Blink
Or: How Time Travel Gave Me One Bad Day…And A Headache
By Sally Sparrow

Introduction

When it comes to telling a story about time travel, it's hard to know where to begin, because it never really "Begins". And no, I will not ruin what's left of your sanity by trying to explain it. Instead, I am going to tell you one thing that is…for a lack of a better term, "Explainable". But first, a little introduction. My name, as you may have already guessed, is Sally Sparrow. I'm rather slim, which I'm proud of, in a weird way, and I have brown eyes and blonde hair with brunette roots. You'd think, "Why the change in hair color?" I just end up shrugging and saying, "Felt like it." And I am a bit tall at 5 foot 7, but I'm not overly tall, so I never got on the receiving end of any tall jokes, praise be. As for my job, I'm sure that you already know that answer, since you are reading a piece of my work. But then there's my hobby, and it's called "Urban Exploration." Or as I like to really call it, "Peeking in on old things because they make me feel sad". And no, not sad in a sad way, more like…sad in a peaceful way. If you still don't get what I mean, you'll just have to try it for yourself. Don't worry, you'll thank me when you do. So, on my off time from work, approaching into the weekend, I found a nice old house that I wanted to visit, with my camera of course. Do a little bit of research, make sure it isn't regularly occupied and, voila! So, on a cold and wet night, I left my own home, clad head to toe in warm clothes, equipped with a camera, and arrived at the old house. Its name: Wester Drumlins. And this is where my story begins.

Chapter 1: The Abandoned House
Or: When A Girl's Curiosity Bears…Weird Rewards

Wester Drumlins, London
12:00am, 9th June 2007

The night was dark and full of rain. If you understand the reference, you are officially a nerd. It was also bitterly cold, even with my brown coat, scarf of red and blue, and dark gloves. Also the fact that the long, front drive was blocked by an iron gate, starting to get drenched in the cold rain, didn't exactly help much. I could definitely no longer feel my hands as I scaled up over the gate and landed on the other side. This house, like a lot of old houses, is not exactly safe for the general public, and the Council closes them off for a time until they decide...something. So yes, I did ignore the "DANGER" sign attached to the front of the gate, and I walked up the gravel driveway towards the house. The front door was closed and locked, so instead I chose to enter through the unlocked back door. Once inside, I took out a torch that I had brought with me, and flicked it on. The moon may have been rather bright, but all extra light was welcomed gratefully into my…use. So, moving slowly as to avoid any hazards in the house, including the odd loose or empty floor boards that would let me plunge into the dark basement right beneath, I made my way around the house, using my camera to create pictures of all the old, intriguing things that lay within Wester Drumlins. Anything from the loose furniture that would either stand up right or be turned over, odd silver decorations from candelabras to chandeliers to even an unused and long dead grandfather clock that stood within what would have been a bedroom, if the large empty wooden bedframe meant anything. Then I moved into the drawing room. The wallpaper in the room, which looked like light bulbs in glass lanterns, was scratched and dusty until a particular part on a wall where there was a large hole of missing wallpaper and the letter "B" was printed beneath. Reaching up, I tore away the ripped wallpaper to see the rest of the passage.

Beware the Weeping Angels.

The…what? Was my instant thought, feeling myself frown even as my eyes laid on another partially revealed letter beneath the message and, despite my cautious hand, I reached up to rip away the wallpaper.

We are trapped.

"Trapped"? Who is this "We"? Was my next thought as I continued to rip at the wallpaper. It was about at this time, should I add, that I had this uneasy feeling like…I was being watched. As I reached up, I glanced behind me, but there was no one there. Just a statue planted out in the conservatory.

The Weeping Angels have trapped us, and we need your help. Oh, and duck.

Seriously, Sally Sparrow, duck now!

"Duck"? What… Just for a second, I heard a small rush of wind from the conservatory, and with a gasp, my eyes widening in terror, I ducked just as the conservatory window shattered and something flew over my head, smashing against the wall and cluttering down onto the floor. I looked over, and the thrown object was an empty garden pot. Standing back up from my squat, I turned to the window to see the statue still there. The statue had large feather wings and it's two hands were cupped over its eyes. But what made it worse was not the sudden uneasy feeling the statue gave me, it was that the statue seemed like it had moved two feet to the right, but I was alone. Moving a statue, of course, is much easier said than done, and for a few seconds, I found myself unable to take my fearful eyes off the statue. Why did it feel so…wrong? It made me feel like I…was being toyed with, but I couldn't figure out how or why. Turning back to look at the wall, I saw a partially obscured "L", and once again, I pulled at the wallpaper. In all honesty, and without a word, I had immediately left the house, only glancing back to look at the statue, yet it had moved. I didn't know how much until the next day, but it had moved, and admittedly, I was very terrified, and yet what was stuck in my mind, well after I scaled back over the gate, was the final part of the message.

Love from the Doctor and Clara (1969)

Chapter 2: The Nightingales
Or: A Lying Cow and Her Cluster Brother

Ah yes, THEM. Okay, I don't mean it like I'm a cynic, but let's just say…well, anyone with a bickering relationship with their siblings would understand them. Before this event, I only knew the sister, Kathy, otherwise known as the "Younger One" but you'd never guess it from all the bossing. If you asked me about their looks, I'd say bluntly that they were…good looking, until you woke them up at one in the morning just like I did. Kathy was a brunette, her hair always scruffy if untended to. She did have the habit of tying her hair up behind her head, otherwise I would joke that she looked like a poor man's Ripley. Bit curvier than me…ish, but she was my equal in height. Lawrence, nicknamed "Larry", her "Older Brother" was taller than the both of us, but not by much. He had the same hair color as his sister, although sometimes I thought his hair was a shade darker, and then other days it would seem lighter. He's one of those people, not to seem entirely rude, that would look a lot better if he changed his hairstyle. He always just let it hang down from his head, and sometimes I thought that he didn't even clean it, but you'd have to ask him yourself on that one. It didn't exactly help that he had a light scruff of hair on his chin, never sure on how much it should grow out before it would be shaved. Anyway, getting off track. It's one in the morning on the 10th of June, still cold and damp, and with a key that Kathy lent me a few years back, I slinked into the house. The first thing to greet my sight was a group of TV's piled into the living room, most of them freeze framed on…some random guy. He was a bit handsome, even if the black rimmed reading glasses were a bit too much, and he was wearing one of those pinstripe suits, but brown. There was another freeze frame were there was a woman sitting next to him. She was brunette and absolutely gorgeous…until you got to the eyes. That freaked me out a little bit more. If you did see her eyes, you would swear she came out of a cartoon or that might just be me being a little bit mean. I can say, as of the time of this writing, and take a shot every time you read those seven words, Clara's eyes actually add to her gorgeousness…I think. Anyway, the final TV that I saw seemed to be playing a DVD, and once again it was the suit man, yet he was on his own and he almost seemed to be pointing straight at me.

"Listen, your life could depend on this. Don't blink. Don't even blink." He ordered, and his voice was stern with command. "Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink." There was a moment where he stopped and took a small breath as his eyes glared a warning fire mixed with apology before he added with finality, "Good luck."

The DVD stopped playing at that, and I automatically just shrugged it off, as I…well…shrugged off my wet coat, placed it on the coat hanger by the Nightingale's front door, and turned into the kitchen. The kitchen looked like the aftermath of a lazy takeaway night, but not as messy as you would expect, but only to a point. There were still plates and glasses piled in the little sink and the benchtops looked like they bore a little grease mess on them. It could have been pizza grease for all I cared at the moment, but I didn't. I just really needed a cup of coffee and a talk with Kathy. To improve my mood, I decided to awaken her in the…mischievous manner. As I worked on two cups, one with some milk and sugar for Kathy and the other with a lot of sugar for me, (Don't ask why), I pulled out my phone and dialed Kathy's number. I could faintly hear both the phone buzzing and Kathy rolling and groaning for a few moments before she answered.

"Hello?" She grumbled, and I could picture her either blinking or wiping at her tired eyes.

"Bit freaked. Need to talk. Making you a coffee." I responded quickly and simply, and I just got another groan. I'm sure you don't need to picture the roll of the eyes that Kathy obviously made.

"Sally Sparrow, it's one in the morning. Do you think I'm coming around at one in the morning?"

"No." I answered, resisting the urge to extend it into a "Nope". "I'm in your kitchen." I added as I tucked the phone into my neck and took hold of the finished and steaming hot cups of coffee. "What's with all the TV's in your living room?"

"Oh god." Kathy groaned, yet immediately I heard her gasp and she sat up in her bed, if the ruffle of blankets and sheets proved anything. "Oh god, Sally, you've met my brother, Larry, haven't you?"

I'll quickly add that after the time of writing this, I do happen to know Larry, but in this, I just knew him by mention from his sister, or from family photos that laid in the house. "No."

"You're about to."

Right next to the kitchen entrance is the bathroom. The toilet flushed, as it would, and the door opened, said brother stepping out of the bathroom, completely naked. Don't worry, I won't give you any explicit details, despite my eyes glancing down for just a moment and I found it hard not to grin as Larry seemed to blink in confusion as he looked at me. "Oookaay." He drawled out in a mutter before he seemed to realize his own…situation, and his eyes widened a little, even as he still had that grumpy look. You all know, that look you give when you wake up in the middle of the night needing an emergency bathroom visit, even if you just want to sleep. Like I said, he bore it, but his confusion and tiny hint of a newfound sense of…self-humiliation shined through. "I'm not sure…really hoping…" His sentences were a bit broken from his tired grumbling, but as he pointed down at his naked legs, I could tell exactly what he was trying to convey. "Pants?" He asked, and I knew what the full question was, and the answer.

"No." I shook my head, still withholding my grin as he audibly gulped. If you're wondering what his sister's reaction to this was, since she was still on the phone with me and heard every word, well here you go. She hung up the phone and I heard an agonized scream of fury, muffled just a bit by the fact that her bedroom was upstairs.

"Put them on!" She spat as her feet stomped about for a moment before they resumed again, this time on the stairs, descending down. Larry, on the other hand, as quickly as he could in regard to his…circumstance, fled from the room. "Put them on! I hate you!" I let myself snigger for a moment, which did calm the dreadful fear I still had, and I sat down at the little table in the kitchen, finally removing the phone from my neck as I heard Kathy bicker at Larry for a moment before there was some silence. It wasn't exactly silent, considering the patter of rain against the house but in that moment, my brain instantly went back to the house, to the…message. It made me both confused, and afraid, and I couldn't drink no more than a sip from my coffee, even as I kept it in my grasp, not bothering to put it back onto the table. My attention was thankfully distracted however as Kathy arrived into view, dressed in one of her nightgowns, orange if you were wondering, and she leaned against the kitchen entrance with her arms crossed and gave a very audible sigh of annoyance. "Sorry. My cluster of a brother." Then, she opened her eyes and looked over with a blink, her gaze darting between me and the coffee cups. "What's going on?" She asked as she moved over to sit in the empty chair beside me. "Did you find something horrific in your…hobby?"

I took a sip from my coffee before I answered. "More freaky than horrific." Kathy blinked, and I reiterated. "I found another house, called "Wester Drumlins", and…somebody wrote a message beneath the wallpaper. It said, "Beware the Weeping Angels. We are trapped. The Weeping Angels have trapped us, and we need your help. Oh, and duck. Seriously, Sally Sparrow, duck now! Love from the Doctor and Clara (1969)""

Chapter 3: Vanishing into Thin Air
Or: How to Make Your Friend Worried Beyond Belief in Three Easy Steps

9:00am

Much later on in the morning, once Kathy had fully woken up and readied herself for the day, we arrived at the iron gate entrance of Wester Drumlins. To say that Kathy was excited was an understatement. She kept on slipping her feet as she tried to scale over the gate, and I told her to calm down. Twice, actually. Once she landed, after I had been waiting for almost a full minute, my arms crossed and my foot stereotypically tapping impatiently on the gravel drive, she straightened out her orange jacket and her blue leather pants before she linked her arm with mine, her face bearing a childishly gleeful grin.

"Strange feeling, eh?!" She beamed as we trotted up to the house. "You and me, breaking the rules, investigating a ruin."

"Kathy, the house is not THAT bad." I retorted, but she just carried on.

"I've got it. "Sparrow and Nightingale."" Kathy quoted.

"That's too ITV." I complained, and she gave a mocking gasp of shock in response.

"What's wrong with ITV?!" She retorted, but I didn't answer. Let's just say that we had been on this argument for a while now and…well, she thinks ITV is like the second coming. I think it's a bit on the short side of quality, but it doesn't matter. Driving me off topic. We unlinked our arms only when we had crossed the threshold of the entrance, Kathy hooking her hands into her back trouser pockets as she glanced around with a puzzled frown. "Okay, it's not THAT bad, but…why did you come here again? I mean…aside from just taking pictures?"

"I love old things." I answered as she opened a double white doored cupboard, peering inside for a moment before she closed the creaking doors. "They make me feel sad."

"You mean that since you're so…deep," She started with a little convenient cough, "it makes you feel happy?"

"I'm not going to answer that." Was my answer, and she chuckled as we moved into the drawing room, her eyes first landing on a chandelier that lay on the floor, and she, like a curious little kid, gazed closer at it and poked here and there before standing up and moving away to my side, joining me in observing the message on the wall.

"Strange." Kathy muttered, her smile fading a bit from her face as she peered over the words, but when I moved away from the message and out into the conservatory to look upon the statue, she stopped reading and rejoined me.

"The Weeping Angel." I introduced, and Kathy's eyebrows lifted for a moment.

"That would not look bad in my garden." Kathy remarked, but I found myself suddenly feeling confused…and afraid.

"It's moved." I muttered aloud, but I didn't know it until Kathy spoke.

"It's what?"

"Since last night. I'm sure of it. It's closer to the house." I reiterated, and I was sure of it, but Kathy just looked like she wanted to laugh at me. Or did she want to run away? Either way, she did not say anything in response as I moved back into the house to look back upon the message. "How can my name be written here?" I muttered aloud as Kathy moved back into the house after staring at the Weeping Angel for a short moment. "How is that possible?"

Neither of us were able to provide an answer, for the doorbell rang. Yes, the very old, very outdated ringing of the Wester Drumlins doorbell, and the sound made me exchange a nervous yet puzzled glance with Kathy. "Who'd come here?" Kathy asked as I cautiously moved around the corner to look back at the front door, where a tall side facing silhouette was waiting patiently outside. I was about to move closer when Kathy sprang to my side and thrust an arm out in front of me, barring my pace forward. "What are you doing?" She hissed in a low whisper. "It could be a burglar."

Yes, I know what you're thinking, because that is exactly what I said at that moment in a very dull voice. "A burglar?"

Kathy didn't look fazed at that. "Yes."

"A burglar who rings the doorbell-"

Kathy interrupted me with a small yet fervent shake of the head. "A deception, a trick, it has to be."

"-of an old, unsafe house that has not been owned for at least a few decades?" I finished.

The rest of my refuting question finally made Kathy look a bit fazed, but she still tried to carry on with a little shrug. "Local school kids wanting to pull a prank?" She tried, and I rolled my eyes, for sure earning a, "Did I say something stupid?" look from Kathy, but it could've just been my imagination. "Okay, I'll stay here in case of…"

"Of what?" I asked, admittedly quite puzzled why she would leave that sentence hanging, but I regretted it when she answered.

"Incidents?" She tried, and I immediately rolled my eyes as I moved to the door. "It was the best I could I think of." Kathy hissed behind my back, to which I gave her a little bemused glare over my shoulder as I stood behind the front door. It was a double door, as I should have added earlier, with a traditional lock at the handle, a horizontal bar at the top, and a smaller deadbolt lock at the bottom, keeping the right-hand door fixed into the floor. The traditional and the bottom locks meant nothing, it was only the top one that was a small worry, as I had to stretch up to unlock it. My right arm and shoulder both filed a complaint against that, but I had to ignore it for now as I opened the doors wide. The man outside was at least a foot taller than me, with wide blue eyes, and he wore a traditional black suit with a tie, almost looking like he was waiting for a business deal. Even his brown hair had been brushed to the right side, and his face was clean shaven. The man looked as if he was waiting for something, but seemed completely confused on whatever it was.

"Hello." He greeted just a little bit meekly.

"Hello." I greeted back with a furrow of my eyebrows. "Who are you?"

"I'm…" He paused for a moment to clear his throat, probably trying to get rid of at least some of the awkwardness in his voice. "My name is Malcolm Wainright." He introduced before he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an old envelope. "I'm looking for Sally Sparrow."

When he said that, I still distinctly remember feeling both…confused, a little angry at the potential of a stalker, and…feeling like I was being accused, but what came out was just one question. In the long run, I'm still not sure whether it was the right question to ask, but it is what came out of my mouth. "How did you know I'd be here?"

The man, Malcolm, looked a little bit relieved at that, yet uncertain confusion still lay in his awkward eyes. "I was told to bring this letter on this date at this exact time to "Sally Sparrow"." He said, and it was only then that I looked at the envelope in his right hand, which was outstretched towards me. It only bore two words on the front, and they were my own name. "Sally Sparrow."

"It looks…old." I pointed out, but the effect that it got was not what I was expecting. Malcolm's gaze just darted to the side in a typical look of confused agreement.

"It IS old." He said as he blinked. "I'm sorry, but…do you have an I.D? A driving license, maybe? I was told to be absolutely sure."

Well, fair enough. You'd be surprised that someone out there might share your own name. I haven't found mine yet, but maybe there is one. So, I reached into my coat to pull out my driver's license, and as I did, I took the moment to turn my head to see Kathy in the corner of my eye. She looked like our little exchange, strange as it was, had been enrapturing her, but then she darted her head to look behind her and promptly disappeared from sight. You ARE checking for incidents, eh, Runaround Sue? I'll explain why I called her that in a little bit. For now, back on to the topic. I handed the driver's license over and Malcolm looked at it for a moment before nodding and handing it back. "How did you know I was coming here?" I asked as I pocketed my license. "I didn't tell anyone. How could anyone have known?"

Malcolm looked as if he did not even know the answer, and his words…somewhat proved it. "It's all a bit complicated. I'm not sure I understand it myself." He added, before he looked down at the envelope with a relieved sigh. "Well, here goes, I suppose." He muttered as he stretched his arm out and waited, but I did not take the envelope. Not yet. "Funny feeling, after all these years." He muttered again with a small squint of his eyes to the floor, but I ignored it at the moment, focusing instead on the envelope in his hand.

"Who's it from?" I asked, and yet again, he blinked with an open mouth.

"Um…that's a…complicated story."

Admittedly, I rolled my eyes at the side-stepping answer and flopped my arms down to my sides for effect. It was only after I took a small breath to hold back a little glare that I said, "Give me a name, then."

Malcolm nodded with an unblinking stare. ""Katherine Wainright"." And yet, before I could say something, he held up a hand to stop me. "But she specified I should tell you that prior to marriage, she was called, "Kathy Nightingale"."

If you think that was a mere coincidence, my dear reader, we are far from the best bits yet. So, in that moment, I had that accusing glare of wide yet squinting eyes and furrowed eyebrows as I repeated, ""Kath-"", yet before I could finish, I heard a door slam and…what sounded like someone snapping their fingers, but with a more…modulated and ethereal quality. "Kathy?" I immediately called, but I received no answer from my friend. Instead, it was from a puzzled Malcolm.

"Kathy, yes. "Katherine Costello Nightingale"."

I quickly remembered how Kathy mentioned the possibility that it could be a prankster, and to make sure, I quickly asked, "Is this a joke?" Admittedly, it had a lot more bite to it, but the sudden heavy feeling of the situation, coupled with that strange snap noise made me feel uneasy. Very uneasy.

Malcolm did not look hurt or offended by the remarking question. Instead, once again, he looked confused. "A joke?" He repeated, but I chose not to answer it.

"Kathy, is this you?" I called, moving away from the front door and through the next door into the drawing room with the message. "Very funny." I remarked, and I was going to continue when…well, to put it bluntly, she wasn't there. Kathy had just vanished. Even the statue, the Weeping Angel, looked as if it had moved just a bit further away from the house than when we first got here mere minutes ago. I looked around, still no sign of her. "Kathy?" I called, and I suddenly felt much more agitated and uneasy, even as I left the drawing room and started up the flight of stairs. "Kathy?" I called, and I finally got an answer, but not from Kathy.

"Please, you need to take this!" Malcolm called from the bottom of the stairs.

In that moment, I just remembered his presence in the house, and I turned around to look at him, not in an accusing glare, but more in fear. "Who are you?" I asked, but he did not move or flinch. "Why are you here?"

That question made him flinch, but it seemed from something more like a sad memory. "I made a promise." Was his answer, and I suddenly felt something like dread. Maybe, even in that moment, I already knew the answer. But I still had to ask.

"To who?"

"My grandmother. "Katherine Costello Nightingale"."

"Your…your grandmother?" I reiterated, and you can be sure that, due to the moment, my voice was little more than a whimper.

Mercifully, Malcolm nodded. "Yes. She died twenty years ago."

There was a small moment of silence as he held the envelope out again, and I, with a trembling hand, took it and carefully ripped it open. There were eight old, black and white photographs, along with a piece of folded paper, most likely a letter. I looked at the first photo and it looked exactly like Kathy, but instead of her normal present outfit of jackets, shirts and jeans, it was a grey dress with a matching coat and white shirt. Even her hair was different, more befitting of the brand-new times she lived in, even if it wasn't "New", strictly speaking. "So, they're related?" I asked aloud, and I got a very simple answer.

"Sorry?" Malcolm muttered, and I tore my gaze away from the photo and back up to him, not exactly surprised to see his face furrowed in puzzlement.

"My Kathy and your grandmother, they're…they're practically identical." I reiterated as I took out the folded paper. It was rather thick, and a little bit fancy, which was accompanied by the incredible handwriting, which I never knew Kathy had in her. I won't give you the full contents of the letter just yet, but I will give you the first snippet.

"My dearest Sally Sparrow. If my grandson has done as he promises he will, then as you read these words, it has been mere minutes since we last spoke. For you, at least. For me, it has been over sixty years. The third of the photographs is of my children. The youngest is Sally. Yes, I named her after you, of course."

That was the moment that I stopped reading, and to say that my reaction was unkindly is an understatement. Quick side note: I met Malcolm just before the time of this writing and I did apologize. It led to a very relaxing hour after that, going to a café for a coffee and a proper meeting, but that is something I won't be disclosing in this story. As for returning to Malcolm in the moment, let's just say, I gave him a disgusted glare as I tossed the letter, envelope and photos down onto the stairwell, my trembling hands growing worse by the second in conjunction with my heart, which was beating harder than a crack addict on a Cherokee drum. So, not only did I glare at Malcolm, I spat out, "This is sick! This is utterly sick!" Upon those words, I sprinted straight up the stairs, calling, "Kathy! Kathy!", my hand grasping at the railing handle as I climbed up and up and then…I stopped, right at the top of the stairs. "Why did you stop?" You may ask. Well, you remember the strange statue in the observatory, the Weeping Angel, right? Well, there was three more, all standing there, their eyes covered. Now, I should add that in that moment I only saw two of them. The first was closest to the stairs, standing right by a doorway, and it's head, oddly enough, was tilted to the side a bit, as if it was listening in like Peeping Tom. The second one was on its own, with its eyes covered by its right forearm and elbow, whilst its left hand seemed to be clutching something, as if it was a sacred family heirloom. The third and final Weeping Angel stood by the window, to the far left of the landing and just like the first, it had its hands covering its eyes. When I looked from the third Angel to the second, I frowned. Suddenly, in its left hand, there was a key, dangling out on a little rope. Was it deliberate or an accident? I didn't know in that moment because there seemed like there was something…odd about that key. It looked like an ordinary Yale key, so why did it feel strange to look at it? Focusing my gaze on the key, I reached out, placed my hand around it and tugged, the rope pulling flush from the Angel's grasp and into my own. Standing up, I took a closer look at it, but my mind felt a little…unfocused. Why did it suddenly feel like there was someone watching me? The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up, either from someone's breath or just the situation starting to feel really uncomfortable. I turned around, but there was no one there. So, why did my eyes go straight to staring at the statues, as if they were the culprit? The answer never came in that moment. Instead, I heard the front doors of the house slam shut and once again, I remembered that Malcolm was there. With a sharp intake of breath, I darted back down the stairs calling, "No, wait! Hang on!" But I never saw Malcolm again that day, and as I said before, not for many days after that. When I got to the bottom of the stairs however, I found the photos, the envelope and the letter all stacked neatly atop the hand railing. So, I shoved the key into my pocket and took the envelope with its contents, thrust them into another pocket and left the house, still feeling like someone was watching me.

10:30am

Let's pose a very important question. What would you do when you may have just lost your friend to the tangled webs of time, just as said friend sent a message through their grandchild to you right before they were taken, all before you may or may not have realized that you were being stalked by stone statues? The answer is very simple. Have a nice sit down and a cup of coffee. And that is exactly what I did. As I left Wester Drumlins, I got into my car and went straight for a local café, ordering a cup of coffee and no food. Yes, if you're wondering, I asked for a lot of sugar in it. (Again, don't ask.) After I drank the tasty coffee, I set the cup aside and pulled out the letter.

"My dearest Sally Sparrow. If my grandson has done as he promises he will, then as you read these words, it has been mere minutes since we last spoke. For you, at least. For me, it has been over sixty years. The third of the photographs is of my children. The youngest is Sally. Yes, I named her after you, of course."

I stopped reading for a moment at this, for I had just realized that I will never see my friend ever again. It's strange, when you grieve and yet you don't cry. I'm not sure why it was like that. Maybe the sudden nature of her disappearance helped with the grief, but no matter how much catharsis I could have gotten, there was and still is a part of me that really misses her. Just before I could carry on with the letter, I had to rub at my eyes a little. Like I said, I wasn't crying, but my eyes were trying to betray that feeling. They didn't succeed, thank god, that would have caused a scene, which I did not need. What I did instead was shift through the photo's until I found one that had Kathy sitting on a chair, with three children in front of her. The youngest, a girl, was sitting on her knee, all four of them smiling at the camera, and I found myself giving off a little smile. Kathy Nightingale. Even in a completely different time, you still had to be weird.

"I suppose, unless I live to a really exceptional old age, I will be long gone as you read this. But don't feel sorry for me. I have lived a good and full life. I've loved a good man and been well loved in return. And you would have liked Ben. He was the very first person I met in 1920. And he never had to worry about Runaround Sue getting out of hand."

I found it rather difficult not to laugh out loud at those last few words. You see, one of the things that Kathy loved was one-night stands. They always played out the same. Go out to a bar or a local event or anything, pick up a good-looking guy and take him home for the ride of his life. And no, these are Kathy's words the following mornings, not mine. These earned her the nickname "Runaround Sue", a name that, to my astonishment, she grew to love. I intended for it to have the opposite effect, but never mind. On that, I returned to reading the rest of the letter.

"To take one breath in 2007 and the next in 1920 is a strange way to start a new life, but a new life is what I've always wanted. My mum and dad are gone by your time, so really there's only Lawrence to tell. He works at the DVD store on Queen Street. I don't know what you're going to say to him, but I know you'll think of something. Just tell him I love him. Thanks so much for everything, Sally.

Love, Katherine Costello Nightingale.

PS: Please try to drill into Lawrence that he needs to learn how to rinse the dishes before jamming them into the dishwasher. After all, it is a "Dishwasher", NOT a grime and grease remover."

Even as I put the letter and photo's back into the envelope, stuffed it into my pocket, paid for my coffee and left the café, I was still giggling at that last remark. But I had to contain it, otherwise I would have earned a few odd stares. So, I went to the nearby supermarket, bought a bundle of flowers and went straight to the local cemetery. It took me a little bit, moving about and looking for a tombstone with her name on it, all the while the cold breeze kept on biting at me and making me shiver, but eventually I found it. A single tombstone standing over two graves.

In Loving Memory

Benjamin Wainright

(1897-1962)

And His Loving Wife

Katherine Costello Wainright

(1902-1987)

Excuse me? Was my first thought, and I rechecked the birth date under Kathy over and over again with quick glances, but my eyes were definitely not playing tricks on me. Under that realization, it made me laugh out loud. "You told him you were 18, you lying cow." I remarked under my breath, even if I wasn't that surprised. Regardless, after I took a breath and cleared my throat, I stood up and left the cemetery, feeling both relieved, sad, amused, and very concerned. And just a little bit afraid. Would someone please explain to me why I feel like I'm being followed?!

Chapter 4: The DVDs
Or: Why You Should Never Apply Logic to Time Travel

After I left the cemetery, I got back into my car and headed straight for the DVD store that I knew of, and that Kathy had mentioned in her farewell letter. "Banto's DVD Store" and it bore the tagline, "New? Second Hand? Rare? We Have Them All!" You ask me, they have a horrific marketing tactic, but we'll let it slide just this once, as I was only there for one employee. There was a brief moment right before I walked inside where my amused eye caught the many film posters on the windows, most of which I didn't recognize, except for one. It was a bald and very pale man with needles sticking out of his head. Wasn't that bad of a horror franchise, admittedly, but I did have a couple of "Vietnam" flashbacks, considering how many times a very obsessed Kathy wanted to watch them. You ask me, I think she had a bit of a fetish for Pinhead. Anyway, I walked into the store and up to the counter where Banto, the then owner of the shop with a black beard and color matching thick hair, was sitting on his chair and looking completely transfixed by a movie he was watching. I took a peek to the TV that was fastened to the wall, and it just showed two people having a shootout in the open, but after only two seconds had passed, the man chuckled at something that I didn't get and asked, "Can I help you, miss?"

I looked back to return his small, kind smile. "Sorry, I'm just looking for Lawrence Nightingale."

Banto cocked one of his eyebrows at that. "His sister mad at him again?" I couldn't help but let out an involuntary snigger at the thought, but he just shrugged and pointed into the back room behind him. "He's through the back."

I nodded in thanks before moving around the counter and through into the back room. It looked like a stereotypical college boy bedroom. Posters pinned to the walls at crooked angles, strange memorabilia and objects lying on the desk, things either put in the right place but not very tidy or vice versa. I could almost picture Kathy standing beside me with a scowl on her face as she yelled at her "Cluster Brother", but that wasn't what I was here to do. Instead, I called, "Hello?", but the only answer I got was from a man on a TV screen.

"Clara, I think it's my turn." I heard him admonish lightly, and I moved around to look. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was, for it was the same couple that I saw on all the TV's back in the Nightingale house hours ago. The woman, whose wide brown eyes I'll admit had grown on me a little, let out a squeak as she was gently pushed out of the frame, and the man seemed to be restraining the urge to grin as he turned back.

"Oh, hello." I heard Larry greet behind me, turning around to see him holding a little black bowl filled with nuts.

"38." The man on the TV interjected, and Larry gave out a little sigh as he moved respectfully past me.

"Sorry, just a mo." He muttered as he picked up the TV remote, paused the playback, put the remote back down and popped a peanut into his mouth. "Can I help you…" He started to ask through the crunching, but then he stopped and really looked at me. "Hang on. We've met, haven't we?" He asked.

I had to resist the urge to grin, or snigger, or both. "It'll come to you." I said cryptically, waiting and watching as I could figuratively hear the gears in his brain clacking and ticking away. 3…2…1.

Larry suddenly placed his hands over his groin with wide eyes of horror. "Oh my god."

I grinned. "There it is."

"Sorry." He blurted out, almost choking on the remnants of the peanut as he did, having to place the bowl down before he would drop it on his feet. "Sorry about the whole-"

To be merciful, I decided to interrupt and change the topic. "Message from your sister."

That created the intended effect and he stopped rambling with a blink of his eyes. "Oh, okay. Um…what is it, then? What's the message?"

I did tell him the truth much later, I will confess, but at that moment I knew it was a bad idea to tell him the whole truth, if only for the simple fact that he would think it bonkers. "She's had to go away for a bit."

Larry blinked again. "Where?"

"Just a work thing. Nothing to worry about."

Larry bought it, at least at the time he did. "Okay."

"And…" I trailed off at that to make sure that he was listening.

"And what?" He asked.

"She loves you."

Larry sniggered out loud at that. "She what?"

I shrugged in agreement. "She said to say that. She loves you." After a moment, I grinned. "There, that's nice, isn't it?"

Larry blinked again, this time with his eyebrows furrowed. "Is she ill?"

That made me blink. "No! No!"

"Am I ill?" He tried again, pointing to himself, but I shook my head.

"No!"

"Is this a trick?" He tried once more, but again, with finality I might add, I shook my head.

"No. She loves you." I said, then smiled, even if he didn't seem to buy it. But the moment was interrupted by the man on the TV again.

"People don't understand time. It's…not what you think it is."

Larry rolled his eyes again as he grabbed for the remote and pressed pause. Yet, for some reason, I found him to be rather…intriguing. "Who is this guy?"

"Sorry, the pause thing keeps slipping, Stupid thing." He muttered as he put the remote down again.

"Last night, you had him on all those screens in your flat. That same guy, and that one girl with the big eyes. Talking about…I don't know…blinking or something."

"Yeah, the bit about the blinking's great." Larry said with a little smile before he sniffed as he sat down in a nearby leather office chair. "And that one girl, she's his girlfriend, if their close quarters flirting means anything. Anyway, I was just checking to see if they were all the same."

"What were the same?" I asked, getting more intrigued than I wanted to admit. "What is this? Who is he?"

"An Easter egg." Larry said dramatically, but my confused expression did not give him the intended effect, and my next two words backed that up.

"Excuse me?" I asked, and he seemed genuinely confused by that.

"It's like a DVD extra." He said before he started to elaborate. "You know how on DVDs they put extras on, documentaries and stuff? Well, sometimes they put on hidden ones, and they call them "Easter Eggs". You have to go looking for them. Follow a bunch of clues on the menu screen." He finished with a grin.

"Complicated." The man on the TV interrupted, and Larry once again pressed pause on the remote.

"Sorry." He muttered before he sniffed at the point of continuation. "It's interesting, actually. He is on 17 different DVDs." Finally, my intrigue won over from my puzzlement, and Larry understood it perfectly. "Yeah, there are 17 totally unrelated DVDs, all with him and that girl on it. Always hidden away, always a secret. In fact, there's a third person in there as well. Although, she's not on it for very long." He added in a little mutter before he continued. "Anyway, not even the publishers know how they got there. I've talked to the manufactures, right? They don't even know. It's like they're ghost DVD extras, showing up where they're not supposed to be. But only on those 17, no more."

"Oookaay." I drawled out with a blink, flickering my gaze between Larry and the TV screen. "Well…what do they do?"

Larry blinked at that and just gave a little shrug. "Just sit there, making random remarks. That man and the girl with the big eyes will bicker and flirt, as I said, obviously a couple, but the rest of it is just him rambling on before he pauses. It's like we're hearing half a conversation. Me and the guys are always trying to work out the other half."

I was quite grateful for that last sentence, because it made me very amused. "When you say "You and the guys", you mean the internet, don't you?"

Larry's eyes widened in pure horror at my question. "How'd you know?"

"Spooky, isn't it?" I remarked, and the TV, to my own surprise, flicked from pause to play and the man spoke again.

"Very complicated." The man said before the big-eyed woman re-entered the screen and flicked his nose. "Ow!"

"No patronizing!" She reprimanded before she left the screen again.

Before Larry could pause it, Banto called out, "Lawrence? Need you."

Larry quickly got up from his chair, muttering under his breath. "Excuse me a sec." Then, he left me alone with the TV and my attention immediately went to the screen.

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly…timey-wimey…stuff."

I'm not sure whether it was his suddenly horrific use of words, or the sound of a girl giggling in his background, but it made me snigger with a smirk. "Started well, that sentence." I remarked aloud, and the man nodded dejectedly.

"It…got away from me, yeah."

At once, I found myself realizing what I just did. I just made a conversation with a TV screen. And after the day that I had just had, which still had not even reached noon, all I could hope for was that this one, unlike the others, was just a trick. "Okay, that was weird. Like you can hear me." I muttered and, to disappoint my hope, the man blinked with a frown.

"Well, I CAN hear you."

That was too much for my already stressed mind to take at that moment, so I picked up the remote, harshly pressed the pause button and started to hiss out a ramble. "Okay, that is enough! I've had enough now! I've had a long day and I've had bloody enough!" There was this dreadful moment of silence in the room, the kind where you know that you're not alone, and I glanced up to the open doorway. Larry was standing there, holding a green file folder and a look of utter fear on his face. I would've found it humorous in any other circumstance, but for the moment, I pressed the tip of the remote against my forehead and took a deep breath to calm myself. "Sorry. Bad day." I excused simply. It also didn't help that I could hear the rain coming in quick outside and, of course, I forgot my goddamn raincoat.

"Got you the list." Larry muttered, pulling out a single sheet of paper from the folder.

"What?" I asked with a blink.

"The 17 DVDs. I thought you might be interested."

In a strange way, I was interested, but in the moment, I only gave a shrug as I put down the remote and took the sheet of paper from him. "Yeah, great, thanks." I said but my words bore a little too much of a sarcastic bite, (Sorry, Larry), and without another glance I moved out of the backroom and straight to the shop exit.

"Go to the police, you stupid woman!" Banto called from the counter. "Seriously, why does nobody ever just go to the police?!"

In all honesty, I would've smacked Banto for that comment, (Or worse), but…he did have a point. So, as I exited the store without a word, I ran through the rain towards my car, started it up and headed straight to the nearby police station. It sounded like a good idea. Right?

Chapter 5: The Police and The Box
Or: A Weeping Angel A Day Keeps the Police Away

Police Station
12:00pm

"Shall we try it from the beginning this time?" Terry Greer, the desk sergeant asked through a tired yet somehow patient sigh, his hands linked together in front of him as I had to brush the wet hair from my eyes.

"Okay." I muttered with a small breath. "There's this house. A big old house, falling apart and been empty for years. Wester Drumlins, out by the estate. You've probably seen it."

Terry took a pen to write down on a spare sheet of paper. ""Wester Drumlins"?" He asked in case of a mistake, and I nodded. "Could you please just wait here for a moment?" He asked rhetorically as he put down the pen, stood up and walked away from the desk.

I had to restrain the urge to give out an irritated sigh, thinking to myself, "Can this day just end already?" Either way, to distract my thoughts, I turned around and moved the big window, and I was able to see the sight of the local church outside, even if I had stare through the water covered window. Strangely enough, the heavy patter of rain on the outside of the building, added with the distant sound of rolling thunder, seemed to calm my mind for a moment. Is that…a statue, over on the church? I had to squint my eyes through the window and the rain, but I was sure of it. There were two statues, standing on the church, but before I could confirm the sight of them or if they were winged statues, they were gone. I wasn't sure how or why, but I knew that they disappeared after I blinked. Maybe they were really there, or were they just a figment of my imagination or my glazed over eyes? "Okay, cracking up now." I quipped to myself in a low mutter, managing a small smirk but I still found it hard to take my eyes away from the church. Why did I have this strange feeling like they were still here?

"Hello." I turned around to see a dark-skinned bald man, wearing a black unzipped jacket and a blue shirt, walking up to me, briefly stopping to place a folder onto the nearby desk counter.

Didn't expect him to be pretty easy on the eyes. Things you learn in a day.

"DI Billy Shipton." He introduced, and I had to take a moment to once again move the wet hair out of my eyes. "Wester Drumlins, that's mine, but I can't talk to you now, got a thing I can't be late for. So if you could just…" It was at that moment that he actually looked at me and stopped talking. If I am being completely honest, it was kind of cute watching his brain have a bit of a meltdown for a moment, and I found myself giving a soft smile as his own smile, which was confident and relaxed became just for a moment a tiny bit awkward. "Hello." He greeted.

"Hello." I returned.

"Uhh…Marcie!" He called to someone behind the desk counter, and he leaned over to talk. I didn't catch most of what was said, except for Billy's last line. "So yeah, can you please tell them I'm going to be late for that…thing?" I could almost breathe a sigh of relief. And no, it's not because I found him attractive, but it was more that I could finally get somewhere with the mystery of that goddamn house. "So, Wester Drumlins, what exactly are you inquiring about?"

"Has anything strange ever been reported about that house? People disappearing, strange sights, anything?"

Billy gave a sly smile at my questions. "That there has." He answered before motioning with his hand for me to follow. "Come to our underground carpark. We can show you our collection."

""Collection"?" I repeated with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, to which Billy nodded. "Okay." I muttered and I walked with Billy through the station and down to the entrance of the underground carpark. Billy then pulled out a key, unlocked the door and swung it open before flicking on the lights to brighten up the darkness. Within the car park was a large mass of dark and unmoving cars, all of various shapes, colors, sizes and brands. It took my over stressed brain a few moments to comprehend it, and the potential answer made me hitch a breath. "Wait, all of them?" I asked, and he nodded. "All of them? From Wester Drumlins?"

"All from the last two years." Billy answered, and it made me blink in shock. "They all still have personal items in them, and a couple still had the motor running when they were reported."

When I spoke again after a moment, it was to confirm exactly what I was hearing. "So over the last two years, the owners of all these vehicles have driven up to Wester Drumlins, parked outside and just disappeared?" Billy nodded and it just made my eyes squint around at the cars. "But…how? And why?" Billy didn't answer, most likely because he himself didn't know the answer. So, I kept on looking through the carpark until my gaze landed on a very odd sight indeed. It was a very large blue box, with the words "Police Public Call Box" written at the top and a little unlit bulb on its head. How is a blue box the strangest sight I have seen today? Well…other than those creepy statues that is. "What's the blue box for?" I asked, and Billy grinned in delight.

"Ah! The pride of the Wester Drumlins collection." Billy remarked. "We found that there, too. Not sure why or how it got there. Must've been somebody's idea of a joke."

Admittance of heresy, I did not know what a police box was at this time. Now I know, but back then I did have to ask. "But what is it? What's a police box?"

Strangely enough, Billy did not react much to that question other than a shrug. He must've gotten it quite a bit, so it didn't mean much to him. "Well, it's a special kind of phone box for policemen. They used to have them all over. But this isn't a real one, the windows are the wrong size and the phone doesn't respond. Funny thing is that we can't even get in it." He said as he moved up to the box and rattled about with the door, but it did not open. "Ordinary Yale lock, but nothing fits. But that's not the big question." He said as he moved away from the box to stand in front of me. "See, you're missing the big question."

I blinked. "Okay. What's the big question?"

"Will you have a drink with me?"

I scoffed in surprise at that, but I really should have seen it coming. (No pun intended.) "I'm sorry?"

"Drink, you, me, now?" He asked simply and I blinked, already feeling a teasing smile coming on.

"Aren't you on duty, Detective Inspector Shipton?" I admonished lightly, but Billy just chuckled.

"Nope." He answered with a shake of his head. "Knocked off before I left. Told them I had a family crisis."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because life is short, and you are hot." He answered simply but bluntly, and it made me blink in flattered surprise again. "Drink?"

"No." I answered just a little too quickly and I started to walk away, but due to how I answered his question, Billy kept up in his pace with me.

"Ever?"

"Maybe." I drawled the word out a little and almost regretted it. Almost.

"Phone number?"

I snorted out a laugh. "Moving kind of fast, DI Shipton."

"Billy." He insisted, crossing his arms behind his back. "I'm off duty."

"Aren't you just." I muttered as I took out a notepad and a pen and scribbled down a series of numbers, specifically, my phone number. SO, yes, I quickly gave in, surprise surprise.

"Is that your phone number?" He asked with a knowing smile and I relented with a nod.

"Just my phone number." I teased in admonishment. "Not a promise. Not a guarantee. Not an IOU. Just a phone number." I continued as I tore the little page off and gave it to Billy.

"And that's Sally…" He trailed the question off for me to answer.

"Sally Shipton. Sparrow!" I blurted and I swear his eyes lit up in mischievous glee. "Sally Sparrow." I said fervently, quickly deciding to leave before I embarrassed myself even further. "I'm going now. Don't look at me." I muttered, holding my head low despite the fact that he already saw my cheeks beginning to burn pink.

"I'll phone you." Billy's teasing voice called.

"Don't look at me."

"Phone you tomorrow."

"Don't look at me."

"Might even phone you tonight."

"Don't look at me!" I squeaked as I opened the carpark side exit and stepped through.

"Definitely going to phone you, gorgeous girl!"

For a moment, I paused with a grin and called back, "You definitely better!" With those parting words, I closed the door, and I could almost picture the little fist pump Billy would have made in glee as I exited the police station. As I walked back to my car, I hopped inside and switched it on, shivering a little as I let myself absorb the warm air from the heater for a few moments. It's funny what small moments of silence do to you. They let your brain start to run, and I kept thinking back to the whole exchange I had with Billy. At first, I was grinning from his teasing at my slip up of a name, but then the smile slowly faded. It wasn't anything to do with Billy. I was unable to take my mind off the church sight through the window. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure that I was being followed. But it can't be statues, I mean…they're statues. Now yes, alien life was becoming more and more tangible by the day in this world. But how the hell could statues be aliens or in some way alive? They're Human creations, aren't they? To distract myself again, I thought back to Billy, and then I remembered the blue box. Strange thing to be a fake, but he did say that the lock was just an ordinary lock, but no key fit. Unless...wait. My mind went back to those three Weeping Angels from Wester Drumlins and one of them had a key. A key that I took. I reached into my pocket to pull out the key, and sure enough, it looked like an ordinary Yale key yet…there was still something off about. Or at least, not off, just…weird. Well, it's worth a try. Switching off the car, I scrambled out, locked the car and ran back into the police station and into the underground carpark. I was about to call for Billy when I realized that Billy was not there. In fact, he should've locked the door by now, but I came in, and there was no sign of him. I looked around, but what put me at more unease was that the blue box itself was also gone and in its place was large drag marks on the ground. I followed the trail towards the main carpark entrance, or what was left of it. It looked like someone had truly gone to town on it, ripping and pulling it apart until barely half of it was left, allowing wind and rain to blow inside. Before I could think further on this, I received a phone call and it was from Billy, to which I immediately answered. "Hello, Billy? Where are you?"

It wasn't the voice of a young man that came through. Instead, it was an old man, tired and nearly gone, yet still trying to be cheerful and full of life. "I'm at the hospital."

1:00pm

Okay, quick disclaimer. Just before writing this, I did make sure to ask all the people involved in this story whether they wanted themselves shared or not. Most of them didn't cared and just said, "Yeah, go for it, love, don't mind me", but the hospital that Billy was placed in did ask for privacy. So, for their sake, I will not be revealing which hospital he was in. All I will say is that I went in, made sure to confirm that I was indeed THE Sally Sparrow that he was asking for and then walked on through to the Geriatric Ward. It's strange to see the blank room of the hospital on a day like this, for the rain just would never let up. And inside this ward was only one occupant. Said occupant was one Billy Shipton, and he was lying on a bed right by the window, not necessarily asleep, but taking a small nap. He was the same man, but older. Very old, and from the brief conversation with his nurse, poor Billy Shipton did not have long to live. Old age was creeping up on him, and I might be the last person he will ever have a conversation with. So, for his sake, I didn't want to get too sad, and instead try to be as cheerful as I could be. Walking up to the bed and taking a seat in the chair beside him, I laid my hand on his and whispered, "Billy?"

Billy groaned, shifted a little, and opened his weary eyes. For a moment, it seemed that the old age in them drifted away and he seemed almost young again and he returned my warm smile. "Would you look at that." He muttered, his eyes briefly drifting towards the window. "It was raining when we met."

"It's the same rain." I informed lightly, and he gave a little chuckle.

"Well, that's convenient." He remarked, and I laughed with him for a moment.

"Come on. I'll help you sit up." I offered and he consented, if only with a hand up, motioning for careful movement.

"My bones aren't as…shall we say, spry, as they used to be." He quipped lightly as I helped him sit up and fluffed the pillows behind his back for him to lean back against. "Also I lost my hair." He added, pointing to his bald head, although I could see little touches of grey here and there.

I blinked. "You didn't have hair when we met." I pointed out and he gave a chuckle.

"No, I grew hair a little later. Here." He pointed to the bedside table and on it stood a framed photo, showing a younger Billy Shipton with a full head of dark brown hair and a matching moustache. He was wearing a suit and standing in front of closed church doors and standing beside him, clutching at a bouquet of flowers was a woman in a white bride's dress, brown of hair and, admittedly, very pretty.

"Your wife?" I deducted, and he nodded, his sad but adoring eyes stuck on the woman's face.

"My only wife, thank god." He remarked, and I smirked.

"She looks very nice." I commented, and he smiled.

"Funny thing, her name was Sally, too."

I couldn't help it but let out a snorting chuckle at that. ""Sally Shipton"."

"Sally Shipton." He said dreamily, and I laughed. "No offence, sweetheart, but she was stunning." He admitted, and I laughed again. "More than that, she was feisty. Created quite a few rows and fights, but the makeup time after." He winked with a whistle and an inhale of breath. "She was delicious."

"Nope. Don't want to know." I interrupted in embarrassment and he laughed again. "Did you have any family, or…"

He blinked in mock surprise. "Of course we did. I'm not a bloody eunuch." He admonished lightly with a little sniff. "Well, we only had the one child. I wanted to call him "Billy, Jr." but my wife, she said, "No, that is horseshit."" He quoted in a feminine voice with a smile. "So instead, we named him "Ford". And I am very proud of him. Grew up loving homes. So, he became a builder. And not a bad one at that. But he did grumble on the cold and wet days of winter." He added before pausing for a moment. "Last time I saw him was earlier today. If you think one child is hard work, then imagine three. All of them girls. I told him so when he had his third. I said, "Wait until puberty hits, then you will have a rebellion on your hands.""

"Bit harsh." I admonished, and he chuckled.

"Only a little." He said with a wink.

There was a small moment of silence between us, but the catching up was unfortunately over. Now I had a burning question in my mind. "Billy, what exactly happened when you last saw me?"

He still seemed gleeful and alive, but a tiny spark of it faded when I asked. "Just after you left, I turned around and saw four statues in the carpark."

My own smile dropped at those words. Now my own fears that had been brewing since Kathy's disappearance had suddenly been boosted by his words. "Weeping Angels?" I asked in a low mutter, and he gave an apologetic nod.

"They were surrounding the blue box, and…I walked up to one, just to see them closer. And then, I blinked, and I was in 1969 in an alleyway."

My eyes widened for a moment before they squinted. "When you blinked?" I reiterated and he nodded.

""Faster than you can believe."" He quoted, his eyes staring off out the window. "That's what the Doctor said. "You were sent back in time by the touch of an angel."" Then, he seemed to remember something as his head shot up for a moment. "You know, I often thought about looking for you before tonight, but apparently that would have torn a hole in the fabric of space and time, and destroy two thirds of the universe. At least, that's what Clara said."

"Sorry, who? Who's…the Doctor and Clara?" I asked, and Billy gave a slow nod.

"When I was sent back to 1969, they were the very first people I met. Also they had a friend, Martha Jones, and they seemed to have anticipated my arrival. Like they knew I would be there to meet them." He added in a little mutter before he shook his head slightly. "But they did tell me to carry a message to you." Then, he blinked as his eyes darted off to the side with a little squint. "Well…two messages really."

My mind was starting to go into overdrive, and it took a moment to get it to calm down again before I stuttered out, "A-a-and w-what were the messages?"

"First one, and listen carefully, okay?" He ordered, and I leaned in a little as he cleared his throat. ""Bingle bongle dingle dangle, yickety-doo, yickety-daa, ping pong, lippy tappy too taa.""

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…" Was an understatement of my response before Billy started laughing, pointing a single finger at me. "What…"

"It was a slow burn prank." Billy explained simply before continuing to laugh.

It took me a moment to comprehend what happened, and it ended with me giving a mocking gasp of surprise. "Rude." I admonished, and he nodded.

"That's exactly what I said to them." Billy agreed. "But seriously, they were too adorable for their own good." He admitted, and it made me cock an eyebrow up before I shook my head with a little sigh.

"Okay, what was the second message?"

""Look at the list.""

I blinked again, this time in puzzlement. "What does that mean? Is that it? "Look at the list"?"

"They said you'd have it by now. A list of seventeen DVDs."

How did they… I didn't bother to finish my mental question, instead, I pulled the piece of paper from Larry that I still had in my pocket, unfolded it and looked it over.

"I didn't stay a policeman back then, you know." Billy inputted, and I glanced up from the paper and back to his face. "Got into publishing. Then video publishing. Then DVDs, of course."

That one comment actually helped to calm my mind, and only one deduction came through. It was fairly simple and very quick to figure out. "You put the Easter eggs in the DVDs."

Billy nodded. "Have you noticed what all seventeen DVDs have in common yet?" I shook my head and he gave a little sigh. "I suppose it's hard for you, in a way."

I put the list aside for a second to think. "How could they have even known I had a list? I only just got this today."

Billy gave a knowing yet apologetic smirk. "I asked them how, but they said they couldn't tell me. That you'd understand it one day. In fact, it may come to you, out of nowhere." He added before he sighed. "It's kept me going, thinking of the mere chance to meet you again. They actually said that to me as well. That I would meet you just once, before the end." There was a small moment where he looked down at our hands and rubbed one thumb on the back of my own. "Ah, life is long, and you are hot." He said casually, and it made me laugh, yet it was the kind of laugh where you don't know if you're laughing or crying. Then Billy's gaze fell to his own hands and it seemed like a dreadful realization crept into his own eyes. "Oh, look at my hands." He muttered dejectedly. "They're old man's hands. How did that happen?"

The question was rhetorical, so instead of answering, I gave a different response. Just to be sure that he wouldn't pass on his own. "I'll stay. I'm going to stay with you, okay?" I offered, and he smiled kindly.

"Thank you, Sally Sparrow." He answered earnestly, patting my hands with his own. "If I'm lucky, I have until the rain stops."

7:30pm

Billy's body had honored his hope. In fact, he lasted for a few hours after the rain stopped pouring, and he passed away with a smile of relief on his face. I stayed for a little while afterwards, just watching mutely as the staff went about their business in removing his body, and soon I was alone in the room, any sunlight now gone as night had fallen, but thankfully, there was no more rain. The night would be calm and peaceful for everyone, but not for me. The final conversation me and Billy had will not be disclosed here, but it was kind and sweet, and even though I had only known him for less than a day, I was already sad to see him go. And yet now, in the silence of the room, I looked back down at the list. What the DVDs all had in common was me, and now I had to watch them. Walking out of the room and the hospital, I pulled out my phone as I got into my car and dialed the contact number of Banto's shop.

"Banto's." Was the answer from one Lawrence Nightingale. "I'm afraid we're closing at this moment, so-"

"They're mine." I interrupted.

I'm pretty sure he blinked in puzzlement at my voice and simple words. "What?"

"The 17 DVDs on the list. What they've got in common is me. They're all the DVDs I own. The Easter egg was intended for me."

There was a small moment of silence before Larry responded with, "Wait, you've only got 17 DVDs?"

Yes, I did roll my eyes at that, but I did succeed in suppressing a groan. "Do you have a portable DVD player?"

"Of course. Why?"

"I want you to meet me."

"Where?"

""Wester Drumlins.""

Chapter 6: The Weeping Angels
Or: How to Perform A Mercy Killing, By Stones and Rocks

8:00pm

It took a little bit for Larry to get to the old house, and that included both closing the store for the night and getting the necessary equipment. Yet before long, he arrived and knocked on the door, just as I had turned on the main power for the lights. (Remember: Abandoned does not mean inactive.) After I had temporarily removed my wet coat and gloves, now dressed in a few layers topped with a blue shirt that was thankfully not wet, I answered by opening it for him and as he took a step inside, he glanced around with a cocked eyebrow.

"You live in Scooby-Doo's house." He muttered dryly, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his comment.

"For God's sake, I don't live here." I retorted, but he just shrugged, and we moved out to his car, brought the equipment into the Wester Drumlins drawing room and set it all up.

Then, he pulled out two DVD cases, what they were I will not mention, but he held them up for me to choose. "Okay, this one," He started with a little shake of the one in his right hand, "has the clearest sound. The other one has slightly better picture quality but…your choice." He said with a shrug.

"Doesn't matter." I answered simply, and he gave a sigh.

"Okay." He took the one from his right hand and put it into the player, got through all the menus until he reached a blank screen, just showing a wall. Then, the man I now knew as the Doctor stepped into view, and sat down on a chair that we couldn't see, as the picture was only of him from the collarbone to his top of his head. Then, he took out a pair of black rimmed reading glasses and placed them over his eyes. "There he is." Larry said as he placed the other DVD case into his jacket pocket.

"The Doctor." I corrected, and Larry gave a blink as he looked at me.

"Who's "The Doctor"?"

"He's the Doctor."

"Yup!" A cheerful Northern accent sounded from out of the screen, and then the woman I now knew as Clara poked her head in beside the Doctor, a bright grin on her face. "That's him. And I'm Clara! Hi!"

"Clara, it's my turn." The Doctor whined, and Clara turned to him with a blink.

"Since when?" Clara asked but the Doctor didn't answer with words. Instead, he just stared at her with a "Are you kidding me?" look before he gently placed one hand on her face and pushed her out of the frame, and all Clara did was give an indignant squeak, followed by a "Rude!" before the Doctor turned back with a sniff.

"That's his missus, then?" I asked aloud, and he nodded in response.

"Yep."

I did feel a little shocked at the response, since it felt like he was actually able to hear me. "Okay." I drawled out.

"No, it sounds like he's replying, but he always says that." Larry inputted.

"Yes, I do."

"And that." Larry added, and the Doctor nodded.

"Yup, and this."

I didn't believe Larry for a second there. I was sure of it. "Oh my god, the two of you can really hear us?"

"Of course they can't hear us." Larry interjected before he picked up a green file folder and tapped at it with his finger. "Look, I've got a transcript of everything they say." He opened it up to the first page and read, ""Yup, that's me." "Yes, I do." "Yup, and this." Next, it's-"

"Are you going to read out the whole thing?" The Doctor and Clara interrupted in unison and Larry just stared at them with a blink.

"Bloody hell, that's creepy." He muttered with a little shiver before shaking his head. "Sorry."

"Who are you two?" I asked as I got down on my knees in front of the TV (NOT LIKE A BEGGAR, THANK YOU!), and this time Clara remained within the screen.

"We're time travelers. Or…we were. Now, we're stuck in 1969." The Doctor explained. Then, a dark-skinned woman appeared beside them in the screen, and they looked at her with incredulous indignation.

"We're all stuck!" The woman spat, glaring at the couple beside her. "All of space and time, they promised me, but now what? I've got a job in a shop, and I have to support these lazy morons!"

"Martha!"

"Sorry." She muttered before leaving the frame.

"Wait." I muttered with a blink. "So, you were all taken?"

"Quite possibly." The Doctor answered.

"1969? That's where you're talking from?"

"Afraid so." Clara answered, and the Doctor blinked.

"Clara, I think it's my turn." The Doctor said as he gently pushed Clara out of the frame, earning a squeak from the woman in return, and he seemed to be restraining the urge to grin as he turned back.

"Hold on, you can't know exactly what I'm going to say 40 years before I say it." I retorted.

"38." He corrected.

"Oh, I am getting this down. I'm writing in your bits." Larry interjected as he sat down with crossed legs, flipped the folder open, took out a pen and started to scribble with fury upon the pages.

"How?!" I demanded. "How is this possible?! Tell me!"

"Not so fast." Larry muttered, and I restrained the urge to sigh.

"People don't understand time. It's not what you think it is." The Doctor explained dismissively, but it did not deter me.

"Then what is it?"

"Complicated."

"Tell me."

"Very complicated." Then, just like earlier today, Clara re-entered the screen and flicked his nose. "Ow!"

"No patronizing!" She reprimanded as she left, and I was trying my very best not to laugh.

Once the Doctor recovered from the…assault, *Clears Throat*, he began to speak again. "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly…timey-wimey…stuff."

I nodded dully at that, even as Clara was giggling in the background. "Yeah, I've seen this bit before. You said that sentence got away from you."

The Doctor nodded dejectedly. "It…got away from me, yeah."

I repeated my dull nod. "Next thing you're going to say is, "Well, I CAN hear you.""

The Doctor blinked with a frown. "Well, I CAN hear you."

I gave a little laugh that was mixed with a gasp of shock. "This is impossible!" I exclaimed to Larry, who was shaking his head and laughing at my reaction.

"No, it's brilliant!" He retorted as he continued scribbling.

The Doctor gave another blink with a shrug and a scrunch of his face. "Well, not "Hear You" exactly, but I know everything you're going to say."

"Always gives me the shivers, that bit." Larry interjected.

"How can you know what I'm going to say?"

Clara laughed maniacally off screen, and the Doctor's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no, no, no."

"Oh, yes!" She exclaimed as she briefly bounced back in with a wide, mischievous smile. "If you wish to see it's grand architect, look to your left." She managed to say through giggles before the Doctor pushed her out of the screen again, and she let out another indignant squeak as she did. "Rude!"

"Why would they be referencing a film?" Larry asked, but I knew that wasn't the proper explanation. Since Larry, of course, was sitting to my left. "All they just did was reference that movie with Squidward. Honestly, I think they're bonkers." Larry said as he clicked the pen for dramatic effect and continued writing.

Well…they are bonkers, but that's not the reason. "What are you doing?" I asked, hopping up from my seat to stand behind him.

"I'm writing in your bits." He reminded. "That way I've got a complete transcript of the whole conversation." He said before chuckling with glee. "Wait until this hits the net. This will explode the egg forums."

"We've got a copy of the finished transcript." The Doctor interjected and I returned to my previous seat. "It's on our autocue. By the way, speaking of exploding eggs, did I mention how we could find people sent back into the past?" He asked rhetorically, and I just sat in silence, waiting as he left the screen for a moment before returning with a strange red and silver device with a rolling tape holder on the top. "With this, the "Timey-Wimey Detector". Goes "Ding" when there's stuff. Also, it can boil an egg at thirty paces." He added as Clara took the device away from him, and he gave a silent "Thank you" in return. "Of course, it's whether you want it to or not, so I've learned to stay away from hens. It's not pretty when they blow."

"Rrriiight." I droned out before shaking my head with a blink. "How could you have a copy of the transcript? It's still being written." I pointed out, but he just shrugged obviously.

"I told you. We're time travelers. We got it in the future."

I shook my head with another sigh. Time travel, it's so…weird. "Okay, let me get my head around this. You're reading aloud from a transcript of a conversation you're still having?"

The Doctor groaned and just waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, never mind that, it's all…wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. What matters is that we can communicate. We have got big problems now. They've taken her, haven't they? The Angels have the phone box."

Larry gave out a laugh, the kind that you give out when you hear something absolutely kickass. ""The Angels have the phone box". That's my favorite. I've got it on a t-shirt."

"What do you mean…" I trailed off as my heart sank, for I realized in a very short instant that we were still being watched. My eyes glanced up to the conservatory and there, with its hands over its eyes, stood a single winged statue. "You mean the Weeping Angels?"

The Doctor did not nod or shake his head. Instead, with a grim voice and a stare of stone, he said, "Creatures from another world. But they are statues only when you see them."

That, for a brief moment, managed to alleviate a piece of my fear, and I asked very simply, "How?"

The Doctor gave a smirk of approval at that question. ""The Lonely Assassins" they used to be called. No one quite knows where they came from, not even my lot back home, but what we do know is that they are as old as the universe itself. They might even be older for all the good it does us." The Doctor added as his smirk faded. "The only reason they have survived this long is because they have the most perfect defense system ever devised from evolution. They are "Quantum-Locked." The moment they are seen by any other living creature, they freeze into rock. They have no choice in it. It's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone. And you can't kill a stone." In unison, both mine and Larry's gazes, ever growing in fear, glanced up to the same statue until the Doctor spoke again after a small shrug. "Of course, a stone can't kill you either…until you turn your head." He added darkly after a moments pause. "Until you blink and oh yes, it can."

"Don't take your eyes off that." I growled to Larry, who did not mutter a single word or noise in objection.

"That's why they cover their eyes." The Doctor continued. "They're not weeping, they just can't risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. The loneliest creatures in the universe." Then, he gave a small sniff and a shrug. "Of course, if there's one silver lining for us, they also happen to be the nicest psychopaths. No mess and no fuss, they just zap you into the past and make you live to death. All the while in the present, they consume the energy of all the days you could have lived. They eat potential energy, the Weeping Angels, feasting on all your stolen moments. And that is why I have to say that we are so sorry." He said grimly, making me blink at the screen.

There was a small moment where I felt a sudden rush of wind behind me, and as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up petrified, I turned, but there was no one there. Or was something there, just for a moment? "For what? What am I supposed to do?"

"The blue box. She's our time machine. These Angels you've met, they have been feasting on energy from everyone that came to that house, but with a time machine? They could feast on that energy for all eternity, but they could switch off the Sun with all the damage they would inflict." The Doctor explained in a low growl. "The message on the wall for you, hopefully it's fooled the Weeping Angels long enough to throw them off, to distract them into leaving you alone for a while, and if it has…then it won't work anymore. You have got to send the box back to us." The Doctor ordered, but it just made me more afraid, and more confused.

"How?! How?!"

The Doctor, instead of answering the question, just gave a sigh as he took off and pocketed his reading glasses. "And that's it, I'm afraid. There's no more from you on the transcript, that's the last we've got. Okay, I don't know what stopped you talking, but I can guess: They're coming. The Angels are coming for you, but listen. Your life could depend on this: Don't blink." The Doctor growled out in an order, his right hand pointing at me with the utmost urgency. "Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead." From the corner of my eye, I could see the staring Larry gulp at these words, something I nearly echoed but I had to restrain it just so I could keep listening. "They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink!" He ordered before he took a breath and with a look of worried apology, he spoke only two words. "Good luck."

At that, the screen stopped, and the Doctor did not move. The disc had finished playing, and for a moment, all the reassuring comfort that he and Clara had given both me and Larry had evaporated, and the fear took hold. "No! You can't!" I exclaimed, and Larry dropped the folder to crawl over to me.

"I'll rewind him." He offered.

"What good will that do?!" I spat, but in an instant, I stopped. There, clutching the side of the entrance to the conservatory was a stone hand, and it wasn't there a single second ago. I gulped, and Larry noticed, for the fear in his eyes grew tenfold. "You're not looking at the statue."

"Neither are you."

Chapter 7: Don't Blink

The statue moved. Not by an inch, or a flick of a hair, but straight from the conservatory, stopping at the entrance with one hand grasped in the open doorway. The other hand was reaching out towards us, the hands suddenly tipped with claws, but the expression it gave was of pure, bloodthirsty rage. The eyes and mouth were wide open, the latter filled with sharp teeth, and the Angel was staring straight at us. In an instant, we bolted to our feet, our backs to the entrance of the room, our hands and legs trembling. "Keep looking at it." I ordered to Larry, who did not object in the slightest. "We'll be okay if we just keep looking at it."

"Just this one, right?" Larry prompted, but the question made me tremble all the more as I shook my head.

"There's three more." I muttered, but Larry heard as I had to take a breath to calm myself, except it didn't work.

"Three?" He whimpered, and I nodded, not even wanting to take my eyes off the Angel.

"They were upstairs, but I heard them move." I muttered, and in an instant, a wave of cold realization washed over me and my breath stuttered out shakily.

"Move…where?" Larry asked wearily.

"Larry, I need you to check the doors. Both the front and back entrance, just do it." I ordered.

"Why?" Larry asked even as he started to walk from the room.

"They're trying to trap me." I answered with another shaky breath. "I have something they want." It was almost as if Larry didn't even want to know the answer, for he rushed out of the room, leaving me to stare at the Weeping Angel, all alone. There was a small part of me that felt the need to try to smile, if only to calm myself, but when I did, it did nothing for me. "You can't kill me. Not yet." I muttered aloud, yet it was more of a deduction than a taunt, and the silence from the stone Angel confirmed it.

"Sally! They've locked us in!" Larry called, his footsteps running frantically from the front doors to the back.

"Just keep trying! Find the back door!" I ordered, starting at that moment to back away from the Angel. "I can't let you have it." I muttered to the Weeping Angel, trying to keep my head held high, but that didn't calm my ragged breathing either. "I don't care what happens to me, I can't let you have it."

"Sally! They've blocked off the back door, but there's a cellar!"

Larry's sudden words provided a sense of relief for just a small moment, but it evaporated when I realized that I could not remember where the entrance of the drawing room was. Was it right behind me, or am I about to back into a wall? "Shit." I muttered, but I had to look. For a flash, I glanced behind me to see that, thankfully, the entrance was right there, but when I glanced back, the Angel had moved. Now, it was mere inches from my face, but this time it's mouth was closed. The eyes were squinting at me in pure, venomous challenge and it made me recoil with a sharp intake of breath. "Shit!" I cursed.

"Sally!" Larry called, fear still lurking within his own voice. "Are you still there?!"

"Y-yes." I muttered out, but it was not loud enough. Restarting my progress of backing away, I cleared my throat and called, "Yes! I'm coming down!"

"Hurry up!"

Backing away until I was past the doorway, I managed to mutter out one last time, "I'm sorry. I can't let you have it." Then, I started to walk sideways through the house, using my arms outstretched to find my way and every time I rounded a corner, I heard that sudden rush of wind and the Angel appeared in my sight, its hands grasping each wall corner, still staring at me, but the closer and closer I got to the cellar where Larry was waiting, looking in all directions, the mouth began to reopen to silently snarl its sharp fangs once again. "Come on, go!" I ordered to Larry, and he moved first down the stairs, grasping my hand to help guide me down as I kept my gaze on the Angel, moving down until my feet hit proper ground. Pressing our backs together, we turned sideways to get a good look around the semi-darkened cellar basement. The ground was only dirt, and only one main light bulb was working, the rest were either disconnected or entirely missing. And then there were the other three Angels. They were standing around the same big blue box from the police station, the time ship that belonged to the Doctor and Clara, and as always, their hands were covering their faces. "A whole world in that box, they said. Let's hope they're not lying, because I don't see how else to get out." And it was true, for there was no form of hatch or other door here in this cellar. Only one way in and out. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the ordinary key, and for an instant, I felt as if I was being glared at by all of the Weeping Angels, as if they knew what it was that I drew out into the open. "Larry, come on." I ordered, and with our eyes darting frantically between the statues, we figuratively slammed our bodies against the box, and I pressed the key into the lock. Oh, thank you! It's the right key!

"Um…Sally?" Larry asked meekly before I could turn the key. "Why is it pointing at the light?" But I wasn't able to answer as I glanced back to see the fourth statue now inside the cellar, its right hand pointing to the solitary bulb. The light began to flicker, slowly getting dimmer and dimmer with each flick, and we both immediately knew what would happen when it got too dark. "Sally, get it open!" He cried just as the light got too dark for one second, and all the Angels jumped forward in a rush, whipping up a pocket of dirt from the ground in their path. Their arms were outstretched, their claws no longer hidden away and their faces a cold grey face of blood thirst. "Sally!" Larry called as I twisted the key, heard the door unlock and dove in, reaching out my arm to grasp Larry's shoulder and pull him in. We slammed the door shut and locked it, and then…all was silent. Both inside and outside the box, there was no sound except for our ragged breathing as we suddenly felt…warm. Not "Warm" warm, but more…calm warm. Like a peaceful warm. We turned around, and our jaws dropped at the sight that greeted us. The room was large, filled with coral archways that extended up to the ceiling, all round with no straight walls and dead in the center, up the metal ramp that was surrounded on both sides by a hand railing was a large console, covered with many strange looking buttons and controls. One looked like a metal pumper with a black handle, another looked like a lever, another was a silver slim monitor with a keyboard, but all its blue screen showed was a mass of circular symbols. Before our minds could wrap around the sight properly, we heard a quick "Zap", and standing up on the elevated walkway at the back of the room was the Doctor and Clara, now fully visible from head to toe but colored blue and transparent, rather like a ghost.

"Come and play with us, Danny." Clara said with a hissing whisper, and the only response came from the Doctor, who with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows slowly turned his head to look at her. "Forever, and ever, and ever-*Squeak*!" The Doctor placed one hand at her throat and gave her a slight tickle, to which she recoiled with a flushed smile as she tried to draw away, and the Doctor let her, even as he laughed. "Shut up." She muttered to him, and he just winked at her before they cleared their throats and turned back to us.

"This is Security Protocol 712." The Doctor and Clara said in unison, and I raised my eyebrows at them in surprise, whilst Larry just seemed to shiver in fear. "This gorgeous time capsule has detected the presence of an authorized control disc, valid one journey." Larry seemed to immediately realize what the holograms were talking about, and he reached into his pocket to pull out a case and opened it. The disc inside looked like a normal disc, but…something seemed strange about it. Rather like the key. Larry looked between the disc, me, and the holograms and back to the disc again. "Please insert the disc and prepare for departure." They said with a smile before the holograms disappeared in a flickering flash.

Then, before me or Larry could do anything, the Doctor re-appeared, by himself, sitting on the Captain's chair with one leg on the floor and the other elevated by its shin atop the other's knee. "Oh, and uh, one more thing," The Doctor started with a brief glance off after a blink as he smiled again, "upon leaving the time capsule…please don't do anything that may avert the creation of your own species. Thank you!" He beamed before he disappeared again.

I hurried over to the monitor and found a DVD disc slot just beneath the keyboard. "Larry, there's a slot-" But I was cut off from speaking as the ship suddenly rocked around us, and I was sent sprawled against the console whilst Larry fell against one of the archways, clutching at the DVD case tight with his free hand. It was fairly obvious to the both of us what caused the rocking. "Larry, hurry up! They're getting in!" I ordered, and Larry, amongst the hurtling of the ship, moved over to the console and placed the disc into the slot. Then, the ship started to hum and rumble around us, giving off a loud, wheezing groan as the rotor in the console started to move up and down.

"What's happening?" Larry asked as the hurtling from outside seem to come to a stop, but as I tried to reach my hand up to the railing to brace myself, it just went through it, and there was a little lurch as me and Larry fell a single foot to hit dirt instead of metal railing.

"It's leaving us behind." I muttered aloud, the previously alleviated fear starting to return in full force as I looked up at the moving rotor. "You can't do this! Please!" I pleaded up, but the only answer was the ship slowly fading away with each wheezing groan, and then like a flash, the Angels appeared around me and Larry, and we grasped onto each other's arms for some kind of support. We screamed and screamed, holding our heads down in vain hope, even as the wheezing stopped and the ship disappeared completely. We waited, whimpering and silently pleading and yet…nothing happened. Strange. The…*Clears Throat* "Rational" part of my mind muttered, but for a moment I did not want to listen. They should have moved by now, unless… When I thought about that, which wasn't for very long, it made some form of sense. So, being very careful to not have my hopes lifted, I looked up. The Angels were still there, and we were still inside the Wester Drumlins cellar. And the Angels were looking at each other.

When Larry lifted his head, he immediately began to exclaim, "Look at them! Look…" And then he also stopped. Moving quickly and cautiously, we got out from the little circle group created by the four Angels, stood up, clicked our backs and turned to the statues. They did not move once when our eyes were averted. "He tricked them." Larry realized aloud. "The Doctor and Clara, they both tricked them. They're never going to move again."

Epilogue

Sparrow and Nightingale
9th June 2008

It's a strange idea to go from being pursued by living, murderous statues in an old house to a full year time jump, but there are always parts in a story that should never be told. Mostly because it's just tedious and unnecessary. And that's what happened for a year after the four Angels were tricked into looking at each other for a very long time. There are some things, however, that I will mention here. Wester Drumlins has been sealed off completely, and no members of the public are allowed or even able to enter the old building anymore. Not entirely sure who was behind it, but Larry did say something about a group called "U.N.I.T" were the ones behind the sudden action. Then Banto, the owner of the DVD shop as you may recall, decided to move away to Australia. Never asked exactly why, but I do guess that he got a different job offer from a friend, to which he would have accepted hastily, considering the speed at which he left London. Not entirely sure how this next bit happened, but Larry managed to become the new owner of the DVD store. I say I wasn't entirely sure how it happened because for a full year, my mind kept on drifting back to the Doctor and Clara, and all the cryptic messages that they had left behind. How did they do it? More importantly, why me? Strange. There were some things that I do remember from the year that passed by in a blur. The main point was that Larry's first objective was to rename the store. There were some ideas, but after I had told him truly what had happened to his sister Kathy, (And there was more than a few tears shed between us by the end of that conversation), he decided to rename the store after a line that Kathy had said on the last day that we ever spoke to her. "Sparrow and Nightingale." Now, I don't exactly work there all the time, of course, since I love to write, but I do give Larry a hand every once in a while, when I'm in a bit of a lull. (Paid work, of course. *Wink*) Yet still, there was always a few minutes of every day when I brought out that bloody folder and kept on looking at the information found within. There was the written transcript, the photo of the message on the Wester Drumlins drawing room wall, the photographs and letter from Kathy, the wedding photo from Billy, the list of the seventeen DVDs and of course, the key to the time ship. And yet, even after all this time, I still could not unravel it. Was something missing, or am I meant to wait for something to happen?

"Can you mind the shop?" Larry asked suddenly, and I nearly jumped in shock at his sudden intrusion into my inner rambling. "I'm just nipping next door for some milk."

"Yeah. No worries." I nodded, but the fake smile of reassurance on my face faded as Larry's gaze fell to the folder.

"What's this?" He asked, managing to take the folder from me before I could stop him.

"It's nothing." I tried to say dismissively but he was already looking at the contents and sighing to himself before he placed them all back inside the folder and closed it.

"Sally, can't you let it go?" He asked. "It's over."

"Of course it's not over." I refuted. "How did they know where to write the words on the wall? How could they get a copy of the transcript? Where did they get all that information from?"

For a second, Larry looked as if he wanted to dive into the rabbit hole with me, but instead, he backed off and shook his head. "Sally, do you ever think that this might be getting in the way of your life?"

For a moment, I was a bit confused as to what he was meaning, but the genuine look of concern in his eyes provided a very simple answer: I was getting obsessed, and to be honest, I was a little bit horrified at the thought. "No, it can't-"

"Sally," Larry interrupted with another sigh as he placed the folder down on the counter and put his finger on it, "I'll make you a deal, okay? I will double your pay rates of every day you work here if you let it go."

"Larry…that's a bit harsh, don't you think?" I asked with an amused blink, but he just cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Is that a no?"

Oh, shit. He had a good point, and made a very decent deal. So, why did your eyes only stay on him and not drift to the folder when he asked, eh girl?

Before I could figure that bit out, Larry just cleared his throat and walked around the counter. "Anyway, milk. Be back in a mo. But…do think about that, okay?" He asked, and I relented with a nod. "K." He said with a click of his tongue accompanied by a wink as he left the store.

For a moment, I debated with my own mind on what my answer could be. Yes, or no? I mean…oh. Oh! Strangely, at that moment, as if to plant the seed for what the answer now truly was, a cab pulled up outside the store and the back door opened. And of course, it is very obvious who the trio was that jumped out of the car. Immediately as the door closed and the cab drove off, Martha Jones shoved a long bow into the Doctor's hands, before she heaved a quiver of arrows into Clara's arms, and the couple just looked at her in shocked indignation. Martha didn't say anything, all she did was just hold up a finger in front of their faces with a fierce look on her face before backing off, kind of like when your mother catches you stealing cookies from the pantry. Then, Martha grinned and slowly walked away, leaving them standing there for a moment as they called Martha's name in unified whining, but Martha just waved at them in response. Sally, go! In an instant, I got up from the counter, took the folder in my hands and dove out the store exit, calling, "Doctor! Clara!"

The couple turned around with wide eyes, but they did bear a kind smile of greeting. "Uh, hello." Clara greeted but she looked just as confused as the Doctor, regarding my sudden appearance.

"Hello. Sorry." He quickly added before I could speak, even as I was grinning like a moron. "Bit of a rush. There's a sort of a…uh…thing, happening." The Doctor said but he seemed rather unable to explain what they were going to. "Fairly important we stop it."

"Oh, my god. It's you two." I muttered with a relieved grin. "It really is you." They looked at me like I was mad, and a little realization washed over me and it made me give out a breath. "You don't remember me, don't you?"

They both just shook their heads with an apologetic gaze in their eyes. "Sorry, we've got a bit of a complex life." The Doctor explained. "Things don't always happen to us in quite the right order. Gets a bit confusing at times, especially at weddings."

"I can confirm that." Clara added with a little nod. "We're dreadful at weddings."

That was another realization that washed over me, and I almost smacked myself at my idiocy. "Of course, you're time travelers. It hasn't happened to you yet, none of it. It's still in your future, and…" They got it all from me. Oh for fuck's sake, Sally Sparrow, you stupid woman.

"What?" They asked, glancing at each other in puzzlement, with just a twinge of intrigue. "What hasn't happened yet?"

I let out a breath and cleared my throat. "Okay, listen. One day, the three of you are going to get stuck in 1969. Make sure you've got this with you." I said, passing them the folder, and they just looked at it with a, "Okay" expression. "You're going to need it." I managed to say as Martha raced up to us with an anxious look on her face.

"Come on, you two! We've got to go! Twenty minutes to red hatching!" She said before she flicked me a gaze. "Sorry." She muttered to me, but I just waved it off with a smile.

"Yeah, sorry." The Doctor said as he pointed off somewhere to his left, or my right. "Got to dash. Things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things…and a lizard."

That last one made me blink but I just shrugged at it. "Okay, no worries. On you go." They smiled and started off but stopped as I called, "See you around someday!"

They turned to look at me, and Clara asked, "What was your name?"

"Sally Sparrow."

They smiled as the Doctor wrapped an arm around Clara's waist and said, "Good to meet you, Sally Sparrow." Then, they glanced to a point right behind me with a little blink, and I turned to see Larry standing there, a bottle of milk in his hands and his jaw dropped as he looked between the two of them.

"That's Larry." I introduced as I walked back to take Larry's hand, if only to bring him back down to Earth.

"Um…hi." Larry greeted in that voice that awe-struck fans give their heroes, even if he looked more confused than he had ever looked.

"Hi, Larry!" They called with a beaming grin, and it just made Larry's eyes widen even more.

I looked at the pair and gave them a smile. "Goodbye, Doctor. Goodbye, Clara." Then, with a wave of farewell, we walked back inside the shop, and the time traveling couple disappeared from our lives. It's a strange feeling to end the story like this, but it is where the story ends. Will I be called a nutter for it? Absolutely. Is it deserved? Probably. Look at some parts of this story differently and you have a Scooby-Doo movie on your hands. (All Rights Reserved.) But I will leave you with one passing thought. The Weeping Angels? They are real, and they are out there. They can be any statue you find, sometimes they won't even have wings. But if you do find one, if you ever see a statue and you think that it feels just completely wrong, I will repeat the only advice that you can ever get about them here and now.

Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink. Good luck.

The End

AN: I hope you enjoyed the different style I took with this chapter, but I thought it appropriate for Sally and her tale. And yes, if you did pick up on it, the added subtitles were inspired by "Dr. Strangelove". Not sure how that came about, but they ended up in this chapter regardless. Anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading and please leave a review if you wish. :)