Sioux Falls was about as safe as any town in the world, or so Martha had heard. It was in the middle of nowhere, which meant that practically no Toclafane plagued the region. It was more or less on Martha's route to the west coast of the United States. Best of all, she had heard that there was a formidable resistence movement in the town.

If there was any such resistence movement, they were keeping themselves well-hidden. The town seemed utterly deserted. As Martha walked through the streets, she didn't even bother trying to hide herself. The TARDIS key around her neck served that purpose well enough, and even without it there seemed to be no one around to notice her.

The residents of Sioux Falls must have left in a hurry. Front doors were left open and cars were abandoned throughout the town. Martha surveyed all of this with a measure of pity and disappointment. The whole point of her trek was to tell as many people as possible about the Doctor. If Sioux Falls was deserted, then that was a few days out of her year that Martha had wasted.

Just as she considered leaving the town, Martha heard something move a few yards away. She looked around but saw nothing. She grabbed the gun at her side and cocked it, ready for any oncoming trouble. She proceeded warily down the street.

Martha sensed it before she saw it: a Toclafane flew out from behind a building. It headed straight at Martha, but she was ready for it. She aimed her gun and fired twice. Both shots hit the metal orb with a solid 'clunk', but it kept coming. Martha raised her gun to fire again. Then she saw two more Toclafane coming out from the sewers, and she decided to make a run for it.

Somewhere down the street, the brakes of a car screeched loudly. There was shouting, but Martha couldn't tell what the voices were saying. She was trying to run and shoot at the same time, which was proving to be difficult. A well-aimed bullet took down one of the Toclafane; the other two only seemed to be getting faster. Martha turned and focused all of her energy on running.

Up ahead, two people stood beside a shiny black car. They both had large shotguns aimed at the two remaining Toclafane. Round after round exploded from their guns. Martha ran faster, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the flying orbs. When she reached the car, she turned and raised her gun into the air. Except nothing was coming; the Toclafane were rolling meekly on the ground.

Martha looked at the people with the shotguns. One was a middle-aged woman with a motherly air about her, and the other was a young man with hair that flopped into his eyes. Martha recognized the young man. In fact, she had met him twice before.

"Sam?"

"Martha?"

They both smiled.

"You two know each other?" said the woman.

"Yeah," said Sam, "We've met a few times before. Ellen, this is Martha. Martha, this is Ellen."

"Nice to meet you, Martha," said Ellen. A southern lilt coloured her speech.

"Pleasure to meet you too, Ellen," replied Martha.

"Let's hop in the car," said Ellen, "We should get out of here before more of those things show up."

Sam politely held open the door for Martha while she climbed into the back seat. Sam got in the driver's seat while Ellen sat shotgun. Sam floored the gas pedal, and the car sped out of Sioux Falls and into more rural territory.

"Where are we going?" asked Martha.

"Home base," said Ellen, "We've heard a lot about you, Martha Jones."

Martha wasn't surprised. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, she found that her story preceded her in most of the places she visited. The tale of Martha Jones seemed to have spread like wildfire in these dark times.

"I've heard a few things myself," said Martha, "Rumors say that there's a resistence group in Sioux Falls."

"Not quite in Sioux Falls," said Ellen, "But just about."

After a few more minutes, they pulled into an old car lot. Most of the cars were rusted out or smashed beyond recognition. At the heart of the car lot was an old house. Sam parked the car right in front, and Martha followed the two of them up to the porch. Sam knocked on the door three times.

"Who's there?" someone asked.

"It's Sam and Ellen. And we brought someone back with us," said Sam.

Martha heard the clicking of several locks, and then the door opened a little bit. Through the crack, Martha could see a sliver of a man in a plaid shirt. Then man opened the door all the way, and the three of them stepped into the house. The man in the plaid shirt quickly shut the door again and secured the row of locks. Then Martha realised that she recognised him.

"Dean?"

The man looked up. He looked just as Martha remembered him. He smiled slightly and said, "Well I'll be damned. Martha Jones. Heard a lot about you, though most of that was just Sam."

Sam punched his brother in the arm. He muttered, "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean quipped. Then he asked, "So how did you find Martha?"

"She was running from a couple of Toclafane," said Ellen.

"And?" said Dean.

"Took 'em straight down," Ellen responded.

"Good," said Dean, "The more of those things we can take out, the better."

Martha hovered on the edge of the conversation as Sam, Dean, and Ellen discussed the Toclafane and the resistence. Martha heard mention of some people named Bobby, Rufus, and Jo. When Ellen and Dean went into another room, Martha pulled Sam aside.

"What is this place?" asked Martha.

"It's … a long story," said Sam.

"I'm listening," replied Martha.

So the two of them sat on an old, worn couch as Sam told Martha about hunting. He told her about monsters and demons, and he told her how his family had become hunters. He told her how when the Toclafane slaughtered a tenth of the human race, the surviving hunters had banded together to form a resistence.

Martha listened intently the whole time. Sam's being a hunter did explain why he had been in that abandoned factory a few months ago. At least, Martha thought it was a few months ago. Since she had been travelling with the Doctor, her idea of time had gone a bit wibbly-wobbly.

"So the last time we met…" said Martha.

"Dean and I were on a hunt, yeah," said Sam, "It was a pretty routine salt-and-burn type thing. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?" said Martha incredulously, "Your whole life is out of the ordinary!"

"You're one to talk," said Sam, "The legendary Martha Jones, the woman who is going to save the world."

"I'm not the one who's going to save us; the Doctor is."

"Where is the Doctor? Last time I saw you, you two were in that big blue box."

"It's called the TARDIS," began Martha. Then she told the same story that she had told in countless other cities, towns, and refugee camps. Other hunters came into the room as she told the tale. All of them were eager to know more about the mysterious Doctor and his blue box, and Martha was more than happy to satisfy their curiosities. She talked well into the evening, relating tales of all her adventures through time and space. Someone brought her a beer and a sandwich at one point, and Martha talked between bites. Everyone listened with rapt attention, especially Sam.

When Martha finished, Sam showed her to a room she could stay in for the night. As they walked through the upstairs hall, Martha noticed that the house was one big armoury. Weapons of all kinds were stored almost everywhere, from guns resting on large shelves to knives tucked on top of doorframes.

"You really weren't kidding about being a hunter," said Martha, gesturing to one such stock of guns.

"Yeah, well, desperate times," said Sam with a grim smile.

He held open a door for Martha, and she stepped into a room cluttered with boxes, weapons, and stacks of books.

"Sorry about the mess," said Sam, "This is Jo's room. She's gone out to meet up with a couple of other hunters, and since she's been gone a few days we've been storing extra stuff in here."

"I don't mind," said Martha, "It's the most space I've had in a while."

She sat on the side of the bed while Sam lingered just inside the room. Martha took her gun out of its holster and placed it on the nightstand next to a book titled Demonology in Medieval Europe.

"So what about you, Sam?" asked Martha, "I know you told me what you and the other hunters have been up to, but how are you?"

"I've been…good," lied Sam. Martha gave him a look, so Sam sat down next to her and continued. "This past year has just been a lot to handle. My dad, that demon, and now this. There are days when I just want to give up."

"I know the feeling," said Martha, "But you can't give up, not for one second. Because people need you. There's a whole world full of people that you can't let down."

Martha was talking as much about Sam as she was about herself. She could tell that Sam knew it too, because his face was nothing but sympathetic.

"Everyone believes in you, Martha," he said, "The whole world is talking about how you're going to save us all. I know you said that it's the Doctor who's going to do it, but you're just as important."

Martha didn't know how to reply, so she just smiled back at Sam.

"So where are you headed from here?" asked Sam.

"I'm making my way to the west coast, though it won't be a straight route. I want to go to as many towns as I can and spread the word about the Doctor," said Martha.

"Maybe we can help."

"I couldn't ask any of you to put yourselves in danger like that."

"As if we're in any less danger here."

"You'd be in a lot more if any of you came with me."

"We're hunters, Martha. We've been in danger every day or our lives."

"I just…I couldn't. You have to understand that."

"I do. Goodnight, Martha."

"Goodnight, Sam."

Sam smiled and then left. With a click of the door, Martha was alone once more. She curled up beneath the fraying sheets and quickly fell asleep.

Her dreams were filled with her family. The Master was there too; he was always in Martha's nightmares. It was the same nightmare that she had every night: she was aboard the Valiant again, and the Doctor and Captain Jack were being tortured. Her family was in chains, enduring similarly awful treatment. Part of Martha knew it was a dream, but it didn't make it any less horrible.

She opened her eyes. The room was filled with the soft light or early morning. Her nightmare slipped away like an old nightgown. Martha was glad that it was late enough that she didn't have to try to go back to sleep. She slipped on her shoes, holstered her gun, and went downstairs.

Martha wasn't the only one who had woken early. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen.

"It was a stupid deal and you know it!"

"Oh, so I was supposed to let him die?"

"Well, now we're going to be left with your body instead of his! And a fat lot of use you are to us dead."

"We've argued about this ten times, Bobby. There's no turning back on the deal, so let's just drop it."

Martha stepped into the kitchen. Dean and the bearded man named Bobby looked at her with the air of two people who had just been arguing but wanted to hide it. Martha chose to pretend she hadn't heard anything.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning," said Bobby.

"Hey, Martha," said Dean, "Sleep well?"

"As well as ever," said Martha.

"Help yourself to something to eat," said Bobby.

Martha thanked him and grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter. An effect of the past few hellish months was that she had grown accustomed to very small meals.

"So where are you off to next, Martha?" asked Bobby.

"Anywhere west of here," she replied, "I'm heading to San Francisco, but very indirectly."

"We could give you a lift," said Dean, "We got more than enough cars out there and plenty of hunters."

"That's really nice, but I couldn't ask any of you to do that," said Martha.

"Well, good thing you didn't ask then," said Bobby, "I ain't sending you out there without someone to protect you."

"I can take care of myself," said Martha, a little indignantly.

"I'm not saying you can't. I'm saying it wouldn't hurt to have someone watching your back," said Bobby.

"I could take her," suggested Dean.

"Boy, if you think I'm trusting you alone with her," said Bobby, "When it comes to-"

"I'll do it."

Martha turned to see Sam standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She started to protest, but he said, "I'm not letting you go out there alone, Martha."

"Are you sure about this, Sam?" asked Bobby.

"Positive. Dean, give me the keys to the Impala."

"Woah, hold up there, bro. There's no way I'm giving you my baby," said Dean.

"Come on, Dean. This is the woman who's going to save the world; there's nothing more important that the Impala could do. And I promise that I'll protect her for you," said Sam.

"I swear to god if there is so much as a scratch on that car," threatened Dean.

"I know," said Sam.

"What about…you know," said Bobby, "Are you sure that you'll be back in time?"

"It won't take a year to get Martha to the west coast," said Sam, "I'll be back. Besides, I thought we hadn't given up hope yet."

"We haven't, not completely," said Bobby, "But with the Master taking over, the odds of finding a solution are pretty slim."

Martha wondered what they were talking about. But she knew better than to pry into something that was clearly none of her business.

The four of them spent about a half an hour discussing logistics. While Sam went upstairs to pack some things, Martha and Dean went outside to get the car. Now that she wasn't in life-threatening danger, Martha was able to get a good look at Dean's precious Impala. The car may have been from 1967, but it was still glossy and in nearly perfect condition.

"Be good to my baby, Martha," said Dean. He ran a hand along the hood longingly.

"I will, though I think Sam is going to do most of the driving," said Martha.

A moment later, Sam came out of the house carrying two duffel bags. He opened the trunk, and Martha expected Sam to put the bags in. Instead, Sam lifted up a panel to expose a whole arsenal of weapons.

"Bloody hell," said Martha.

Dean chuckled, then he helped his brother check all of the weapons. Sam also pulled a few guns out of one of the duffel bags and loaded those into the trunk too. Then Sam closed the panel and shut the trunk. He tossed the duffel bags into the back seat and explained, "Clothes and other essentials in one, weapons in the other. I grabbed some of Jo's clothes too. They'll probably fit you well enough."

When all the necessary supplies were in the car, Sam said goodbye to his brother. They embraced and exchanged a few parting words. Then Dean came to say goodbye to Martha.

"Watch yourself," said Dean, "There's a lot of weird stuff out there these days. Good luck."

"Good luck to you too," said Martha.

They shook hands, and then Martha got into the Impala. Sam started the engine, and they drove out of the maze of cars and onto the open road.

Martha opened a map. While they drove, Sam and Martha plotted out their route to the west coast. Martha had a contact in San Francisco who would take her across the Pacific, but getting there would be a lot of trouble. After a few hours of planning, Sam and Martha had a workable route across the country.

The sun fell below the horizon and the sky faded into twilight. Still, Sam drove on. The Impala's headlights flooded out into the darkness. Martha noticed that they weren't on the highway anymore. The trees around them grew denser, and the road shifted from asphalt to dirt. She and Sam continued talking well into the night. Eventually, Sam yawned one too many times, and Martha insisted that they pull over for the night. Sam parked the Impala in a copse of trees, and then they both reclined their seats and settled in for the night.