**2007**
Martha shuddered and hugged herself as she and the Doctor approached the creepy old house.
"Why are we here again?" she asked.
"People keep disappearing. Ten cases so far. Kids on a dare. Lovers. Those who are just curious." He grinned at her over his shoulder. "Like us. Ah, here we are. Alley-oop!"
He laced his fingers together to give her a leg-up. Sighing in resignation, Martha put her foot into his cupped hands and started climbing the wrought iron gate that blocked entry onto the property.
Martha frowned as she climbed. "Why can't we go somewhere nice, like New Zealand? Or Tahiti? And why don't you use your sonic screwdriver to unlock the padlock?"
"Where's the fun in that?" the Doctor asked. "'Just pull out the ol' sonic screwdriver, Doctor.' Naw. Have to do things the hard way once in a while. It's good for the constitution. And we just got back from somewhere nice. I thought you liked the diamond rain of Periaculum V."
"The rain was spectacular," Martha said, swinging over the top of the gate. "The bruises I had afterward weren't so fun."
The Doctor started climbing. "Ah, sorry about that. Faulty personal force-shield. I got my money back from the dealer."
"I thought you jury-rigged those."
"The dealer didn't know that, now did he?" The Doctor grinned.
Martha shook her head. "You're just too much."
The Doctor swung over the top of the fence, and a moment later they both dropped to the ground.
"Here we are, then," the Doctor said, straightening his long coat. "Wester Drumlins. Can't wait to get inside."
Martha shook her head as she took in the sight of the crumbling house. "This is so Scooby Do."
"Who needs a Great Dane? The Doctor is on the case!"
He pulled a flashlight from his pocket, flicked it on, and handed it to Martha. Pulling out a second flashlight, he turned it on and led the way toward the house. Martha smiled and followed him. Despite his half-cocked way of doing things, they usually had a good time, and never a dull moment.
The door to the house creaked open when the Doctor turned the handle and pushed. He grinned back at Martha. "Looks like they're expecting us."
Inside was dank and smelled of mold and dust. Martha stepped gingerly around a fallen chandelier as the Doctor led them farther back into the house. She shivered, goose-bumps lifted the hairs on her arms.
"Doctor, it feels like we're being watched."
"I know," he said softly, stopping to sweep the flashlight's beam around the room.
There was nothing to be seen but cobwebs and disintegrating furniture.
Martha chuckled nervously, shining her flashlight on a pile of dust in one corner. "No monsters here. Just dust bunnies and mold."
"Don't get too close to the dust bunnies," the Doctor said. "You never know which ones have fangs."
"Seriously?" Martha said, giving him an incredulous look.
The Doctor put the flashlight under his chin, throwing weird shadows over his face. His voice was deep and haunting. "Seriously."
Then he grinned and swung around, heading into a study overlooking an overgrown garden. Martha hurried after him. Why did the simplest things have to turn deadly when he was around?
As the Doctor inspected a dilapidated desk for clues, Martha looked out into the garden. It had been lovely once, before everything grew wild. There was still a bit of charm to the trellises dripping with flowers and the rosebushes. There was even a statue of an angel back in one corner, where the beam from her flashlight barely touched.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Martha asked, turning to watch the Doctor.
"Not sure yet." He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and fiddled with it before turning it on. He frowned, changed the setting, and turned it on again, sweeping the room in a broad gesture. "No alien tech." He tried another setting. "No alien biology either." The sonic blipped. "Wait . . ."
The Angel came to life as the female turned away from the window. She and her sisters would feed again tonight. These humans were incredibly stupid. It was almost as if they wanted to be eaten. She lifted her face and inhaled the potential energy the male and female gave off. Her eyes widened at the scent of the male. He'd lived so long. She and her sisters could live for years off his potential energy alone.
She unfurled her wings and flew toward the house.
Martha turned to look out into the garden again as the Doctor played with the sonic. Where was that angel statue? She'd thought it was back in the corner . . . She saw the statue tucked under an overhanging tree. Had it been there before? It seemed closer to the house now. But that was crazy. Statues didn't just move.
"Remind me to run a diagnostic on the sonic when we get back to the TARDIS," the Doctor said. "It's acting funny. First there's no alien biology, then there is, then there isn't."
He flipped the sonic into the air, caught it, and tucked it back into the pocket of his suit coat. "And that's why I don't always realy on the sonic. Let's check upstairs, shall we?"
Martha nodded. "Sure. Unless you want to see if they have something to eat in the kitchen."
He drew a breath to reply, then saw her teasing smile and shook his head. "You humans. All you think about is food, money, and sex."
"Don't forget sleep," Martha said, following as he headed out into the hallway. "We humans love our sleep. I could sleep for days after some of our adventures."
"I've noticed that about you." He grinned at her over his shoulder.
TARDIS. The Angel hissed in pleasure. The male was a Time Lord. She hadn't seen a Son or Daughter of Gallifrey in longer than she could remember.
Sisters, she sent silently. Our male guest is a Time Lord. Don't Dislocate him until we get the key to his TARDIS.
She could feel her sisters' excitement. They could finally leave this place after feasting on the Time Lord.
The stairs were surprisingly sound for such a dilapidated house, and Martha took a moment to look around again. The house really wasn't in that bad a shape. A bit of mold removal, some new carpets and paint, and a good dusting, and it could be livable again. At the top of the stairs, the Doctor paused. Two more angel statues graced the hallway.
"They look like they belong in a graveyard," Martha said as the beam from her flashlight swept over them. "I wonder who they're crying for."
"Crying? Who's crying?" The Doctor shone his flashlight into Martha's face, making her eyes tear.
"Stop that!" She pushed the flashlight down. "The statues. They look like they're crying. Well, that one does anyway."
She pointed to the statue whose face was covered with its hands.
The Doctor turned his flashlight on the angel statue at the end of the hallway, then back to Martha, avoiding her face this time.
"This is no time to be admiring the masonry, Martha. People are disappearing."
He shrugged out of his long coat and threw it over the nearest statue—the one hiding its eyes with its arm. He turned and jogged down the hallway, away from the statues, and disappeared into one of the rooms. Martha sighed and followed.
"So, if there's no alien tech, and no alien biology, what do we look for next?"
"Traps," the Doctor said. He was on his knees, sweeping the flashlight beam under the dilapidated bed.
The key! the Angel hissed to her sisters. Get the key!
Behind Martha, something rustled in the hallway. She looked over her shoulder, but the only thing she saw in the gloom were the angel statues in the hallway. The nearest statue, the one the Doctor had thrown his coat over, looked different. It almost seemed as if it had raised its arm.
She shook her head and turned back to the room. Statues didn't move. It was a fact. Her eyes fell on the Doctor, poking his head into the adjoined bathroom. But then again, only a few months ago, it had been a fact that aliens weren't real. Time travel either. And hospitals didn't get kidnapped to the moon. Anything was possible when the Doctor was around. Dust bunnies had fangs. And statues could probably move too.
The rustling came again.
Martha turned.
The angel held the Doctor's coat in one hand, its other hand thrust into a pocket.
"Doctor?" she called, a note of hysteria in her voice. She didn't take her eyes off the statue. Her heart thudded in her chest.
She heard him walk up behind her. Felt his warmth on her back. The Doctor fidgeted with something, probably putting on his brainy specs. He let out a long, slow breath.
"I am so thick." He sounded resigned—as if he'd just realized he'd made a big mistake. "How many have you seen?"
She looked back at him. His eyes were fixed on the statues.
"Three. One in the garden, and these two here."
"Look behind me," the Doctor instructed, not blinking. "Are there any Angels in the room?"
Martha peered around the Doctor, searching the room with her flashlight. "No. Wait! Yes, in the corner."
"Damn," he muttered. "Martha, listen to me. The statues aren't statues."
"I gathered that."
"Don't interrupt. I need you to keep your eyes on the Angel behind me. Don't look away. Don't blink. If you blink, we're dead."
Martha's heart skipped a couple of beats, then started hammering. Her eyes widened in fear. "Doctor, what's going on?"
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'll explain it all later—possibly much later if this goes bad—but for now, just don't blink. I need to get my coat. We can't let them have the TARDIS key. Just don't blink and we may get out of this."
Martha kept her eyes glued to the statue in the corner, and did a little shuffle dance with the Doctor so that he could get around her, without either of them taking their eyes off their respective statues, and into the hallway. She heard rustling, then fabric tearing.
"Doctor?"
"Kind of busy here, Martha. You're not blinking, are you?"
"'Course not." Martha's eyes were starting to water though. She closed one eye, making sure to keep the other focused on the statue, then opened her eye very deliberately, and closed the other. She didn't know how long she could keep this up. "What if I back into the hallway and close the door?"
"Can you hold it against—let's see, what's a good equivalent? Oh, yes! Can you hold that door against Godzilla?"
"You're joking!"
"Weeping Angels are very fast, and very strong. Staring at it is your best bet."
"Not when my eyes are tearing, and I can't see a thing."
"Hang in there, Martha Jones. And don't blink!"
More ripping sounds.
"What are you doing?"
"Did I mention Angels are strong? This one won't give up my coat."
Martha couldn't stand it any longer. She blinked. Just a fraction of a second.
The Angel stood only a few feet from her, it's once calm, angelic face twisted into a demonic snarl complete with fangs.
"Oh God!"
Her flashlight started to flicker.
"I told you not to blink!" the Doctor yelled.
Martha banged her flashlight against her hand, the beam continued to flicker growing dim, then bright. She dug into her coat pocket. "I'm calling the police."
"No! That would just endanger more people."
"Look, you said that I have to keep staring at this statue, or Angel, or whatever. If the place is swarming with cops, then there'll be that many more eyes to keep the Angels still. If the lights go out, we're in trouble."
Despite what he'd said about Angels being strong, Martha backed out of the room, shut the door, and braced herself. She blinked furiously, dialed the emergency number, then focused on the Angel at the far end of the hallway.
"I've got the far one," she said. "Get your coat."
Something pulled at the door. It was strong, but no stronger than a human, as far as she could tell. She could hold it for a bit.
Martha's flashlight went dead. "Doctor!"
His flashlight was flickering wildly too.
Something grabbed Martha's ankle. Another Angel snarled up at her from the stairway, its arms reaching through the bannister.
Martha screamed. "Doctor, there's another one! It's got my leg!"
"Let her go!" the Doctor roared.
The flashlight flickered.
The Angels moved.
The coat ripped free of the Angel's grip, but something flashed in its other hand.
"No!" the Doctor cried.
"Emergency service, what is the nature of your emergency?" a woman's voice said in Martha's ear.
"Help—"
The Angel in the stairwell grabbed the Doctor's ankle.
Martha dropped her phone and grabbed the Doctor's arm.
Everything went black.
**1969**
Martha slammed into a wall, dizzy and sick. She slid down into a sitting position. For a moment, she didn't dare open her eyes.
Someone had landed next to her, breathing harshly.
"D-Doctor?"
"Yes, Martha Jones."
"Where are we?"
"No idea. Give me a minute. Time travel without a capsule. Nasty."
Martha opened one eye, then the other. They were on a street. Well, in an alley. "We're not dead."
"Technically, no."
Martha turned to look at him. He was pale and clutched his coat tight to his chest. She probably didn't look much better.
"What just happened?"
He gave her half a smile. "One thing at a time, please. Do you want to know where we are, or what happened?"
"Either. Both. Why aren't we dead? You said if I blinked, we were dead."
"The Weeping Angels zap you into the past and live off your potential energy. Right now, they're feasting on all the days we might have lived."
Martha hugged herself. She felt somehow violated. "So, we are going to die. Here in the past. Well, I am. My family will never know what happened to me." She blinked and tears fell down her cheeks. "But you'll live, right? You can find my family in a few years and tell them what happened?"
"You're not going to die, Martha." The Doctor fished around in his coat pocket and held up a plastic folder. "'Keep it on you' she said. And I have."
"How will that help? The Angels have the TARDIS key. They probably have the TARDIS by now. What's a folder full of paper supposed to do?"
"It's our ticket outta here."
He opened the folder and started leafing through the pages. "First things first. We need to get you a wallpapering job."
**2007**
Men and women in uniform swarmed over Wester Drumlins, combing the grounds for the woman who'd called emergency services. DI Billy Shipton stood on the porch, holding the cell phone the woman had called from. It was all they'd found so far.
"Eleven," he muttered.
"What?" his sergeant inquired.
"Eleven disappearances now."
"First phone call, though," the sergeant said. "That's something. And the fake phone box. That was new."
Forensics had packed up the blue box almost two hours ago and taken it to the garage that held all the other Wester Drumlin evidence.
Billy shook his head. "It's not enough. This has got to stop."
"We'll figure it out, Billy. Come on. Let's go get some coffee."
The Angel cursed, locked inside her stone skin. The TARDIS was gone. The Time Lord too. And there were too many eyes watching, keeping her and her sisters from following the TARDIS to see where it had been taken.
Not only that, something was wrong with the Time Lord's potential energy. The female human's too. She and her sisters should have been vibrant with the energy; fast and strong. But they were still weak.
The Son of Gallifrey didn't have his time machine, so he couldn't return and reclaim his potential energy. So what was wrong?
There will be others, her sisters whispered. The humans think us statues. Others will come, and we will feast again. And we have the TARDIS key.
The four Angels settled down to wait. They were used to waiting.
In time, they would feed again.
Then, they would go hunting for the blue box.
A/N: I have no real idea of how emergency services work in the UK (despite many hours spent watching Midsummer Murders), so I apologize for any terrible lapses in protocol. Thank you for suspending your disbelief and going with it, and thanks for reading!