Ryland sighed, crossing his arms.

"Really?" She knocked on the adjoining wall. "Oy, Sabrina! Enough with the light show."

"You can't go back out that door."

"Why not?"

"Because this is a…one-way spiritual journey, shall we say? And you haven't reached your destination yet."

She turned to face him. "How about we call it what it really is? A distraction. And a crudely obvious one at that. The Velkor demon—now that was a unique and effective distraction."

Ryland laughed dismissively. "Pru has better things to do than play mind games with you and your little friend."

"Well, you could have fooled me, what with the surround sound traumatic flashback. Actually, you know what this reminds me of?" Sara laughed, and laughed heartily, such that Ryland's ghost seemed a little perturbed. "Ever seen The Exorcist II?"

"Erm…no."

"I thought not. You probably haven't seen the first one, either, for which you should definitely stew in the cauldrons of Hell for all eternity," she declared, perching on the arm of antique chair, "but that's beside the point. Anyway…it sucks."

"Is that a fact?" Ryland replied, leaning against a chaise-lounge, semi-intrigued.

"It is a fact," Sara continued. "And I won't begin to list the reasons why it sucks, because we'll be here all night and I've got a full dance card tonight. But here's one of the major reasons: toward the end, there's this scene where Father…oh, I can't remember his name, it's Richard Burton and he was probably drunk when he took the part. Anyway, he has a vision of the events in the first film, during the exorcism when Father Merrin was in the bedroom with Regan alone. We see her attempting to seduce him with all her Pazuzu-y evil and he has a heart attack and dies, but see in the first film…all we got was Father Merrin dead on the floor when Damien comes back in the room, and the demon giggling at the body."

Ryland furrowed his brow. "Fascinating."

"Yeah, it's creepy as hell. But see, the power of that moment is completely cancelled out by this flashback sequence that makes no sense, and that's where the movie ceases being just bad and becomes absolutely vile. Because the mystery of what happened behind that closed door was the entire point. Sometimes, Malc? Truth isn't in the details."

Sara walked up to the ghost and pounded him in his dusty chest. "It's in here. And while I am impressed, points for accuracy and emotional poignancy and all, I don't give a shit what actually happened when you and that vampiric fuckhead killed Will. You took my friend from me, that's all that matters."

"So the year-long guilt trip that you've been on, that was just a phase?"

"Yeah, sure, I blamed myself for what happened to Will. But he didn't; he forgave me. And he wouldn't forgive me if I let my emotions get in the way of my job. There's no way I'm letting Pru give Mad Maggie an all-access pass to this world, and there's definitely no way I'm going to let you of all people stop me."

"The wheels have already been set in motion. You honestly think that little fire poker is going to stop a vengeful spirit as powerful as Margaret Winfield?"

"Were you this annoying when you were alive?" she inquired.

"More so, actually. I think death has mellowed me."

"Not enough."

"Seriously. You should try it sometime," he remarked. "Oh, wait, you already did."

"That was temporary."

"Yes, I know, but it wasn't all bad, was it? Being someone else, leaving behind all those regrets and insecurities that made Sara Cross who she was? As Helen Wellesley, you had a whole new life, a new beginning. Tabula rasa, one might say."

She sighed and cast her gaze downward. "You make it sound so simple."

"And yet it wasn't." He circled behind her, hissing over her shoulder like a hooded cobra. "People called you 'Helen'; it was the name on your passport, official records, etc. But deep down, you were still the same willful, self-conscious, emotionally bankrupt Sara that you always were."

"You're a fine one to be passing judgment, Mr. I-wanna-bring-about-the-apocalypse-because-I-couldn't-get-a-date-to-the-prom."

"I'm already dead, sunshine. Juvenile taunts can't hurt me."

"It's still fun to say them, though."

"And I will begrudgingly admit that a vampire apocalypse might have been a bad idea."

"Ya think?"

"But at least I have the sense not to repeat my mistakes. Whereas you…"

"Whereas I what?"

"Being insubordinate to your handler, not following Council protocols, giving your heart to a man who's unable or unwilling to reciprocate your feelings."

"Oh, come on, Pru." She rolled her eyes and banged on the wall again. "We've already had this conversation once today. Get a new topic."

"Y'know, he seemed so devoted to the dearly departed Emma only a few days ago. To the point where he actually told you to sod off. But then…things change, quick roll in the hay, and suddenly he's devoted to you, he'll never leave your side, and he will never ever ask you to give up your day job."

She leveled her gaze at the apparition. "Shaun loves me."

"He loved Emma," the bespectacled professor countered. "Or at least he said he did. Doesn't spend a lot of time in mourning, our Shaun. Does he?"

"Look, things came up. He's been a little distracted. It's no use trying to make me doubt that Shaun is a good man."

"That may be, but let me assure you, that man has demons. Do you really think that you're prepared to face them?"

"I've seen worse."

"You only think you have," he said. "And yes, there might be a certain connection between the two of you when you're both faced with extreme circumstances, but what happens when the tedium of everyday life sets in?"

"Well, tedium doesn't really describe my everyday life. For instance, having a Film Theory 101 conversation with the ghost of a man who's tried to kill me on several occasions."

"That's a fair point. But you don't honestly think that this is anything more than a fling?"

"This is not a fling," she stated.

"How can you be so sure? Only a few days ago, you were at each other's throats. And not in a good way. What makes you think any of the feelings you two have for each other will last beyond the city limits?"

"Because I feel safe with him," she declared. "It's a new feeling, and I'm kinda getting used to it. So kindly get out of my way so I can kick Pru's witchy ass back into the 1800s so that I can go back to my happy place with Shaun."

"Happy place…where might that be? A vampire nest? A demon bar?"

"Your point…?"

"You're kidding yourself if you think it's going to be cappuccinos in a corner café for the two of you. It will be blood and carnage and anguish. Don't you think he's had enough of that?"

"He's strong. He can handle it."

"But he shouldn't have to, should he? After all, one of these days," Ryland looked over to Will's body on the floor, "it might be Shaun lying there bleeding."

"You're right. One day it may be. But let me break it down for you, prof. Whatever happens is our choice. Not yours, not Pru's, and certainly not jumped-up spirit who doesn't know the meaning of rest in peace."

"I see. Well…it's your funeral."

Ryland then charged at Sara, and she lunged at him with the fireplace poker, driving it straight through his rotting chest; the two of them spiraled toward the door and she ripped her weapon free. The ghost grasped her by the throat as he had before and held her up against the door frame, throttling her with all her might…until a loud bang on the door startled them both. They turned their heads – Sara with some difficulty, in the midst of being strangled and all – to see the point of a metal blade pierce the wood just above the peep hole.

Oh, thank God, Shaun, Sara thought to herself. She took the opportunity while Ryland was gaping at the door to kick him in his decaying groin, thrilled to pieces to find that it had the same effect as it did on living guys. The ghost fell to his knees, groaning in agony, as Sara dropped to her feet and banged on the door. "Shaun! Shaun, help!"

"Sara!" he called out from behind the door. "Stay there, uh….hang on, I've got it!"

"Hurry, he's going to….ggggahhhggh!" Sara's hands flew to her throat as Ryland placed the fire poker across her neck and began to choke her. She struggled for oxygen and leverage, finally placing her feet against the door and kicking. They tumbled backward together, and Sara freed herself from Ryland's grasp. But Ryland got to his feet quickly and landed a blow to her head, sending her spinning backward over a couch. She hit the floor hard and paused to catch her breath, rolling away just before Ryland drove the firepoker into the carpet where her head had just been.

She scrambled to her feet, narrowly avoiding another blow. Grabbing the dagger from her leg holster, she advanced on him but he quickly grabbed her wrist and spun her, holding her arm behind her back. He removed the knife from her hand, took it in his own and held it against her throat.

"Well, well, doesn't this give you a warm, fuzzy feeling of déjà vu?" he whispered into her ear. Sara tried to struggle but she felt too weak. As the sharp edge began to cut into her skin, she could only make out the faintest sound of what sounded like Shaun uttering an incantation in….Latin?

CRRRASH! Sara suddenly gasped a full, deep breath as Ryland's spirit disappeared and the dagger clattered to the floor. She looked up and saw Shaun on top of the beaten-down door, groaning in pain but without any noticeable injury. Sara rubbed her throat, and peered around the room; Ryland's flat, Will's death scene, everything had disappeared and Room 32 was back, intact. Well, except for the door.

"See that! Ha haaaaa!" Shaun cackled, thrusting out his hand gripping a very tiny volume. "Little Book of Really Useful Spells! I'm back, Pru, and I've moved up from garden sheds to big, fuck-off hotel doors!"

"Want to stop gloating and help me up, sport?" Sara asked.

"Shit…sorry, babe, you okay?" Shaun hoisted Sara to her feet and pulled her into his arms. She leaned into his chest and sighed.

"Yeah, other than nearly being throttled by Ryland's ghost again, watching Will die before my eyes and reliving a painful film-geek memory just to make a point, I'm good."

"Which memory was that?"

"Exorcist II."

"Oh, gawwwwd."

"Yeah, it was no fun," Sara replied, breaking their hug and walking toward the wall, attempting to listen to what was going on in Room 34. "What happened to you?"

"Well, I got to see The Winchester again. And Ed when he was alive, and my mum. And my stepdad – I know, WHAT! - and this complete arsehole David who thought he could steal Liz from me…long story, anyway it was really fucking weird but I think I'm getting the hang of this paranormal….Sara, what are you doing?" Shaun stared at Sara as she began to tap on the wall in a strategic pattern.

"Looking for a weak point in the wall. I figure if I can jam the poker into it really hard, pry it loose…we might be able to bust the drywall and break through to the other side. This place is pretty old, might be easier than it looks."

"Right. Erm…" Shaun scratched his head, looking at the small book in his palm and considering. "Okay, I know you really came into your own back there on the lawn with the zombies and all the physical, smash-and-bash, warrior-woman stuff and all, and you were brilliant, don't get me wrong..."

"Thanks, hon. Your point?"

"Well, that kind of thing works for zombies, and vampires. Especially when they're evil slags who used to work with your girlfriend and they're just asking for a beautiful slayer to come walking out of the night and give them a good dusting."

"Shaun…." Sara stopped tapping the wall, turned and smiled at him. "It's adorable of you to start reminiscing about how we first met, but now might not be the best time"

"Sara, just…" He stammered and held up his hands. "…just hear me out, for one second, please." He waited for her response; she pushed her hair away from her face, and motioned for him to continue but be quick about it.

"Okay, so here I was in that other room seeing that horrible scene at the pub play out again, about to have footy practice with the dismembered head of a dead rival for my ex-girlfriend's affections… when it occurred to me that might be the sort of situation where extreme violence isn't going to get me anywhere."

"Whatever you've been reading in the Little Book of Really Useful Spells, I've read it about fifty times over," Sara pointed out. "And groovy, it worked busting the door down but I have a feeling it'll fall short of getting us into that room."

"That's not what I'm saying," Shaun continued. "I'm saying…we need to have a little faith."

"I see. I'm the one with the sacred calling, and you're talking to me about faith…"

"No, Sara..." He walked toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's like Will said, everyone has their own set of ghosts. I got out of the other room by shutting out the distraction and focusing on what I needed to do, and I reached out for my mum…and she helped me escape."

"No kidding?"

"Well…actually, Phillip twatted me in the chest with a bit of wood, but it got me through the door and Mum was there to pick me up off the carpet."

"Nice."

"But that's not the point…what I'm saying is, I don't think Pru's having an easy time of it over there because all hell hasn't broken loose yet. Whatever Will and his friends are doing is working, and I think if you and I concentrate hard enough, one or two of them might be willing to pop over here and lend us a hand."

Sara turned around and regarded the wall again, then turned back to Shaun's expectant gaze. "I can't bash the wall up just a little?"

"You can do whatever you want, love, I'm just saying let's not waste any more time. And you should save your strength for Pru, because she doesn't know what she's in for." He grinned and winked, and Sara smiled.

"No…no, you're right." Sara discarded the fireplace poker and shook her arms out. "Okay, so what do I do, spookmeister?"

"Start by not calling me 'spookmeister'."

"Done. Next?"

"Well…see, I put my hand on the door knob, but maybe put your hand on the wall like this…" Shaun stuffed the Little Book… back into his pocket and placed his palm on the wall. "Then just try to clear your head and concentrate on getting into the room, on Pru and on what she might be doing….how you're going to stop her, how we need any kind of help we can get to just get the hell into that room…"

"How about just shouting 'Will, need a hand here, mate,' that's an idea." Sara and Shaun both jumped and turned to find the ghostly handler standing behind them shaking his head.

"Will you please stop sneaking up behind me!" Shaun complained.

"Nice try, sweetie, he's been doing it to me since I got here," Sara added. "It's all the rage among the undead these days."

"Enough about me, though you two really would be lost without me, wouldn't you?" he smiled smugly.

"Will, we're in a bit of a hurry here," she insisted. "You can save the condescension for later."

"Fine, fine. Riley's right about the concentrating, otherwise all the ectoplasmic mojo in the world isn't going to get you through that wall. I'll see if we can't help, though. Go on, have at it." Will backed away and closed his eyes; Sara and Shaun turned to each other and took deep breaths.

"Ready to do your best Kitty Pryde?" Shaun asked.

"With Pru all Dark Phoenix on the other side of this wall? Sure, why not," Sara answered. The two of them bowed their heads and cleared their minds of every last unnecessary thought. They clenched their fists at their sides and tried to imagine whatever no-good Pru was up to next door…that Evelyn Fairfax might still be alive and worth saving…that Mad Maggie was about to cross the threshold and somehow, by some miracle, they would find a way to send her back to the other side with her bags packed and a one-way ticket to Hell.

"Steady on…keep it going, almost there," Will instructed. "Don't open your eyes yet, concentrate!" As much as they wanted to see what was happening, the two of the continued to focus on projecting themselves inside the room; gradually, a light began to emanate from behind their closed eyelids and an ethereal hum rang out in the room. A strange sound, halfway between a creak and a crumble, emerged from in front of them but still they didn't budge.

"Aaaaand…NOW. Go!" Sara and Shaun winced and stormed forward; strangely, they felt some resistance, along with a terrifying icy gust that shivered them to their bones. But their bodies, sure enough, passed right through the wall and tumbled forward beside the bed in Room 34.

"Holy shit..." Sara exclaimed.

"...it worked!" Shaun laughed. They spun around to look behind them, just in time to see a sky-blue mist hovering around an elliptical space in the wall; at the edges of the partition, dozens of decaying hands appeared to be holding the plaster, mortar and brick aside to allow them to pass. Beyond the wall where they had stood before, Will waved at them genteelly and smiled.

"Give my regards to Miss Davies. And don't die!" And as soon as it had appeared, the hole in the wall and the benevolent hands keeping it ajar vanished. There was only the quaint floral wallpaper in its place…and a sickeningly familiar green glow keeping the room alight.

"That was fantastic," Shaun gasped, "and I don't think I ever want to do it again."

"You won't have to, Mr. Riley," a sultry female voice with an unnatural, paranormal echo to it replied. The room seemed to vibrate under her dulcet tones; Sara and Shaun exchanged a look.

"Oh, hi there, Pru. Mind if we drop in, have a spot of tea, foil your megalomaniacal plans?" Sara taunted.

"Ah, Miss Cross, I have missed your witty banter. But I think you'll find that the rules of the game have changed since last we met." Suddenly, the bathroom door burst into hundreds of slivers of wood; Sara and Shaun ducked for cover, shielding themselves from the shower of toothpick-sized fragments. When the scraps settled, they looked up into the emerald mist and saw the lithe, corseted figure of the enemy walk in.

"Who…the hell…is she?" Shaun peeped.

"I think that's Pru," Sara replied.

"When did we swap Zoe Wanamaker for Keira Knightley!" Shaun wondered.

"No idea, but I'm beginning to wish I'd paid more attention in all those magic lectures," she whispered, then turned to the young witch. "So I'm confused, the Oil of Olay finally kick in, or does the Spice of Life specialize in herbal Botox?'

"I like the nonchalant bravado. It suits you," she said. "But I think we all know that no amount of clever remarks is going to stop what's about to happen."

"Right, right, you were gonna' bring back Margaret Winfield's ghost, weren't you?" Sara conjectured. "And turn most of the hotel's guests into spiritual conduits or something? But y'know, I haven't seen any ghosts. Have you, Shaun?"

"Well, earlier, in the other room…"

"Shaun…"

"Right. No, no ghosts." He shook his head emphatically.

"Having a bit of trouble, Pru?" Sara inquired.

"The spiritual world doesn't exactly run on a precise schedule," she explained, with a hint of exasperation. "But it's only a matter of time."

"Where's Evelyn Fairfax?"

"She's just in the other room. Probably dead by now. She was under water for quite some time…."

"Shit!...Shaun, go and check on Evie."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you alone!"

"Shaun, focus on what you need to do – I can handle her, I promise. Just…make it fast."

"Right." He nodded and started toward the bathroom, gingerly stepping around Pru who merely regarded him with bemused interest.

"So it's just us then?" Pru smiled after he'd gone.

"Just us girls."

"Funny. I would have thought you'd be halfway to the seventh level of your own personal hell by now."

"Yeah, well, I was about to board that bus but then I remembered something."

"What's that?"

"I owe you pain," she said, and launched a right hook at Pru's jaw.