A bit shorter than I orginally hoped for, but I just couldn't bring myself to add on to it. This chapter I believe is perfect as is. Definitely one of my favorite pieces of work, if I must say so myself. =D But seriously, I'll try to writes a bit longer chapters for this story, like I do for The New Frontier. No promises, but I'll try. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Doctor Who. I could bring back Billie Piper and David Tennant if I did. But alas I do not, so we must all suffer in (relative) silence. Sigh.

The shouting was giving her a headache. Worse than the constant one she'd had since she could remember, anyway. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen this coming. The moment her mother announced they'd be going to see her Aunt Sarah, Billie knew there would be a row. A very loud one, at that. She also knew why her mother wanted to come. It was never just a visit with her baby sister that drew her to Ealing; there was always a catch. Apparently, from what Billie could gather, eavesdropping at the top of the stairs of her Aunt's home with her older brother, their mum had gone and given the rent money to some guy who promised her the world and then ran off. This wasn't the first time that had happened either. Ever since her husband died eight years ago, Lizzie Carter had had a string of one night stands and destructive relationships. Billie being the product of one of said relationships. Or was it one of the one night stands. She couldn't remember, despite the fact that her mother liked to point out what a mistake she was whenever she got pissed. So almost every day, really.

Never one to linger in self-pity, Billie turned back to the row below. Aunt Sarah was furious. Not only because of the wastefulness of Lizzie, or the bad choices she made daily, but also because she had been packing to leave on holiday when they'd barged in. Only Lizzie Carter would expect her younger sister to drop everything to bail her out of trouble. Again.

"But what about Greg and Billie?" her mother yelled. Billie knew she was only mentioned because Aunt Sarah actually cared about her. Calling once a week to check on how school was and things like that. She was always the person Billie relied on most in life. If her mother was dragging her name into this for sympathy points, then she must be desperate.

Billie sighed, "I need some air."

Greg just nodded, knowing she needed be alone at the moment. They both hated being pawns in their mother's twisted games. He squeezed her hand in sympathy before she moved quietly down the stairs, peering around the banister to check that the coast was clear before nabbing her coat on the hook near the door and hurrying out, closing the door as silently as possible behind her. It wouldn't do to get caught and then have her mother yell at her for the next hour instead of Aunt Sarah.

Tucking behind her ears straggly brown locks that had fallen out of the hastily made ponytail, Billie trudged down the street, trying and failing to block out the cacophony of voices pressing in on her mind. Ever since she could remember, she heard them. Voices everywhere. So many, sometimes it was hard to hear her own thoughts. When she told her mum, she'd called her crazy and threatened to send her to a child therapist. Until she found out the cost that is. Then she just ordered her daughter never to mention the voices ever again or she'd be taken away. That was enough to scare any four-year-old into submission.

It wasn't until about two years ago she started to catch on to what they really were. It was during one of the nights her mother had a boyfriend over. Amongst all the babble of voices in her head, Billie started to hear one voice above the rest. A male voice she'd heard before. She glanced over to the man sitting on the sofa staring at her, but his lips weren't moving. And yet the voice continued, painting a picture of the most horrid things about her. Things that would disgust even adults. Billie had quickly ran from the room and locked herself in the bedroom she shared with her brother, sinking down to the floor, her back pressed against the door as she sobbed.

She could hear people's thoughts. It was the only explanation she could think of at seven. Now, two years later, she knew it to be fact.

As time grew on, Billie was able to build a small amount of control over it. She could push it all back until it was a dull buzzing noise in the back of her mind, unless of course someone's voice was "yelling". If she concentrated on person's voice she could bring it forward and hear only their thoughts, drowning out everyone else's. But none of this made it go away completely. Every day she heard voices of neighbors and schoolmates and family, some so loud it was like they were screaming in her ear. Her head continually throbbed from all the noise. It was like her own voice was lost, even inside her own head. She had no control of her life, or her mind. She felt so helpless.

Billie growled, wiping a stray tear from her eye as she wondered onto a playground. The day was too overcast for most children to be out playing, so the swing set was wonderfully deserted. Dropping down onto the nearest swing, Billie rubbed her temples, knowing it wouldn't help but having to try anyway. She sighed as she kicked out to push the swing back and forth a little, once again getting lost in the voices of the surrounding populace.

Three eggs, two teaspoons of salt…

Maybe I should tell him about the baby, then…

Grrr, these stupid jeans shrunk again! There's no way…

I hope mom doesn't find those magazines…

The blue or the black? I hope he likes the way I…

Come, little humans. Feed us. Let us feed from your time…

Billie froze at the sound of the hushed, gravelly voice. Feed us? Humans? Something was so not right.

Biting her lip nervously, she reached out with her mind, pinpointing where the thoughts were coming from, while attempting to ignore the actual words they were using. It was far too disturbing.

Finally she found a general location somewhere down the street. She knew if she followed it, the voice (or voices now; it had been joined by three more) would get louder until she finally came upon whoever was thinking. She'd done this more than once when searching for her brother in their crappy school. But did she really want to find the thing thinking about feeding off of people. Yes, her stupid curious side voted. Before she could come to a decision, the voices were bouncing through her head again, making it hard to concentrate.

Sighing, she hopped off the swing and headed down the street, hoping she wouldn't come to regret this later.

Following the voice was easy enough, and the suburban neighborhood didn't question a nine-year-old walking by herself on a summer afternoon, albeit a chilly one so she was never stopped by her Aunt's friendly neighbors. She tugged her coat a little tighter around her small frame as she approached the house the voices were emanating from. Haunted, was the first word that came to mind when she tried to describe it. Clearly no one had lived here for a very long time. The once bright paint was chipped and faded. Shutters hung lopsidedly from boarded up windows and the porch was missing a step. The door was still there but was cracked near the door handle as though someone had tried to kick it in. A chill ran down Billie's spine as she stared up at the building from the safety of the sidewalk. She really should head back to Aunt Sarah's now.

As she turned to do just that, a quick movement in one of the upstairs windows caught her eye. Was she wrong? Was there someone in that house?

A human! A human child! So much potential stored away! We would feast for days!

Once again, her curiosity got overruled her common sense and Billie found herself walking up the cracked cobblestone walkway to the porch. The closer she got to the house, the louder and more excited the voices got. Blood pounded in her ears and her breathing became ragged from nervousness. Yet still her feet carried her closer. She paused at the door, taking in deep lungfuls of moldy smelling air that came off the house in waves.

"I must have a death wish," she murmured, wiping her sweaty palms on her jacket before reaching out to take the door handle.

Surprise, surprise; the door was locked. Exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Billie stepped back from the door. She wanted to run for the hills but some stubborn part of her (okay, so pretty much all of her was this stubborn) refused to give up now. She had a mystery on her hands, like in those novels she loved to read when the voices were quiet. How could she just walk away from that?

Her resolve strengthened, Billie jumped back off the porch to see what lay behind the house. It didn't look like it had a fence so she could probably get into the backyard easily. What she didn't anticipate was an overgrown garden that really should just be called a jungle now. Even with her small stature, she couldn't avoid get poked, scratched, and smacked by various flora as she tunneled her way to the main yard. The grass was long and shaggy and made Billie a little nervous in a superficial way. Who knew what kind of gross creatures were lurking through there?

Quickly, she rushed to the broken glass French doors that led to a sort of breakfast nook. It appeared that some of the plant life had even come inside to take over the house now that people weren't there to control it. Leaves dirtied the floor and made her slip a little as she wandered deeper into the dwelling. Despite the fact that it had no electricity, enough light filtered in through various broken windows to allow a good amount of visibility.

Remembering she'd seen movement earlier, Billie headed toward the once grand staircase that now looked like it was barely hanging on. She picked her way to the top, being extra careful not to be her normal klutzy self and fall face forward to greet the floor personally.

A soft thump and clatter brought her eyes back up from her feet. Her brow furrowed in confusing. A statue of an angel stood near the wall on the landing, its hands raised to cover its eyes, like it was weeping. A prickle of fear raced down her spine as she neared it. The voice in her head started growing louder until she froze, eyes wide, not leaving the statue.

The voice was coming from the statue!

How was that even possible? Completely freaking out, heart pounding like mad, Billie turned to race down the stairs only to let out a terrified scream. Another statue stood at the top of the stairs, its hands reaching out to her with a horrifyingly twisted expression on its face.

Billie took a step back to run in another direction, any direction. And then there was nothing.