A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

Warnings: Major and minor character death, angst, alcoholism, Wilson/OMC

Disclaimer: I still do not own House or A Christmas Carol

Stave Four

The Last of the Spirits

Or, Amber's Revenge

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. House trembled as the spirit approached, it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery. It was shrouded in a black garment which covered its head, face, and form leaving nothing but a singe pale hand exposed. The Spirit neither spoke nor moved.

"You are the Ghost of Christmas yet To Come?" House guessed. It nodded slowly.

"I'm supposed to say I fear you right? And that I know you are here to help me. I'm supposed to welcome you right? Well I'd really just like you to leave. Any chance of that happening?"

The Spirit shook its head.

"This could get really annoying, really fast. Will you not speak to me?"

The spirit seemed to regard him for a moment, before it seemed to shrug and pushed back its hood.

"If you insist." Amber smirked.

"Oh god," House groaned, "you're the worst one yet…"

"Oh gee thanks." Amber glared at him.

"You're welcome," House grinned, "anyway, lead on. Let's get this over with."

"Whatever you want." Amber agreed with a very sinister smile.

"Why do I feel like this is not going to be fun?" House sighed.

"Because it won't be." Amber smirked.

With a sickening jolt they left the street, and landed in the hospital locker room.

"I don't know much about it. I only know he's dead." A fat doctor with a monstrous chin remarked.

"When did he die?" Another doctor asked.

"Last night, I believe," Giant-Chin-Man replied.

"What was wrong with him? I thought he'd never die."

"God knows." Chin said.

"They're talking about me, aren't they?" House asked, scowling at the other doctors.

"What's going to happen to his team?" A red-faced doctor asked

"I honestly don't know," Chin replied, "Either Dr. Foreman will take over, or it'll be disbanded."

"Guess that answers my question." House sighed, "Do we really have to go through all of this? Can't you just tell me how to reform."

"Not a chance. This is way too much fun." Amber smiled, patting House on the shoulder consolingly. "Come on, it only gets better. This is the part where we visit your dead body."

"Joy." House groaned, trying to keep his voice neutral and not let Cut Throat Bitch know how frightened he really was.

They were in his room in the flat. A white sheet covered the body lying in the bed. A pale, sickly light was the only thing illuminating the room. Otherwise it was as cold and lifeless as the body.

His body.

"Amber," House began, fighting to keep his voice from trembling, "Can we go? Now."

"Sure." Amber replied, seemingly unaffected by the whole scene, but she had seen the color drain from House's face as they entered the room, and she almost felt sorry that she had to bring him here.

They were back in the hospital, in the ICU which was swarming with doctors. Cuddy and Lucas were glaring daggers at each other outside the room. Suddenly all the doctors stilled. Cuddy's eyes widened and she whipped around to face Chase who had walked out of the room.

Faintly, House could hear Foreman state the time of death in a wooden voice.

"No!" Cuddy gasped, pushing past Chase and shoving her way through the doctors to the bedside.

Lucas cast a nervous glance at Chase.

"I'm sorry." Chase told him.

"She broke up with me." Lucas stated, looking shell-shocked.

Chase grimaced, "You should go home. Give her some time, she'll come around."

"I doubt it!" Lucas snapped, "Her daughter just died!"

House had gone very still. "My team couldn't save her?"

"No. You would have been able to. They weren't."

With that, Amber led him to a dismal graveyard. Amber pointed to one of the graves. House stepped forward to see a single red rose lying beside the tombstone. House's tombstone.

"I can change this right? These are only the shadows of things that May Be, right?" House asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if the courses be departed from the ends will change. There's still hope for you House, but you have to change."

House glanced at the grave again before taking a deep breath and asking, "I know this is normally where you would leave me, but can we see Wilson? Please?"

Amber hesitated, "I'm… really not supposed to. I was instructed not to let you see, but I know you better. You need more of an incentive to change than your own death. Lets go."

The apartment they were in was small but immaculately clean. House trudged into the living room, dreading what he would find.

Wilson was slumped on the couch, his cloths were wrinkled and slightly stained. He was thin, and there were dark circles under his sunken eyes. He was holding a half empty beer bottle in one hand. His feet were on the table amid a clutter of already empty bottles.

"What the hell?" House hissed to Amber.

"He was devastated by your death. He blames himself."


"He thinks that if he had been in the flat he would have realized something was wrong."

"Where was he?"

"On a date," Amber paused as the door opened and the man from the bar walked in, "with him."

"I'm home Wilson, how are you?"

Wilson shrugged and took another swig of his beer. Bar guy winced, but didn't comment.

"His name is Hosmer Angel." Amber supplied.

"Seriously? Somebody actually named their kid that?" House mocked half-heartedly. Watching in horror as Hosmer Angel dropped onto the couch next to Wilson and kissed him.

"Alright, that's enough of that. Time to go." House said, hurriedly leaving the room.

"Good luck House. Get to Wilson before Hosmer does!"

House woke with a start, to find himself back in his own room. He sighed in relief, then hopped out of bed, throwing on clean clothes. He did not bother to ask what day it was, other parts had been messed up, but if Amber expected him to find Wilson before Hosmer Angel did, then they must have stuck to the one night.

House bust into Wilson's room, to find him already gone. Cursing his luck, House grabbed his coat and, moving as fast as his leg would let him, headed out into the snowy street.

He wracked his brain, trying to remember what the bar had looked like. He practically screamed for joy when he realized that not only did he know the bar, it wasn't too far away. Easily within walking distance. House set off, whipping out his cell as he went.

"House? What do you want?" Cuddy's voice snapped.

"I wanted to tell you that if Rachel starts acting strange, bring her to me immediately. Also, I'm sorry for trying to break you and Lucas up. I think you deserve to be happy, and Lucas can make you happy."

"House? Did you hit your head or something?"

"Thanks for your confidence in me! I've got to go save Wilson now. Merry Christmas!" he shut the phone and walked into the bar.

He spotted Hosmer making his way towards Wilson and sped up to intercept him.

"You should turn around now." He growled, brushing past the younger man and making his way to Wilson.

He froze for a moment to gather his courage. Then he took a step closer and said, hesitantly, "Wilson?"

"House?" Wilson whipped around, frowning in confusion.

"Merry Christmas," House told him, leaning forward and pressing their lips together.

Wilson pulled back, grinning cheekily, "God bless us every one!"