The stairs were horribly creaky as we ascended them.

"Oh, I really don't like the look of this," the Doctor said, glancing from the stairs to the weak wooden handrails. "This whole staircase is in horrible condition!"

"When we last went into this house, it was the 1950s," I said. "If it's the 1920s now, should it nae be better?"

"I'd say that this house is much, much older than that," the Doctor said. He sniffed at the wood. "I expect it was built… right around the time you were born, most likely."

"Well don' ye go sniffing me next to make sure…"

"Don't worry about that; unless you'd like me to introduce you to the wonderful world of cologne. Ow! No kicking my shins! That's unnecessary!"

"Are ye implying that I need cologne!?"

"I was implying nothing! I never particularly bothered with the stuff myself until I first arrived on Earth… Oh, never mind; we can bicker about this when we're not making our way up a dangerous flight of stairs!"

"Fine," I sighed.

I ignored the cold sensation I could feel just behind my ear again; that ghost light was still following me. Trying to shoo it away just wouldn't have any effect, I knew. What I didn't understand was why it insisted on following me when it was clear that it wouldn't be able to access my memories.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was aware of my silent frustrations due to his touch-telepathy activating as I grasped his arm again.

"Is that wisp still bothering you?"

"Aye," I muttered. "Why me?"

"Well, I don't know," the Doctor mused, as we pressed on. "You'd think it would try harder to get at my memories, since I've got more… You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that it was personal."

"But what link do I have with a ghost from Brooklyn?" I asked.

"Spirit matters are not quite my area of expertise, alas," the Doctor sighed. "Well, it can't hurt you, at any rate. And now we've finally reach the top of these accursed stairs!"

We both took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I do hope we shall only need to traverse those one more time, on the way down," the Doctor said, glancing at me. "Oh, you're perspiring…"

I squawked in protest as he used a handkerchief to mop my brow.

"Och, let's just find the child," I said. "I'll look over in those bedrooms; you look in these ones."

"Yes—no! We mustn't get separated, Jamie! There's no telling what could happen! Now, follow me, carefully…"

Our relief at having made it up the stairs was short-lived as we realized that the floor we were on was nearly as worn and dangerous as the stairs had been. It still creaked with every step, and other ghost lights hovered above us, watching. The one wisp was still following me, but I was determined to ignore it now.

"Do you notice something odd, Jamie?"

"Ghost lights all around us, a face is screaming in the wall downstairs, there's a temporal disturbance somewhere in the house… Is that nae odd enough?"

The Doctor stared at me for a moment.

"…I was referring to the fact that the footprints we were following disappeared, but it is related to all that you just mentioned, I suppose," he stated. "The ghosts probably don't want us to find that child; they want to view his memories over and over again, and they know we'll stop that."

"But he's only a wee lad!" I said. "Six years old, according to Lotte; what kind of memories could he possibly have that would be worth anything to these ghosts?"

The Doctor looked up at the wisps.

"They've been here, trapped, for a very, very long time, Jamie," he said. "They've forgotten what it was like—the feel of the sun, the caress of the wind. They have to live vicariously through the memories of those who step into this house—even if it's only a few years' worth of memories."

He opened the door of one of the bedrooms; we shined our torches inside and, upon realizing that there was no one in this room, didn't bother going inside.

"This isn't going to work," the Doctor said. "Remember; we're only going to be able to see what the ghosts want us to see—and they won't want us to find him."

"Aye, so… maybe the room itself is hidden?" I said, pressing my hands against the walls and trying to feel for a hidden door.

"I believe so, but you're going about it the wrong way. If we tried running our hands over every inch of wall in this place, we'd be here all night," the Doctor said.

"So we'll call oot to the laddie," I offered.

"He has no reason to trust us," the Doctor sighed.

"Lotte said he loves hearing aboot yer stories," I reminded him.

"That well may be, but as far as he knows, I'm just a figment of those stories; he might assume I'm a trick by the ghosts. No, Jamie; we're going to have to cast aside our primary senses and use ones they cannot influence."

"This is getting into how yer people are telepathic, aye?" Jamie sighed. "Well, then, that's yer specialty."

"Oh, I don't know," the Doctor said. "The last time we were in this house and the ghosts had hidden me from you, you were able to find me."

"Aye, well, I've been with ye long enough for ye to influence that sixth sense, or whatever it is. I'm…in tune with ye more than I would be with some laddie I've ne'er met before."

"Well, if that's what concerns you, there are still ways that you can help. You can be my amplifier."

"Eh?"

"It's simple, really…" He raised his hands again, and then paused. "With your permission, of course. We made an agreement that I wouldn't poke around your head if you didn't want me to—"

"Aye, it's fine," I said, knowing that had also been the reason why he had wanted my permission before putting up the protective barrier in my mind earlier. "I only said that when I first started traveling with ye because I still thought ye were a witch at the time. I know better now."

"Nevertheless, I don't like poking about in someone's head without their approval—dire emergencies notwithstanding, of course. And we're not at the dire stage yet." He placed his hands on my temples again. "Now, then; you do the same to me."

I shrugged and placed my hands on his temples, as well.

"Yes, just right," the Doctor said. "Now, close your eyes and let your mind go completely blank. I know it shan't be easy with that ghost light hovering around you, but I want you to ignore it completely. Just concentrate on strengthening your mental focus."

He fell silent now. We stood like that; I'm not certain for how long. But, soon, we were able to "hear" a frightened child's thoughts, wishing that his mother and brother were here to help him out of the house.

The Doctor gently guided me towards the source; still keeping our eyes closed, we reached a door.

"You can open your eyes now, Jamie," the Doctor said. "We've found him."

I opened my eyes, surprised to see us as what looked like a panel of wall, and yet, the Doctor opened an unseen doorjamb, nodding at me to follow him.

The illusion faded as we walked through the doorway; the ghost lights in the room rushes at us angrily, and then left us alone, realizing that we were not affected by them. The one annoying wisp was, of course, still following me.

But the Doctor and I both glanced at the child cowering on the bed, covering his eyes with his hands. I glanced back at the Doctor, and, to my surprise, he was observing the child with a noticeable amount of sympathy in his eyes.

"Doctor?" I asked, softly.

"He was about ready to cry himself to sleep…"

"Aye, well… we can tell him that we're here to help…" I said, beginning to take a few steps towards him.

"No, Jamie; not yet!" the Doctor whispered; thrusting an arm out to stop me from walking any further into the room. "I must check something first!"

As the boy looked up, noticing us for the first time, the Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and got down on his hands and knees, aiming the screwdriver under the bed, and then looking under it himself.

"It's quite alright—nothing there," he said, satisfied. He then looked up, smiling gently as the boy looked at him in wonder. "Hullo, there."

"Are… are you the Raggedy Doctor?" he asked, in an awed whisper. "The one Mrs. Williams told all those stories about?"

"Well, I suppose I am, aren't I?" the Doctor asked. "And Jamie and I are here to get you out of this horrid place."

The boy's face fell.

"I can't leave…" he said, tearfully.

"Whyever not?" the Doctor asked.

"The ghosts won't let me. They keep making me think of things until my head hurts…" the boy said, rubbing his head. "And if I try to go downstairs, the statue won't let me go, either—she stands in the way, showing her pointy teeth."

"Well, it's probably just an illusion to scare you into going back up here," the Doctor said, gently. He paused as the boy didn't seem to understand him. "I mean, the statue isn't real. It only looks real."

But the boy shook his head.

"She's real," he insisted. "She tapped me on the shoulder, and then I was here, in the house. And if I try to leave, she's right there."

"Um… Doctor," I said, quietly. "Do ye think it could be that the statue is real? That the ghosts are able to make it move in some way?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "In all my five hundred years of life, I've never even heard of a statue that can move at all, let alone like that. And you and the boys are the only ones who've seen it; I still haven't even caught so much as a glimpse! Are you absolutely certain that it was real, Jamie?"

"I don' know; I only saw it for a second," I admitted.

"Mrs. Williams says they're real," the boy insisted. "She says that they are mean creatures, but you fight them. And that they only ever beat you once—"

"I have a strange feeling that you're giving me information that I'm not supposed to know yet," the Doctor said, gently interrupting the boy. "The best thing you can do right now to make sure that I can beat them is by keeping all the secrets. And if these statues are real and did only beat me once… Well, it shan't be today—I can promise you that."

I wasn't really paying attention at this point; I was looking back at the ghost light hovering by my head. Had the wisp been trying to warn me? But why would it do that, when the other ghosts seemed to be working with the statue to keep the child here? Or was it only pretending, trying to get me to lower my guard?

I looked up at the ghost light.

"What do ye want from me?" I muttered.

Of course, it didn't speak loud enough; there was a wee whisper, but it was lost in the whispers of the other ghost lights. And soon, the Doctor's voice brought me back to the present. He was asking him permission to put a mental barrier in his mind; the child didn't quite understand what he meant at first, but after the Doctor explained that he was going to stop the ghosts from forcing him to think of things, he agreed. Soon, once the barrier had been put in his mind, the child now threw his arms around the Doctor's neck. The Doctor shrugged and decided to carry him.

"Well, all that's left is to return to the TARDIS and bring him home!" he said, pleased. "And then we'll see to fixing the problem that plagues this house."

"You're gonna come back here?" the boy asked, amazed.

"Well, we don't want anyone else to get lost in here, do we?"

"You really are just like Mrs. Williams said!" the boy grinned.

The Doctor looked at me with a sideways glance.

"Now, now; I don't think I should get all the credit; Jamie here helps me out a lot. I don't know where I'd be without him."

I smiled at the both of them.

"I'm going t' make sure the stairs are alright for ye," I said. "Ye don' want them to give way while ye're carrying him."

"Well, be careful! And don't wander too far!"

"Aye," I said, heading back out onto the landing. The single ghost light followed me out, and then flew ahead, floating down the staircase.

Aiming the torchlight down the stairs, I was surprised to see the angel statue back at the base of the stairs. This time, however, it wasn't holding its face in its hands; it was looking right at me with its stone eyes.

I briefly glanced up, seeing some of the ghost lights hovering there, but when I looked back down, the statue's face was now inches from my own, its stone mouth open. As the boy said, it was baring its fangs at me.

Though it shames me to admit it, I think I did let out a cry of fright, for the next thing I knew, I heard the Doctor frantically asking me if I was alright, and I could hear his footsteps approaching us. Instinctively, I turned my head to face the sound of his voice and footsteps… And I can't even begin to describe what happened next, but I'll try my best—

I felt something touch my shoulder, and then everything suddenly jolted. It kind of felt like the jolting the TARDIS does as she flies through the time vortex… except that I wasn't in the TARDIS. I was still in the demon house.

In an instant, everything in the house looked so much newer; the wood wasn't as worn and rotten, and the staircase was firm. I tested the first couple of steps, and then turned back to the other room.

"Doctor!" I called. "Doctor, something's happened to the house! Is it another illusion, do ye reckon?"

But there was no reply, and a chill went down my spine.

"Doctor!?" I called, silently pleading for a response.

I looked around; there were a few ghost lights darting this way and that—but nowhere near as many as there had been before. And the one pesky wisp that had been following me had vanished.

"Doctor!?"

When, after the third time, there was no reply, I realized that, somehow, I had gone back further in time. I didn't pause to think; I had to know what year it was—somehow, I had to get word back to the Doctor so that he could find me.

I tore down the stairs, pausing as I saw the angel statue blocking the front door. The statue looked different too… as though it was "healthier."

I crossed to the window next, and froze as I saw the reflection of the angel statue in the glass. Whirling back around, I could see this one trying to close in on me again. And that was when I remembered what Lotte's older son had said—

"It moved only when no one was looking at it."

I sidled sideways towards the door, not taking my eyes off of the statue. Fumbling backwards for the doorjamb, I somehow managed to get it open and slipped outside, closing the door behind me. And then I ran.

The first thing I noticed was that the tall buildings that reached the skies were gone; most of the buildings were gone. I had clearly gone back in time a significant number of years. I didn't know exactly how far back I had gone until, after running for quite some time, I found myself approaching a small group of people in uniforms. Even under the dim light of my torch, their jackets gleamed red. And I think my heart skipped a beat.

They were soon followed by more of his colleagues, all in uniform, pointing at me—or, rather, the light in my hand. I turned off the torch and threw myself to the ground, watching them from the shadows as my blood boiled. Those were the uniforms that had haunted my nightmares in the months following Culloden, and now, face to face with Redcoats again, that angel statue and the demon house suddenly seemed far more inviting.