They stood there staring at each other. Their lives were over.
Or so everyone thought.
They were once the greatest assassins, hunting through time and space. They had incredible powers, such as turning to stone so as not to be caught. But their greatest gift turned into their greatest curse when The Doctor made them look into each other's eyes.
They were forever doomed to be stone statues, standing there, with faces meant to induce terror. That wasn't even the worst of it. They were not only stuck as statues, they were stuck in time. Time would never move in that house again. It was trapped.
It would always look like they were holding hands. Only a few would know the truth. And anyone looking at them would think they were merely statues stuffed into a basement because no one liked them anymore.
But that wasn't the truth.
They were the weeping angels who sent people back in time to live out their life while the angels consumed the energy of the life the people should have lived. Their existence was taken away from them in a split second.
But they weren't dead.
Thoughts spun through each one's head. Thoughts of how to free themselves from this trap. Thoughts of revenge against the man with the blue box. Thoughts of revenge against The Doctor.
That's all they did. All they could do. Think about everything. And they all thought the same thing, for they were all connected. Four minds all saying the same thing.
Then one day, there were only three thoughts. One had died, because they had not been able to get energy in so long. It was a strange feeling. The voice had just faded away until there was silence. They had never been without the others, never on their own. There had always been four voices.
Not anymore.
The three continued their thoughts of revenge. They were stronger now. The angels blamed The Doctor for the death of the other one. They continued thinking for a while.
Then, a little while later, they lost another one. This one had been having strange thoughts right before its death. But now it was gone. Now there were only two voices. The younger ones. The ones whose energy would last a little longer.
They thought, frightened of dying like the others. They wanted to be free again. But their thoughts were becoming meaningless. They were just scattered, lost thoughts.
Eventually, another one faded away. Until it was only the youngest one of the bunch. It was frightened. It didn't like being alone. It needed companionship.
It lived alone as a statue for what felt like years and years. But of course, no time had passed, since the house was trapped in time. Its energy wouldn't fade away. It continued to live, though it would have preferred death at this point. All its thoughts were about dying, how it would feel, when it would happen.
Then, it felt something strange. It wasn't death, this feeling. It was a feeling that hadn't been felt by the weeping angel in such a long time.
It was movement.
The angel could move again.
This was betaed by Scout Girl and thanks to her for the title!!!!