Yay Chapter Three! I had planned to end this episode with this chapter, but apparently I'm not done yet, so you'll have to wait a while longer. Weirdly I was listening to Celtic Woman while writing this and it seemed to help keep the words flowing. Not really something I would have thought of, but whatever works, I guess.

I don't think I mentioned this yet, so I'm mentioning it now. I have never in my life seen any of the Classic Who, so the characters and Doctors from those years are probably going to be very OOC. I apologize, but I'm tweaking all the characters to suit my needs anyway. If you want to give advice on how the characters really act for future reference, that would be great. But really the Classic characters will only be in a few episodes, so it hardly matters.

Enough of my babbling! On with the Chapter!

Disclaimer: Still own nothing...

It was only a few minutes after the police left the Lizzie calmly walked up to the guest room and passed out. Greg had stayed up a few hours after that, sitting by the window, waiting for his baby sister to return. Sarah Jane knew he felt guilty for letting Billie go out by herself. It was only after he spilled tea on her carpet, having dozed off in the chair that she was able to convince him to go to bed. He promptly went upstairs to the room Billie had claimed as her own a few years ago, climbed under the pink Disney Princess blanket, and drifted off clutching one of the dolls that littered the room.

Sarah Jane sighed, restlessly tidying up the already perfectly clean living room. Her nerves made it impossible to sit still. She had complete faith that the Doctor and Professor would be able to find her niece, but why was it taking so long? Could Billie really have gotten that far?

She finally plopped down into a chair, exhausted, only to hop back up when the front door swung open and male voices floated into the room. She made a mad dash to the hall where she found the Doctor frowning at the Professor and scolding him about an "overreaction". The Professor was standing stiffly, leaning towards the door like he wanted to get out of there quickly, a crumbling arm of some sort of statue clutched in his hand. But what made Sarah Jane's stomach drop was the lack of Billie in their midst.

"You didn't find her?" she asked, heartbroken and astonished all at once. She had been so sure they would succeed.

The Doctor turned to face her, shifting uncomfortably, "Not exactly."

She narrowed her eyes, "What do you mean?"

The Professor held up the arm, "It seems she had a little run in with a Weeping Angel. They're aliens who only exist when you look away. Otherwise they look like normal stone statues."

"Oh no," Sarah Jane shook her head in denial, tears prickling at her eyes.

"Don't worry," the Doctor quickly assured her, "Billie is perfectly safe. Angels don't kill. They simply send their victims back in time so they can feed off the potential timelines the person left behind."

"And you think that's better!" she screeched indignantly, "She's nine-years-old, alone, in God knows what year, and you think I should be happy about that!"

"No," the Professor stated calmly. "We expect you to trust us. I brought back the arm of the Angel that attacked your niece. We'll be able to follow the signal, find her, and bring her back before daybreak."

Without thinking, Sarah Jane launched herself at the Professor. They had never really been the best of friends. In reality, the only reason she put up with him at all was for the Doctor's sake, and that was the only way she could travel and see the stars. So the fact that she willingly hugged him, or more like tackled him, was a shock to everyone present.

Awkwardly, the Professor padded her back and pulled away, clearing his throat, "Yes, well. We should be off then."

Chuckling, the Doctor swooped in to give her a hug as well, "Don't worry, Sarah Jane. She'll be fine. The Professor seems unusually determined to make this right."

Sarah Jane was about to question him, but he vanished out the door before she could put her thoughts into words. A moment later she could hear the faint sound of the TARDIS dematerializing.


The Professor quickly attached the Angel's arm to the console while the Doctor prepared for flight. The TARDIS hummed in the back of their minds, already caught up on everything that had happened. Even she was furious at what had happened to Billie. The Professor stroked the console, trying to sooth the angry emotions emanating through their mental link.

We'll find her, old girl, he thought.

"Aha!" the Doctor exclaimed, drawing the Professor's attention. "Got it! She's in 1941. Oh, no!"

Oh no was right. The poor girl had been sent back right in the middle of the London Blitz. Rassilon knows what could happen in the short time it took to locate her.

They hurried to set the coordinates and launch the TARDIS straight into the raid of London in World War Two. Surprisingly, the TARDIS shook less than usual during flight. Especially considering they were heading for a warzone. The landing was just as bad as ever, however. Both men fell back to the floor when the TARDIS crashed to the ground.

The Professor jumped up and made a beeline for the door. Outside the world was going to hell. The dark sky was filled with planes zooming by, dropping booms all over London. Red glows and black smoke brought awareness to distant fires. It still amazed him that despite all this destruction caused by the Germans, England still refused to give up and ended up winning. Of course they had help, but that was beside the point. For such a little country, these people had a whole lot of courage and pride. Enough to win wars against multiple countries.

But his own problems to worry over. The TARDIS had landed as close to the time and place where Billie had been sent as she could.

"Right," he turned to look at the Doctor, "Billie must have dropped somewhere around here. You go check towards that area, I'll go this way."

The Doctor nodded, not willing to argue in such an important situation and wandered away down the street. The Professor watched him go before turning down an alley behind some houses, pulling out his Sonic Screwdriver as he went. It only took a second to pick up traces of the odd psychic energy the girl gave off. She had definitely dropped here. What worried him was the fact that the traces were minimal, old. It had been at least forty-eight hours since Billie landed in 1941.

Sighing, the Professor shoved back the anxiety that immediately pricked at his consciousness and searched for a stronger signal. It wasn't really difficult. If the signal was unique in 1995, it was impossible to find anything close to it in 1941. A small blip popped up a half a dozen blocks away. The Professor picked up his pace, practically jogging down the road toward the girl out of her time.

The signal got stronger as he approached a rather large, well-kept house at the end of the last block. Two small ragged children ran up the steps as he watched, pulling the door closed behind him. That wasn't right. The air raid was still causing havoc in the skies. Families should be hiding in their bomb shelters. Now that he was thinking of it, shouldn't those children have been evacuated to the country by now?

Nevermind that. Billie was in that house, and at the moment that's all he was concerned about.

Lengthening his strides, the Professor silently pushed through the door and inched forward, listening to the sounds of cutlery clinking against plates and the light chatter of children's voices.

"Billie?" a slightly older female voice asked, concernedly. "What's wrong?"

There was a beat of silence as every child in the other room waited for the answer. The Professor froze, part of him realizing exactly what was wrong.

"Someone's here," a quiet voice answered.

Another beat of silence before everything erupted into chaos.


After initially scaring the crap out of her, Nancy had turned out to be really nice. She explained to Billie that she helped all the children living rough in the streets, and would be more than happy to help Billie out as well, seeing as the nine-year-old didn't have any idea where she was let alone what year it was. Luckily, Nancy just took this to mean that Billie had suffered some sort of traumatic event. Billie couldn't really correct her since she didn't really know what was going on either.

Nancy acquired more suitable clothes for the era, though Billie refused to get rid of her bright pink jacket her Aunt had bought her, despite the fact that it made her stick out so much. In return Billie helped gather food and necessities with Nancy and the other children. Soon she was a highly skilled pickpocket. Aunt Sarah would not be very happy with her about that, but what else could she do. She had to survive in some way until she could find a way home.

It wasn't until night that everything came crashing back down on her. She couldn't stop the tears from flowing relentlessly down her cheeks, or the nightmares that made her wake in a cold sweat, still sobbing into the "borrowed" pillow. All she could see were those evil Angels coming after her, reaching out to take hold and toss her even further back in time. She was sure they were to blame. Some instinct told her that if she hadn't ran into those horrid statues she could be curling up with a book in front of Aunt Sarah's fireplace while sipping hot chocolate like she always did.

The fear and anger everyone's mind kept screaming at her wasn't helping whatsoever. Not only was she plagued by her own demons, but the rest of the neighborhood's as well. Nightmares of the war, the bombs, the families that harmed the children when they were evacuated before they ran away, everything rushed into her head the moment she put her guard down long enough to rest, making sure she never had a moment's peace.

She had been there for about two days when she and Nancy found a home with a full dinner set out on the table while they cowered in the shelter outside. Immediately Billie stepped outside to whistle out the signal while Nancy started carving the ham. Soon the whole table was crowded with kids of all ages digging into a meal fit for the Queen. At least it seemed that way to them, none of whom had had a decent meal in some time.

They were all chatting happily when it happened. Billie stiffened in her chair as she felt the presence enter her awareness. A grown man had just walked into the house. None of the family, she knew. She could still hear their "voices" in the shelter. No, this man was a stranger. His mind was even stranger than that. It was so big! She could feel the whole weight and power of it, gently pressing toward her, as if checking to see if she was there. She'd never felt anything like it. Minds didn't generally press against hers. Normally it was more like they accidently rushed into hers, the people not noticing or meaning to. But this man was different. Somehow he could control it, could purposefully reach out to her from afar.

"Billie?" Nancy's voice floated toward her from afar. She blinked and turned toward the other girl. "What's wrong?"

Was something wrong? Billie quickly worked through it. The man had stopped moving at the sound of Nancy's voice, but his mind stayed calm, gentle. He meant no threat, but that didn't mean too much. They were still a bunch of children, living on the streets during the Blitz, breaking into homes and eating other people's dinners while they hid from bombs. Billie ignored the twinge of guilt, deciding just to tell the truth.

"Someone's here," she answered, trying to speak in a way not to scare everyone. It didn't work. The moment the words left her lips, the whole table erupted in a chaotic rush to gather as much food as possible and find a back way out.

Ignoring the others' urgency, Billie slowly rose from her seat and swung her coat on before heading towards the front hall.

"Billie!" Nancy hissed behind her. "Come back here!"

Shaking her head, Billie stepped out into the hall to face the stranger. She bit her lib to stop a giggle from escaping. Never had she seen a more ridiculous outfit on a grown man. Then again, maybe he worked as a clown; that could explain all the color at least. His lips twitched as if he could hear her amusement.

"I can," he told her in a deep, soothing voice.

Her eyes widened. He had heard her thoughts!

"Yes, I did," he said, rubbing his forehead. "I'd forgotten how intense an untrained telepath can be."

Tilting her head to the side, Billie questioned, "Telepath?"

"Yes. It means you can read minds."

She nodded. Nice to know there was a word for it. Not that it helped her all that much.

"Billie," Nancy scolded again, suddenly appearing behind her and gripping her elbow. "Let's go."

"That's alright," the man said calmly. "I can take care of Billie from here. Thank you for your help."

Nancy's eyes narrowed, "I'm not going to just let you take her."

The man smiled softly, "Good. I would have been concerned if you had. But you need not worry. Her Aunt sent me to collect her and bring her home."

Feeling only honesty from his mind, Billie's heart immediately soared, a smile breaking out into a huge smile.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Nancy growled.

He sighed, "Her full name is Billie Jean Carter. She was born in South London, and she got lost after running out of her Aunt Sarah Jane's house by herself."

"And she's standing right here!" Billie chuckled, turning to Nancy, wrapping her arms around the older girl in a quick embrace. "It's okay Nancy. He's telling the truth."

She sighed, "Alright. You take care of yourself, Billie. If you ever need anything…"

"You've already done enough Nance." Billie gave her one last smile before spinning back to the man who held out his hand. She took it, allowing his large fingers to wrap protectively around her smaller ones.

"What's your name?" she asked innocently as they walked out into the street.

"Call my Professor," he said simply, heading away from a blaze lit up the sky some distance away.

"Professor," she whispered. She tilted her head back to see him better, "Isn't that like a teacher?"

"Sort of, yeah."

"I want to be a teacher when I grow up." He didn't answer, but his lips twitched. Billie took that as a sign to keep talking. "Or a librarian. I love libraries."

They lapsed into silence, walking along the road as the all-clear horn sounded and people emerged from their hideouts to continue their evening.

"Tell me," the Professor finally spoke, "Why on Earth did you go into that old house in the first place?"

"I heard voices," she answered honestly, tapping her head so he knew what she was talking about, and shrugged. "I was curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," he chuckled lightly.

"Satisfaction brought it back," she countered, grinning.

He laughed out loud this time, shaking his head at her. The rest of the walk was spent in companionable silence, their hands clasped between them.