Fred turns the shower off and turns around, whereupon she notices the window. We see the word "REAPER" written on the glass. Backwards, from Fred's perspective, so I guess it says "R3QA3R" as far as she's concerned. Spicule watches hopefully, then the glass shatters and he is hurled through a wall and out into the hallway.

Footsteps approach, and Spicule picks himself up and blusters, "No more hiding in the shadows. Let's do this right and proper." A suited man carrying a briefcase appears at the top of the stairs. He turns to Spicule, revealing that half of his face is coated with blood, and I'm afraid it just looks a bit cheesy. As the latest ghost passes Spicule he whispers, "William..." Spicule backs away, and the armless woman appears behind him and gasps, "Please..." Spicule retreats down the stairs to the lobby. The 1940s woman has put the glass back into her eye for safe-keeping, and stands on the landing moaning that it hurts. Well, it's your own fault for putting it back in your eyeball, lady. Spicule reaches the lobby and snaps, "I'm not talking to flunkies anymore!" He taunts the Reaper, accusing him of being "some little twit of a spirit," and there's something about a pot and a kettle and then Spicule suddenly wails and collapses. Blipvert of Spicule's head twitching, with barbed wire wrapped around it like a Christmas garland. Festive! Spicule twitches on the floor as a spooky voice says, "Yes, take you screaming." This would be the Reaper, I take it. Another bloody blipvert. And then a disheveled looking eighteenth-century guy with cool boots stands over Spicule and says, "An eternity of suffering for your sins. But first, I get to play." Aw, as part of his ongoing quest to be just like Angel, Spicule got his own Holtz. But without the cool voice. The Reaper holds up a knife, and hey -- this is the Jack the Ripper episode! Hooray! All SF shows are required to do this, you know. I'm amazed they've held out so long here.