Author's note: A big thank you to those who sent me words of encouragement for the previous chapter, I'm so glad that the Dynasty has proven to be popular. I should warn you that the opening scene may be upsetting for some readers, it is based around a nightmare I had a few years ago (correct, I don't like spiders either), I apologise to any arachnophobes out there in advance.

Dynasty 2

Like lightning the spiders were upon her. Broxa quickly snapped out of the daze that the psychic voices had put her under and flailed about trying get them off her. The many spiders that clung onto her were not thrown off so easily, she finally managed to pull one off but it had already attached a web to her shoulder. Upon reaching the ground it pulled on the web with all its might, and it was all Broxa could do to avoid being pulled down by it. As she strained against this one the others had the same idea, they jumped down using the web like a bungee rope and once on the floor aided their brother in trying to haul the girl to the ground.

Broxa struggled and was almost bent double by the effort of the spiders, it seemed as if they had got her. But she wasn't going to allow these little creatures get the better of her, she gave a roar and lashed out at the webs, snapping most of them from the force of her blows. She brought herself upright, many spiders flying forwards due to the sudden loss in tension, and dived for the door. But the Dynasty was better prepared than that, before she could get to the door she tripped and fell.

A couple of spiders had managed to get a length of web around her ankles and now tightly bound them together. She wriggled furiously but was unable to break the web this time. She gritted her teeth and resolved to pull herself to the door. She couldn't though, she quickly felt resistance. Glancing back over her shoulder she spied the creation of several lines of web attached to her back, slowly tightening and leading over to an open wardrobe filled with cobwebs and even more spiders.

"No, you don't," Broxa said through gritted teeth. "I'm the Mayor of the Skullblood tribe! I will not be defeated by a gang of tiny xessers!"

We do not care who you are, the psychic voice echoed through her head once again. You are our enemy, you are alone. You can struggle all you like, you will not escape.

Broxa renewed her efforts, striking forwards and getting a grip on the door frame, but she could go no further. She gripped on for dear life as she felt herself get pulled back millimetre by millimetre. A couple of spiders attached web to her wrists and started to pull her hands away from the doorframe. It dawned on her that there was nothing that she could do to stop them, because if she let go with just one hand they would pull her backwards into the cupboard. Great despair began to fill her as she watched her fingers slowly slip from the tight grip on the door frame.

"Doctor!" she cried in despair, just before she lost her grip and was catapulted into the wardrobe, the door slamming shut in front of her face.

Her wrists had been twisted behind her back and were swiftly bound together by many strands of web, preventing her from quickly pulling herself out again. She wriggled and squirmed about as lines of web pinned her to the walls and wrapped around her body to completely immobilise her. Spiders crawled all over her body, one making the mistake of crawling too near her mouth and having its legs bitten off. She cried out the Doctor's name a couple of times before the spiders webbed her mouth shut. The capture complete, the spiders slowly crawled off her body and back to their homes, either in the webs in the wardrobe or through the small gap in the door to the ones outside.

Broxa tested her constraints once more but could barely move a muscle. She cried out for help but her cry was muffled by the web over her mouth. Trapped in this position all she could think of was that creature caught in the web and sucked dry by the spider that had caught it. She was certain that these spiders meant to eat her too. A sensation passed through her, one that she had never felt before in her life. Fear. Broxa was afraid.

Alone you are weak, together we are strong. The companion is down, the Doctor shall follow. Then the TARDIS will be ours. We speak with one voice but think with a thousand. We are the Dynasty.

The Doctor was very quick to find his access panel, he prised it open and was met with a sight very similar to that which Broxa had described. He swiftly proceeded with the rewiring, marvelling at the fact that the TARDIS had grown clips on the ends of the wires thus allowing the wires to be rearranged without needing any special tools; it was almost as if it knew that this would happen. Unfortunately simply rewiring it was not going to solve their problem, it just meant that the Doctor could manually override the lockdown without the TARDIS throwing a hissy fit.

He unplugged a yellow wire and pulled the clip of to expose the bare wire sticking out of the plastic covering. He then pulled out his knife and carefully split the plastic so that he had more bare wire to work with. He pulled out one of the black ones that was intertwined with the reds and carefully stripped back the plastic. Despite the great care that he took, he still managed to slice through the tips of one of his fingers.

He cursed and held it up to allow the bio-energy to heal it. Once it had healed he returned to the job at hand, he twisted the loose wire from the yellow wire around the exposed wire from the black. Once this was done he cut through one of the red wires and carefully stripped the wire back again. One cut end was attached to the clip that had been attached to the yellow wire and, after unplugging a brown wire plugged it into that spot. He removed the clip from the brown wire and once more stripped the plastic. The bare end was intertwined with the other bare end of the red wire and the clip reattached so that it was connected to both wires. He stowed his knife away and plugged this combination in the yellow's original home.

He gave a yelp as he suddenly felt the pull of gravity tug him upwards. He flew upwards and landed with a crash on the ceiling. He sat up and burst out laughing, he had succeeded. This part of the TARDIS was still upside down but it was now in the same dimension as the corridors that were the right way up. He shifted off the domes light that was starting to get a bit hot and spied something small and black sitting next to him. Before it could run off he had slammed his hat over it.

"A stowaway!" he exclaimed pulling his knife out. He lifted the hat up but there was nothing under it. He gaped at the empty space in misunderstanding, the creature jumped out of its hiding place on the inside of the hat and scuttled off towards a hole in the corner of the ceiling.

The Doctor twisted around and slammed the flat of the knife down on its body, not hard enough to crush it but hard enough to keep it pinned. He took a moment to examine the creature. It looked like a common or garden house spider but seemed to have more of the body of a black widow, in fact it seemed like a subtle hybrid of many different species.

"How long have you been in here?" he wondered. He certainly knew of no species that looked like this, even on any of the alien worlds.

I have only been here for a few weeks, but we have been here for generations.

"Wow!" the Doctor exclaimed. "So this is what prolonged living in the TARDIS does to you. I must have accidently picked up hundreds of different species over the centuries, the constant exposure to the time vortex has caused all your genetic structures to intermingle creating this single form. Also evolution through the generations has aided in mental capacity allowing you to talk to me psychically. Fantastic!"

We speak with one voice but think with a thousand. We are the Dynasty.

"So a hive mind," the Doctor summarised. "You all have contact with one another, does this mean I am talking to everyone as I speak to you."

The range is only limited. My closest brethren can hear my thoughts directly, the furthest have to have the message passed on.

"Well I am chuffed," the Doctor said. "I have bred an extremely intelligent form of life."

We are the perfect race. We are never alone even when we are apart. Decisions are made on mass, and plans followed out efficiently.

"Bit of an ego," the Doctor commented, "but I am sure I can curb that with time. Could you take me to your leader? Ooh, there I go again. Though this time it was a question rather than a statement slash order."

That will not be necessary.

"No, of course not," the Doctor shook his head. "You have no leader. Well take me to where the rest of you are congregated."

We do not need speak to you, you are insignificant, and alone. Alone you are weak, but we are strong because we are together.

The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't like the sound of that, getting too big for your boots if you ask me," he said condescendingly. "And I am not alone, I have Broxa..." he trailed off upon realising that in all the time since he had overridden the lockdown she had not joined him.

The companion has been dealt with.

"What have you done with her?" he demanded, his voice surprisingly level.

She has been dealt with. The Dynasty repeated. The psychic voice had changed, it was as if there were more people suddenly speaking. Next up, the Doctor. Then the TARDIS. We shall not fail, we have it all planned.

"What would you want with the TARDIS?" the Doctor asked in confusion. "And why now? You could have tried something like this years ago."

Our way of life is under threat. You came to throw us out.

"That isn't true," the Doctor protested. "I was merely coming to see what you were so I could decide what to do."

There was a chorus of voices in his head now, speculating this new information. They certainly were very united, deciding amongst everyone their decisions based on every new piece of information. The debate seemed to be swinging in the Doctor's favour when another, more powerful voice swept through them all.

It makes no difference, we have already decided. We immobilise him.

That doesn't sound very united, the Doctor thought. before he could think any more a web shot from the floor, latched onto the wrist that held the knife and pulled it up into the air without much effort. Several spiders appeared out of the hole in the ceiling and joined up with the one that was no longer trapped to circle the Doctor and fire streams of web at him.

The Doctor jumped to the side to avoid the first stream but with one hand being pulled up to the floor he was hit by the next wave. It became a tug of war between the one pulling him up by his hand and those pulling his body down. He was basically helpless as they started to circle about to cocoon him in the web. That is what they thought anyway. The Doctor sneezed into his free hand and hurled the bio-energy he had forced up in an arc that sent several spiders flying and released him from the webs pulling him down.

He pulled with all his might on the one still attached to his wrist making it taught and then jumped, the elasticity pulling him up into the sky. While in the air, he grabbed the halfway point in the length of web so that when he dropped down again he was still halfway up. He looked up to see the spider struggling to hold up his weight.

"Didn't see that one coming did you," the Doctor teased. He looked down to see the spiders congregating under his feet and preparing to fire web at him again. "What a stupid place to stand."

The Doctor swung with his knife and cut cleanly through the line of web. He dropped to the ceiling, bending his knees to cushion the impact and immediately sprinted off down the corridor; miraculously no spiders were crushed by this action. As he sprinted he spotted water leaking out of the top of an upside down door and a plan formed in his mind. The spiders continued to give chase and were surprised when the Doctor started to run up the slightly slanted wall. He slipped and started to slide back down but just managed to just get hold of the door handle. He placed his feet flat on the wall and kicked off whilst twisting the door handle. The door swung open followed by a huge torrent of water that swept over the ceiling, taking the spiders with it.

The Doctor let go and gently slid down. "How many swimming pools do you have old girl?" he asked the TARDIS. "And how come the ceiling is so low in that one?"

There was no response, there never was, so he shrugged and sprinted down the corridor towards where it flipped the right way up again. He had to rescue Broxa from whatever fate the Dynasty had left her to.

The voices of the Dynasty chorused loudly in both the lair of the bulk of the collective and the brethren on mission. Unlike all previous times this was no debate, it was a full blown argument. They struggled to comprehend how one of their brilliant plans had failed. The ones who carried it out blamed those who had come up with it, for it was a rubbish plan, and the ones had planned blamed those that had executed it, for botching their perfectly good plan. Now they debated the change to the situation. It seemed most prudent to skip onto taking the TARDIS without subduing the Doctor.

But there was a problem. The Doctor had done something, changed the configuration of some wires which had overridden the lockdown they had created. Even the most daring wouldn't dare to attempt any more rewiring, they didn't know what it would do. The risk was too great. By complete accident the Doctor had pushed them out of control, into a corner with no control. It seemed that they had been defeated.

It matters not! The powerful, dominant voice cut through them. He is still alone while we are many. We can work out how to fix his alterations and whilst holding him at bay. Distract him with attacks, while the others analyse. Nothing can stop us.

They all joined together for the battle cry.

We shall spread, we shall conquer. We shall befriend, we shall make enemies. None can predict us, we have it all planned. We speak with one voice but think with a thousand. We are the Dynasty.

The Doctor stalked down the corridor listening intently with his mind. He stepped through the archway and into the corridor that was the correct way round and scanned once more. All he could detect was the mad jumble of the many minds of the Dynasty. He couldn't find the extrovert, defiant, fierce, cunning, calculating, curious and marmalade flavoured mind of his companion anywhere. Bloody regeneration must be limiting his psychic capabilities still, he thought, or the sheer weight of the Dynasty was just blocking her mind. There was one other possibility for being unable to find her mind, but he didn't want to consider that; especially so soon after Lisa.

He decided to resort to the age old method of retracing her steps. He quickly found the access panel that she had rewired and, after confirming that she had rewired properly, did a quick scan with his mind. Still nothing. He started to trace the route that she would have taken back to the barrier, scanning with his mind, and came to a stop outside a door. There was definitely the marmalade flavour coming from that room, but the rest wasn't there. In their places were the emotions of fear, panic and desperation. Either there was a frightened little girl in this room, who coincidentally had the same flavoured aura as Broxa, or something incredibly traumatising had happened to Broxa. And it would have to be especially traumatising for it to affect her in this way.

Bracing himself for the worst he pushed the door open. He glanced around at the cobweb covered walls and ceiling, this had obviously been heavily used by the Dynasty in the past, though there didn't seem to be any spiders around at the moment.

"Broxa?" he called cautiously. There was a muffled cry from a wardrobe which he hadn't noticed until now. He rushed over and through the doors open. "Ok, I'm here now!" Upon setting his eyes upon the heavily bound Broxa he brandished his knife and started to hack through the lines of web that were holding her in place.

Her eyes were wide and glistened from tears forming, her face shiny from ones that had already fallen. What had they done to her? As he hacked through the web she thrashed about, in an attempt to aid him; he tried to placate her with soothing words but she was in too much of a panic. Eventually she was able to hop forwards were she fell onto him, he gently carried her to the ground.

"Hold still now," he said, exchanging the golden blade for the golden fork and holding it near the web that covered her mouth. "I don't want to cause an injury."

Using the prongs of the fork he gently picked the edges until he was able to insert it underneath and peel the web away like a plaster. She coughed, spluttered and let out a torrent of Mondasian swear words. The Doctor casually flicked the knife blade back into use and went round her back to release her wrists. Once her arms were free she twisted round and hugged him tightly, bawling into his shoulder.

"They are not making me very sympathetic," he said hugging her back. "What did they do to you?"

"Jumped me," Broxa gasped between sobs. "Bound me in their rope and threw me in the cupboard. They wanted to xessing eat me!"

The Doctor didn't know what to say to this, he was still struggling to understand how the fearsome cannibal leader had been reduced to this whimpering wreck. She had cried on Earth, true, but that was because of pain, this was totally different. He suddenly felt her stiffen in his arms.

"Watch out!" she cried.

He twisted round and instinctively sliced the spider that was flying at him in half. The four others that had emerged from the wardrobe froze in position. The top half of the dying spider wriggled about in pain, a dark liquid seeping onto the floor.

"I should destroy you all, chop you up and hurl you into the time vortex to burn, treating my friend in such a manner," he spat, expression dark, but then he brightened up with a cheerful smile. "But then I wouldn't be the Doctor, I don't just commit genocide for one mistake. Even if it is a rather large mistake. No, I am offering you a chance to redeem yourself. First of all the chief spider must come here, and don't tell me there is no chief spider because I know that there is a chief spider. Then I will discuss the terms of your immediate departure, you will leave the TARDIS and start a new life on some planet; I'll let you know which one later. Failure to do so will leave me no choice but to act ruthlessly."

Foolish Doctor! Do you think we will give in to such demands?

"You have been in the TARDIS for centuries!" the Doctor shouted. "Surely you must know not to underestimate me."

We have not underestimated you, we have it all planned. You think you can simply squash us like inferiors? We have been here for generations, all were conceived and born in the TARDIS. Remember Melody Pond.

The Doctor's head whipped back round to the one he had decapitated. It twitched slightly, its body starting to glow ever so slightly and then brighter and brighter. Its legs stretched to their full extent as bio-energy exploded around it, making it nearly invisible.

"What the xess is that!" Broxa exclaimed.

"Just xessing run!" the Doctor shouted back. He paused mid-step and turned back to her. "Now I'm starting to say it, you're a real bad influence you are. I never swore in Gallifreyan before, and I never even picked up Earth swear words but you have managed to get me to swear in Mondasian without much effort at all."

"Cut my legs loose or carry me!" Broxa shouted, cutting him off in his train of thought. He nodded and dropped down to slice through the web that bound her ankles. Out of the corner of his eye the spider finished regenerating and flipped itself back onto its legs. With his expert eyes he could tell that it had a slightly different shaped body, and a slightly different shade to its body, and slightly thinner hairs than it had before. It almost certainly had a completely different personality to before as well.

The regenerated spider looked up at him and hissed, baring its fangs and making Broxa flinch. The Doctor swiftly booted it across the room, dragged Broxa from the floor by one hand and sprinted out of the room. They slammed the door once they got out and panted heavily.

"Better set everything up for the meeting," the Doctor said cheerfully.

"That's still going to happen?" Broxa replied in confusion.

"Of course," the Doctor smiled mischievously. "The Dynasty thinks that they have us, yet they do not realise that their true enemy lies within. That is the key to their downfall."