Hugh Jackman voice-over: "Collinwood in the revised history of 1820 is a dangerous place. William Collins, the son of Barnabas Collins, has inherited his father's curse and destiny and will destroy anyone who comes between him and his one true love. No one is safe, but his mother still has a plan to save him and restore history back to where it once was."
At the Old House, Quentin Collins stood guard at the bottom of the stairs to the bedrooms. Every window was locked and latched and ever shutter was secured with garlic to the outside. Most of the house was dark or partially lit as he stood guard and clung to his rifle filled with silver bullets. His son and daughter were dead, his wife near death in Bangor, and his only hope was that if Angelique could stop William from getting to Ally that time could be restored, and his children returned back to life. He couldn't blame William for these deaths, nor could he blame Amanda. This was all the work of the ghost of magic-wielding sorceress trying to reclaim the spirits of her children. She had turned them into chess pieces to destroy the family, and she was coming very close to winning, but here, now, he became the last line of defense.
Someone rapped at the door.
"Who is it?" He asked.
"It's me, Uncle Quentin…" Jason Roger's voice sounded. "My father sent me to bring you coffee…" The miscreant shuddered in the cold misty dark.
"I'm coming…" Quentin hoisted his aching body up and leaned the rifle against the bottom of the railing. "I'm getting too old for this." His hands unlocking the door, he looked up as JR's shining face beamed forward with his right hand shaking a large metal kettle filled with hot coffee taken from the main house kitchen. Entering the house, the young man glanced around the house.
"So, what's going up there?" Quentin asked as he paused at the foyer table to pour himself a drink.
"Oh, quiet, boring, not enough to wake the dead…" The boy lied to cover up his duplicity and noticed Barnabas's home filled with the overwhelming scent of dried garlic. "Who are you trying to keep out of here with all this garlic?" Jason Roger mused. "Rachel Ray?"
"JR, you don't understand, you…" Quentin gasped upon tasting the strong period coffee then paused confused. "How do you know that name?" Rachel Ray was a Twentieth Century personality. Did JR recall his life from the future? As he looked back to the youth, Jason Roger smacked him with an empty Scotch decanter, dropping the older man to the floor of the foyer. Dazed and knocked out for the moment, Quentin groaned from the headache and lay on his back trying to think. His thoughts were swimming around after that blow to the head, but as his vision tried to refocus, he watched Jason Roger remove the garlic from the door and taking the crucifix his uncle had dropped.
"JR!" Quentin tried lifting himself up. "Don't open that door!"
"Too late…" JR swung it open to William waiting outside. Standing out front with a surly bored look on his face, the young scion of the family now marched forward to meet his uncle unfettered by any mystical anathema to the herb hanging around the house. His face was annoyed, his eyes narrowed lacking any respect for his former mentor. JR stood by the side with a curious smirk to his face.
"Allow me to help you up, Uncle Quentin…" William jerked him up by one hand then grabbed his throat by his left hand. "How dare you keep me from my wife?!" He flung his uncle into the parlor as Quentin stumbled over the chair and rode over the top of it getting toppled over in the corner.
"She's in your sister's old room." Jason Roger replied.
"I kind of figured that out…" William strolled up the stairs and arrived at the first room atop the staircase. In the room, Ally woke from a deep sleep and looked toward the door. Victoria Winters reacted from the chair by the bed, dropping her book and taking the small gun her husband had left for her.
"Ally…" William grinned feeling her soul close to him. "Open the door…"
"No, Ally…" Victoria kept her from the door. "Don't!"
"But he's my husband…"
"Ally, darling…" William called to her. "I'm here…" In the room, Victoria held Ally back from the door. Down in the parlor, Jason Roger lifted Quentin's rifle and emptied the silver rounds from it, then looked up as his uncle came charging at him, sucker-punching the young comedian chest to cause him to double over and drop the gun. He then went scouring the floor for the bullets.
"Ally, that's not your husband!" Victoria fought the younger girl. "William's dead!"
"No, he's not!"
"Ally, open the door…" William pined for her. "Remove the garlic." He heard the rifle cock as his uncle loaded the silver bullet and lifted the barrel up above the railing on his nephew. Quentin's finger tightened as soon as he had him in sight, but choking and gagging on bile coming up from his stomach, J.R. grabbed the gun at the last minute and took the shot to his own chest, crashing to the floor with a blast of his insides coming out his back. Terrified at what he was going to have to tell Willie, Quentin winced briefly and started loading the last silver bullet he had just as William pulled the gun out of his reach and struck him over the head with it. Hearing the shots in the house, Ally screamed and tried rushing to her husband, knocking the garlic from the inside of the bedroom door. When it opened, Victoria looked up to William's face and fired into his face with the iron pellets in her gun, but it didn't faze him. A swat from his annoyed right hand sent her sailing into the canopy bed and falling over the other side to the floor. The wind knocked out of her, Victoria gasped and reeled from what felt like a broken back as William and Ally embraced before Amanda's tall mirror.
"Like I said…" Tears fell from William's eyes to see her again. "Not even death can keep us apart…" Ally beamed to him to be in his touched once more. She kissed him once and then again. Caressing her body and kissing her neck, William pulled her closer to complete their union just as Amanda's mirror came to life. There was a light coming from inside it. Pulling herself up, Victoria could see it as well. There was a figure in it. A tall beautiful blonde woman in period attire had stepped into the reflection and entranced William and his wife with her power. Beaming with motherly pride, Cheryl Harridge realized she had found the soul of her eldest son in the body of the Collins heir.
"William, my baby boy…"
"Mother?" Even in his undead state, William's soul belonged to her.
"Yes, my son…" She had him under her control. "Take your bride, and the three of us will go off and find your brothers and sisters, and this time, Angelique Collins will never stop us."
"William! She's not your real mother!" Victoria picked up a ceramic crock pot from the floor and hurled it into the mirror, shattering it into a hundred pieces as the room exploded around her, and the mirror erupted into a window in time and space. Everything loose in the room was getting sucked into it. William pushed Ally into the hallway to say her then turned to his former governess. Pulled up off her feet, Victoria screamed as the mirror started swallowing every thing. The bed wrappings went first into it followed by everything on the bureau to the vanity table. Josette's portrait over the fireplace was ripping itself from its frame. William grabbed his former governess's free hand and started pulling her out of the room, but the hurricane was too great. The house itself was trembling and shaking. Ally could feel it getting ripped off its foundation. She could hear the structure groaning and the wood creaking and straining. Clutching Victoria close, William tried pulling her even harder from the room. Over their heads, the ceiling was separating from the house and the mirror was ripped in a hundred pieces from the house through the crumbling wall. From the dark skies, it looked as if the black clouds were reaching down to swallow the estate. Her voice screaming to the heavens, Ally reached to William as he and Victoria were sucked from the house in the storm.
Stumbling up the staircase, Quentin groaned as he grabbed Ally and tried saving her. Under them, the entire house was tilting. Jason Roger was sucked out through the front entrance doors as if a giant vacuum had swallowed him. A tornado was setting down on the property and ripping up everything in its path. With the roof getting ripped up in pieces, the outside columns came tumbling down with the thundering noise drowned out by the wind and thunder. Trying to reach the cellar, Quentin tried to get the younger girl to safety. Through the storm, he heard a hundred voices screaming in terror as the ghosts of Collinwood cried out in pain in the growling maelstrom ripping apart the estate.
Across the estate, trees started bending in the hurricane force winds, and the stonewall-enforced driveway to the top of the hill started collapsing. In the main house, Angelique screamed as one tree came ripping through the upstairs landing. Over their heads, they could hear the roof getting peeled off and the wind and rain whistling through the top floor. Tiny Gabriel was ripped from Daniel's fatherly embrace and slammed into a wall. Lizzie's prostrate body on the second floor slid against its will and was thrown out the window. Racing to get to the basement, Barnabas heard the top floor coming off next. He sent Angelique to lead the way to his mother, daughter and sister. Portraits were ripping off the walls through the house, and Angelique stopped in shock to see the stairs to the first floor of the foyer collapse under them. Along the seams of the bricks of the house, she could see a crack breaking through the mortar and feel the wind whistling through it. The tornado was swallowing everything up under it. Sara Elizabeth was clinging to her aunt and suddenly ripped apart from her screaming. The cacophony of noise was getting worse. Nothing was safe. Barnabas saw his mother rush to the back stairs just as the ceiling came down on her. His voice roared in shock to see her snatched from him. From around the corner, Angelique was leading her daughter by the hand to reach the end staircase. In their path, the ghost of Joshua Collins stood waiting for him. His hand reaching to his son, he implored his son to take it. Hesitant at first, Barnabas relented and grasped it, a sense of life pouring into his father's spirit.
In the Old House basement, Quentin clutched Ally close screaming out in terrified misery. The entire house was coming down on top of them. The roaring noise was getting worse, but then he heard something else he didn't expect. It was the voice of his son. Jamison was calling him from the caves underneath. Looking up, he could see the dark basement maw under the main house getting brighter. As the storm raged overhead, a powerful white light was charging toward them like a steam locomotive coming up from out of the light. Maggie's voice was in it too. As it expunged itself from the Earth, the time-lost former scoundrel felt Ally pulled from him and himself taken over by the burst of light and warm air. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Quentin fell into place where he was. The sounds of the storm were getting further and further away, but the voices were getting louder. It was several dozen voices over each other talking and arguing. The light was so bright he could still see it in his head, but one by one, everything began subsiding. Reality was coming at rest, and with it, the ringing in his ears was subsiding. It was one person talking now, and whoever it was were coming closer and closer. When he opened his eyes, Quentin felt as if he'd been asleep. He was back at Collinwood in the mansion ballroom on the first floor and sitting on the left side of the room next to Maggie in her black and white dress. Alive once more, Jamison fidgeted left and right bored. In front of him, Angelique also snapped from her trance and looked around. They were back to where they were a few days ago! Dressed in her light blue dress, Carolyn prodded Willie awake, and Sara Elizabeth looked to her mother waking her father. Time had been restored, and Barnabas jostled awake as one of four people who recalled their lost history. Up in front of the room, William Benjamin Collins stood in his black and white suit with Ross Gellar as his best man before Ally Marie McBeal in her white bridal dress to take as his wife once more.
"Back through the looking glass…" Gasping inaudibly under her breath, Angelique realized reality had snapped them back to the present.
"I know pronounce you…" Reverend Holliman announced. "…Man and wife." William grinned and looked to Ally. She was shining herself as she jumped up and grabbed him by the shoulders. From her seat, Angelique looked briefly confused then gratefully relieved. Barnabas was perplexed as well. Both of them along with Quentin and Willie were confused. What just happened? A minute ago, Willie was in period clothes sitting by the fire in an upstairs bedroom with Carolyn and their daughter, but she was grinning and happy with no memories of what had happened. Lizzie sat bored, distracted and healthy watching the wedding, and Jason Roger checked his watch and gazed on the bridesmaid he had been flirting with earlier. History had been restored but to what? Realizing the dire fate awaiting Amanda, Angelique gestured to Maggie urgently to follow her and they quietly slipped from the wedding.
"Angelique? What is it?"
"Angelique…" The confused councilwoman followed her. She loved Angelique like a sister, a friend and confidante. If there was something to be fearful of, she trusted Angelique with her life. For the minute, they forgot about weddings, grandchildren and drinking to toasts. They slipped out the back way of the house and hurried for the garage on the property.
"Amanda left the house!" Angelique slipped around Maggie as they tried to catch the girl on the way to Rose Cottage. "I'm terrified what she could do now that she has lost William forever."
"Oh God!" Maggie's eyes lit up with concern and worry as she started up her SUV with Angelique in the passenger seat. Years of suicide attempts and bouts of depression from her daughter preyed on her worst motherly fears. Briefly clipping the family's old sedan from the years there was still a governess on the property, Maggie took the road under the house now lined by cars and drove down the hill toward the tree line, passing the caretaker's cottage and the family cemetery on the way to the back entry on Collins Road. Leaving the estate, they turned south toward Frid Street and then turned off it onto the access road back on to the estate. Restored back in the Early Eighties, Rose Cottage loomed a head of them within the trees. The cobblestone driveway out front was vacant, but the front door was hanging open. Turning off her car and leaving the keys in the ignition, Maggie stormed the house ahead of Angelique, racing up the spiral staircase and turning right down the hallway.
Maggie's scream suddenly pierced the estate.
In the altered present, Amanda had shattered the mirror and used the shards to slice her wrists. Her eyes were still full of tears. Like the events of a muted movie slowed down, Maggie rushed to hold her with her lips trembling and trying to make a noise as Angelique called for an ambulance. As the reception went on at the main house, the shrieks of an ambulance filled the estate, taking the route through the gate and then the long perimeter driveway of the estate past the Old House to Rose Cottage where paramedics carried Amanda to the hospital then left the back way on to Seaview Drive and took the highway to Collinsport Regional Medical Center, appropriately into the Julia Hoffman Memorial Emergency Wing, named after a close Collins family confidante. Maggie went with her, and Quentin went with her quickly after, but that was not where Angelique could leave things. Her heart went with them, and after William and Ally were off as a married couple, the family retreated to catch their breaths in the drawing room where Carolyn discovered another secret hidden by her ancestors.
"My God…" Carolyn heard the story from Angelique. "That all really happened?"
"Yes…" Angelique crossed over and sat on the arm of the chair where her beloved Barnabas sat and rested. Willie crossed in front of her with his shot of brandy. "Countess Harridge was behind the entire thing. If Vicki hadn't shattered the mirror holding her spirit…"
"Vicki still alive in the past." Willie postured with a deep breath and lightly shook his head. "I still can't believe it…" He dropped the 1990 Edition of the family history on the table opened to the lifetime of Daniel Collins.
"I wish I could have been there." Carolyn remised. "I could have finally revealed to her that we were sisters."
"Be grateful you weren't there…" Willie spoke. "It was a nightmare. Happy to say, I'm so glad to be back in a time with cell phones and motor cars…" He looked to Barnabas. "No offense."
"None taken…" Barnabas sat back in his chair. "But to live the events as my father had lived them…. I'm so grateful to Victoria for coming back to help us one last time."
"Barnabas…" Carolyn read the yearbook. "A bad storm did hit the estate in 1820, but it didn't devastate the grounds to the extent like you said… but didn't your mother died in 1795?" He laid the book open on the desk. "Well, according to this, she passed away from an illness in 1821."
"That's not right…" Angelique and Barnabas exchanged glances. "My god… could we have to some extent actually altered history with Harridge's help?" She lifted the book closer. "Could we have actually been there? Is there a mention of William and Ally…"
"No…" Barnabas perused the description of the family events. "But it does mention Daniel's sons, Gabriel and Quentin, and how Gabriel was rendered paraplegic after the storm hurled him from a window." He started rationalizing further. Could this have lead to Quentin's granduncle's obsession with time travel? With all the modern relics dragged back then, could the young man as an adult have figured out where they had come from?
"Angelique…" Carolyn sipped her sherry and postured a bit in her seat. "This Harridge… You think we've finally seen the end of her."
"A sorceress that powerful does not go into the afterlife that easily." Angelique responded. "She might be back." Her thoughts fretted over the other mirrors on the property. The wily countess could have jumped to any of them or any object that could hold an enchantment from the main house, the Old House or Rose Cottage. Who could be next? Carolyn, Lizzie, Maggie, her daughter… She got lucky this time, the next time could possibly be her last. At Rose Cottage, two male cousins morbidly viewed the scene of a relative's attempted suicide. Their eyes poured emotionally distant over the glass shards of the mirror, the small drops to the large puddle of dark and drying blood in the powder pink carpet and up to the female décor and littered clothes scattered around the room.
"I can't believe she did it again…" Jamison leaded back against her door with his arms crossed and hands buried under his armpits. "What the heck is wrong with her?"
"You treated Amanda like crap when we were kids…" J.R. looked at him. "Don't you feel guilty at all that she's psychotic?"
"I don't look at her like that…" Jamison answered. "I just think of her as… sensitive…"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night…" J.R. grimaced and looked back again out of morbid curiosity; they had gone upstairs to Amanda's teddy bear-filled room to see where she had slashed her wrists and instead stared at the scene mentally debating their mortality and responsibility. The shattered mirror shards were still on the carpet before her closet with spots of her blood in the pink carpet and etched into the glass.
"I was thinking of doing something nice for Amanda." Jamison answered. "Why don't we go in together and get her mirror fixed?"
"What if she smashes it again when she gets out of Windcliff?" J.R. asked the question. The two former cronies in crime looked to each other with the same thought.