River pushed open the heavy glass door, holding it as Charlie and Hannah entered. Hannah looked around, frowning at the bustling humans in military attire. River led them towards the front desk, stopping and waiting for the secretary to hang up the phone. She finally did, and looked expectantly at the three women. "Can I help you?"
"My name is Hannah, I'm an angel of the lord," Hannah said, straight-forward. "This is my associate Professor River Song and my human lover Miss Charlie Bradbury. We're here to see Colonel Richardson."
As Charlie flushed deep red and River bit her lip, composing herself, the secretary was hitting a button on the desk. "Security?"
Hannah frowned, looking at Charlie. "Have I done something wrong?"
As Charlie was about to answer, she was interrupted.
"It's alright, they're with me." A woman had just arrived, her dark hair in a messy ponytail and a white medical jacket over her uniform. She smiled brightly. "Charlie!"
"M-Martha," Charlie said in shock, as the women hugged each other quickly.
"Oh, you two are acquainted?" Hannah frowned.
Martha grinned, flushing. "Yeah, you could say that."
"Years and years ago," Charlie was saying.
"We were just kids," Martha added.
"College, you know," Charlie nodded.
River cleared her throat.
"Doctor Smith," she said. "I'm Professor Song."
"Right, of course!" Martha said, taking River's hand. "How is he?"
"He's him, there's no other way to put it," River smirked, and Martha laughed.
"Alright, well, follow me. The Colonel is expecting you," Martha said, leading them to an elevator. "So Charlie, what has life thrown at you?"
"A little of this and a lotta that," Charlie grinned cheekily, emphasizing the word "that" with a slight smack on Hannah's backside.
Hannah looked shocked. "You said we can't do that anymore."
"I said you can't because you left a bruise on my ass."
"It was my first time slapping something affectionately," Hannah explained, and Martha looked like she would explode with giggles.
"What about you?" Charlie smiled.
"Oh, you know. Living here in New York, settled down with the husband. Two little ones and a third on the way." She laid a hand across her flat stomach. "Just found out a week ago."
"Congrats!" Charlie said.
"Would you like to know the sex?" Hannah asked innocently, and Martha looked confused.
"I don't think it has one yet," she laughed nervously, but Hannah stared at the stomach intently and said, "It's a girl."
"Well, that'll make Mickey happy," Martha chuckled. "He's been wanting a girl." As the elevator door opened, she smiled and led them down the hallway.
"The Colonel has been working on this Master thing for years, since the last time we had a problem," Martha explained, sliding a keycard through a slot and waiting as a door opened. "Jack stopped by yesterday before leaving, with Mycroft Holmes of all people. There was too much information for them to take with them, though, so we'll have to send it over." She led them down a hallway, knocking on a wooden door. "Colonel, sir, Professor Song and her associates are here."
The door opened, and a man ushered the woman in. Hannah looked around the office in awe – the walls were holographic, showing maps of the world. It was beautiful.
When her eyes landed on Colonel Richardson, though, her eyes widened. His face was disoriented, and his soul was a black and red bundle of tendrils, so different from Charlie's soft golden light.
"Move back," she commanded the others, an angel blade sliding from her sleeve.
"What on earth –?" Martha said, and her eyes widened as Hannah lunged at the Colonel. Richardson was quick on his feet, sliding to his left. He kicked the angels feet out from under her and grabbed her blade.
"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas," Charlie spoke quickly, and Richardson flinched, turning on her. "Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis –" Charlie was cut off at a peculiar noise. She swallowed, and looked down, realizing it had been the sound of a blade ripping through the skin of her stomach. She stared at the blade, frowning in confusion, before trembling with a slight shock of pain as the blade was jerked back out of her.
She didn't know how she ended up on the ground; she was just there, Martha yelling something – well, her lips were moving, but there were no words coming out. Actually, there was no sound at all.
There was a flashing light as Richardson was impaled by River, who had managed to get the blade back from the demon, and suddenly Hannah was beside Charlie, her eyes wide with fear.
"Charlie? Charlie?" she called, though it seemed as the girl couldn't hear her. Hannah looked desperately at Martha. "Please, fix her!"
"Don't move her," Martha said quickly, putting pressure on the wound. "She's in shock. This wound goes straight through her, I don't think . . ." she shook her head, looking at River and Hannah, her eyes tearing up. "I don't think I can."
"But you're a doctor!" Hannah exclaimed, feeling the odd sensation of tears welling in her eyes. "Doctors heal people, correct?"
"Sweetie, it's a miracle she's held on this long," River said softly, laying her hand on the angels shoulder.
Hannah shook her head. "She – she's too far gone, I don't think I can heal her . . ." Her face turned grim. "I have to save her. Charlie, look at me? Do you understand?" she asked firmly, taking Charlie's head in her hands. Charlie blinked a shuttering little wink.
Hannah swallowed, feeling very emotional. "I can save you but only if you let me. You have to let me in, Charlie. Will you let me in?"
Charlie opened her mouth, trying to reply, but instead blood just trickled from her mouth. Finally, she choked up one word.
"Yes."
Hannah nodded and stood, taking a deep breath. "They knew we were coming, the demons," Hannah told the others. "I can hear a bomb under the desk. Get everyone in the building out."
"But what about you?" Martha asked desperately.
Hannah almost smiled, her face grim. "I'll be fine. I'll be with Charlie."
". . . and then Sammy fixed me. And we've been doing some hunting. A couple of werewolves, a goddess, just getting ourselves back into the game. Then all this crazy happened."
Dean took a long drink of beer as he finished his story, tossing three cards on the table. "Three aces."
"Bull." Ellen watched as Dean sighed, taking the cards back and then some. "You gotta work on your game face, boy."
"Two twos." Bobby tossed his cards on the table and took a drink of beer.
"Four threes," Clara said proudly, laying her cards down.
"Bull," Jo said, and Clara grinned. "Read 'em and weep."
Jo grumbled as she gathered the cards, and Sam chuckled and kissed Clara's cheek from behind her. She was perched delicately on his lap, her legs crossed and Sam's arms wrapped around her waist as they shared their cards.
"Three fours," Ash said, tossing his cards in and puffing on a cigar.
"Five fives," Sherlock said, laying his cards down.
John looked at him with disdain. "Sherlock, there are only four of each in a deck."
"Yes, I know," Sherlock retorted. "Which is why I used the four fives I had in my hand and used a three of spades and a two of hearts combined to make another five."
John and Bobby groaned and the others laughed, though Sherlock frowned, unable to figure out what was so funny.
"Why do we waste our time with these games?" Sherlock complained. "We should be concentrating on the problem at hand."
"The problem at hand is being investigated," Dean said. "And we've all been working on it for three days straight. We need a few hours to, you know, relax our minds."
"My mind is relaxed when I'm working on a case."
"Put a sock in it, Nancy Drew, and have a beer," Bobby said, sliding a beer towards Sherlock, who took it reluctantly.
In the end, it was the best four players facing off: Crowley, who held the reigning championship, because who can beat the king of rotten; Clara, who had been going off luck so far; John, who had a very honest face; and Jo, who claimed she was going to kick them all in the ass.
And she did.
"Alright," Crowley said, leaning back and taking a sip of scotch. "How much?"
"For what?" Jo asked as she counted her cash, which she received when she bet she could beat Crowley.
"You. I want you to work for me when this is all over. I didn't bring you back for nothing."
Clara choked on her drink, and Sam patted her back. Everyone looked confused and shocked.
"You brought us back?" Bobby demanded.
Crowley smirked and spread his hands.
"How?"
"King of Hell, darling. You always forget that little detail."
"Why?"
"Reasons." Clara burned red as his eyes darted to her, but no one caught it. "Boredom. Support. Pick one. But it wasn't easy, mind you. Very expensive, energy and ingredient wise."
"Even me?" Kevin asked quietly from the corner, and Crowley smirked.
"Even you, Kev. You're welcome."
"You got motive," Dean said, narrowing his eyes. "You wouldn't have done this outta the goodness of your heart."
"You're right," Crowley said, and then took a deep breath. "Which is what I've learned in my latest human induced state."
Sam snorted, and smirked. "Couldn't take the guilt when guzzling the human blood, huh, Crowley?"
"Keep your mouth shut, Samantha – as I recall you're still stuck on the demon juice."
"He's getting better!" Clara said defensively.
Before the argument could really get propelled into motion, the door opened, and River and Charlie rushed inside, bundled in coats. They made their way down the stairs, and River looked around sullenly. "The UNIT building was blown up."
"What?" the Doctor exclaimed, jumping from his seat by the telly where he had been messing with his screwdriver. "Martha –"
"She's fine," River said as she and Charlie shed their coats. "Richardson was a demon. They were expecting us. I think they meant to take us by surprise, but hadn't anticipated Hannah being with us. She recognized the demon and saved our lives."
"So where is she?" Sam asked, frowning.
Charlie swallowed, looking sick. "There was a . . . problem," she said softly, lifting her shirt to reveal a bandage wrapped around her middle, a red pattern blooming on it.
Dean was on his feet immediately, making Charlie sit down. "Hey," he said firmly, making her look at him. "You tell me what happened."
"I got impaled by a stab happy demon, and it went all the way through me," Charlie said sheepishly, looking embarrassed. "It was kinda fatal."
"Fatal – Charlie, you're here now, aren't you?"
Charlie teared up a little. "Kinda," she whispered.
"Charlie!"
Charlie blinked, her eyes lighting up bright blue for a moment. When they dimmed she was crying. "She's in me, Dean. She's in my head and I think she's taking all the pain on herself. She won't take control, she just sits there in my pain and tries to heal it slowly." She sobbed, and leaned into Dean. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.
"It's okay," he told her softly. "Shh, look. It's okay, see? She can handle it. She'll make you better, yeah? And then you'll both be fine."
Charlie nodded, her tears staining his shirt as she cried into her brother-figure. Dean could almost hear his heart break in half for her, and he kissed the top of her head, stroking her back and just trying to help.
First Sam, now Charlie. How many more people would get hurt?
He decided that when he saw Abaddon, he'd rip her lungs out.
And the Master's and Moriarty's, too.