The Angels Speak
as told by the Doctor
I whipped out my sonic screwdriver, scanning the angel statue. It was normal. No lack of time energy, no outrageous amount of them, what could it want? It's got to be one of them. It can't be any old normal statue. That would be too easy. I'm clever, I should be able to figure this one out. But first, why this house? Who lives here? If it is a normal statue, then whoever lives here put it there.
I walked over to the dark brown door and knocked four times.
The door opened.
"Hello? And who might you be?" asked a young girl with dark blue eyes and chocolate brown hair that curled around her face.
"Smith. John Smith," I lied, flashing the psychic paper, which now made me a statue inspector...if those even exist.
"Statue inspector? What, do you get paid to look at stone? There's a job for everything nowadays. I'm Abigail," she held out her dainty hand. I shook it, nodding my head.
"Right, now Abigail, if I could just come in. I'd like to ask you a few questions. About the angel statue in your front garden."
"It just turned up this morning. I've never seen it before, anywhere. Called my friend to check and make sure it wasn't some Christmas gift," Abigail explained.
"Oh! Is it Christmas already? Time really does fly. Okay. I need to watch that statue. Have you got a while, Abigail?" I asked, putting on my glasses. I don't need them that desperately, they just make me look more clever.
"I've got time for you," she said.
"What was that?" I asked, knowing exactly what she'd whispered.
"What was what?" Oh, she's good.
"Well, tell me everything you've noticed about that statue. Has it...moved?" That's probably going too far. She'll say I'm mad, which isn't exactly a lie.
"Yes."
"What?"
"It's moved." Well, that's not exactly good news. Well, it's bad. Well, it means we're all in danger, but now I know it's not an ordinary stone angel. What if it wants the TARDIS? Well, I've got the key. Nothing's getting in.
"Listen to me, that's no ordinary stone angel statue. It's a Weeping Angel," I told her.
"Well yeah, looks like it's crying," she replied, a smile forming in the corner of her mouth.
"This is no laughing matter. We're in danger," I told her.
"Why is it here? At my house?" Abigail wondered. I thought for a second.
"I don't know. Usually they need time energy or something. That's what they feed on, the energy that comes off people when they're sent back in time. There's only one in your front garden, so we're not in desperate trouble yet, but if more show up, find me. Look for a blue police box," oh no, she's going to find the TARDIS sooner or later. They always do.
"Oi! You're leaving? We've only just met! And how am I supposed to sleep at night with this angel outside my house? It could get me in the middle of the night!" she protested. I couldn't stay with her. That'd just be awkward.
"Well..." I started to protest.
"Please! I don't want to stay here alone with that...that thing!" she begged. I can't resist humans...especially good-looking females...
"Okay, I'll stay. I should sleep on the couch, though. Don't want any-"
"Yes, yes of course. I'll go get blankets," she said. What have I gotten myself in to? A Weeping Angel in the front garden, and I'm sleeping on the sofa owned by a stranger! I sat down on the sofa to take in my surroundings, and Abigail walked in the room with bedding in her arms.
"Here. I'll make the bed-couch for you. After all, you're doing this because I want you to," she said.
"Oh, no you don't have to. I'm capable of putting bedding on a sofa, Abigail. Let me do it," I protested. She wouldn't have it. I tried to explain to her that I'm a stranger, and I only wanted to observe the angel statue.
"You're a guest in my house, and you're helping me. I'll make the bed. Don't argue with me, Mr. Smith."
"Oh...alright," I gave in. She put sheets and blankets, and finally a pillow on the sofa for me.
~chapter two~
I woke the next morning to a rainy day, but with the smell of pancakes in the house and a growling stomach.
Abigail was in the kitchen cooking a feast of breakfast, though there are only two of us.
"Ah, you're up. How did you sleep?" she asked, holding a spatula.
"Quite well, actually. It's been quite a while since I haven't slept in the TARDIS..." I answered, drifting off into thought.
"Slept in the what?"
"Nothing, nothing. So, did the angel give you any trouble? It looks like it's still stationary," I tried changing the subject.
"It's still there, maybe it is just a normal statue," she suggested, "We can figure out more later. Now's time for breakfast. You like pancakes, yeah? That's all I made. All I'm any good at making," Abigail said.
"Sure. Pancakes are great," I smiled, wondering where this day was going to take me.
Abigail had to get to her job in a shop after breakfast, so I was on my own for several hours' time. I went back to the TARDIS, finally, to make sure it was safe from angels.
There it was. My one companion I knew would never be taken from me. My TARDIS. I smiled and unlocked the doors to the blue police box, locking it behind me.
"Alright, what are we in for?" I asked, talking to myself, although I knew the TARDIS could hear me.
"What do the angels want? What do they need? I have to find out more about them," I decided. I headed to the library, which somehow ended up next to the swimming pool, to find a book on the Lonely Assassins. I've got to have one somewhere. As I was looking, I found many interesting things I'd apparently misplaced. An old cane, a sonic screwdriver I used back when Sarah was with me, and tons of old outfits I had. Sometimes I wondered what I would be like in my next regeneration. Regeneration. The curse of the Time Lords, in my opinion. Never truly living out a life. We're forced to keep living. Ah! Here it is! I knew I'd have a book on the angels somewhere. The Lonely Assassins; Why They're Lonely Assassins. That's kind of a redundant title...
"The Lonely Assassins, or as some like to call, the Weeping Angels, feed off time energy, usually not in large numbers to avoid creating disturbances," I read. Well, I knew that. The angels send people back in time and feed on the energy it brings. That still doesn't have the answer I was looking for. Why is one angel outside Abigail's house? I continued to read.
"In some cases, an angel will wait for one person to either go to a large gathering or hold one at their home, and feed on vast amounts of time energy at once."
No. Abigail! It's not just a statue, it's waiting for her to be surrounded by people. It wants more than just her.
~chapter three~
As I ran back to Abigail's house, I pondered what I'd find there. The angel, of course, waiting. Abigail, relaxing after work, maybe? I had to find out what great gathering she was planning, and how to stop the angel from displacing the humans through the past. This is usually the part where I come up with a clever idea and save the day, but now my mind was empty. I didn't have a clue what to do. That was a change.
I returned to Abigail's house out of breath and sweating.
"What happened to you?" she asked, stopping by me then continuing to the refrigerator. "I'll get you some water."
"Angel..." I stammered.
"It hasn't moved, here's your water, John," she confirmed as she handed me the glass of cold water. I drank the entire glass and asked Abigail if she had plans for the weekend.
"Just a baby shower for one of my friends. It's supposed to be a surprise."
"And this event will take place in your home?" I asked, remembering what I'd read in the book.
"Well, yes," Abigail replied, "Is that a problem? I thought you could stay and just tell people you're my cousin, or if you didn't want to do that you could-"
"Shh!" I interjected "Don't have this baby shower. The angel wants you to. You and your friends will all be in danger if you carry out the party," I explained, trying to be stern and serious to get her to cancel.
"Rubbish. It's just a little party! What's an angel statue gonna do?" she asked, laughing. This was going to be harder than I thought.
"I thought you'd figured it out by now. What that stone angel truly is," I told her.
"I realised I was crazy for thinking it'd moved, and you're crazy for believing me. Statues don't move! They never have, and they never will!" There was a knock at the door. Abigail and I both stopped and looked at the door.
"Abigail," I whispered, "go to the window. Is the angel still there?"
She made her way slowly to the front window where the statue had been only moments ago.
"Mr. Smith... It's gone," she solemnly said. I knew it.
"Don't answer the door," I told her, "And my name's not Smith. I'm the Doctor."
"Doctor? What's your proper name?" she asked. They all usually do.
"Just the Doctor."
"Doctor who?"
"That angel is out there. Don't open the door," I tried changing the subject. I seem to do that a lot.
"What will it do to us? Kill us? Statues don't kill!" Abigail exclaimed, a look of worry and fear on her face.
"Not when you're looking. And they don't necessarily kill, they'll send you back in time. One touch from an angel and you could end up anywhere in history. Not death, but close to it. The only monsters to kill you nicely," I explained, "Are you scared?"
"You seem to know a lot about these creatures. I think you'll be a useful ally in this situation. Don't leave me, Doctor, if that is your name," she pleaded.
"Aw, how could I resist? Weeping Angels have always intrigued me! Last time I met them I was sent to 1969 with my friend Martha!" I probably shouldn't have said that last part.
"You've met them before? And been to 1969? How could you have possibly gotten back here? Time travel?" she inquired, laughing as she mentioned time travel.
"Yep," I stated, "now let's try and cancel this baby shower, okay?"
"Hold on, mister, you've got some explaining to do!" Abigail protested, "First of all, what's your real name? Second, how'd you get back here from 1969? Where are you from? How did you find me? How do you know so much about the angels? Answer me!"
"Doctor. Time travel. Gallifrey. Saw the angel, had to investigate. Read about them in a book," I answered.
She looked at me like I belonged in a mental hospital, which is actually a look I get quite often.
"Gallifrey? Is that even a proper word? Are you just making stuff up? Disrespecting me? Do I come across as a gullible little girl to you?" she harshly asked, almost yelling at me.
"I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. I'm 908 years old, and I'm called the Doctor. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who can help you right now, so are you gonna question me or let me help?"
Abigail looked bewildered.
"Help me, Doctor," was her answer. I loved hearing that.
"Allons-y!" I said, smiling at her.