A/N: This is sequel to One Heart. I intend to write a second and maybe a third chapter for this one, in which I plan to have Sam, Dean and possibly Castiel and Crowley appear. I've made this a second chapter to One Heart because though it's still a crossover, there are no Supernatural characters, and there will be in the next part. To be honest, I'm having a lot of fun mixing the darker, gorier side of SPN with Doctor Who, which is a pretty bloodless show. Hope you enjoy
Amy steps out of the TARDIS, squinting in the sunlight. Once again, she and the Doctor have essentially dropped out of the sky, into some unknown country, on some unknown planet, and- wait.
"Doctor," she says. "Are we still on Earth?"
He's standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips, grinning at the trees.
"Yep! Still Earth! Don't know why; I'm sure she has a good reason though."
Amy knows that by 'she' he means the blue Police Box behind them, parked smack bang in the middle of a grassy field on the outskirts of an ordinary Earth town.
"We're in America," he says. "Close to your time, too." He takes his screwdriver out of his coat pocket and points it straight down between his feet. His eyebrows furrow a little, and though Amy doesn't know it, he's wondering exactly why they've been dropped just a few years and a few hundred miles away from the location of his last visit.
"It's the year 2009. We're somewhere in Texas, I think." He puts the screwdriver up to his ear and shakes it up and down. "That's odd. Something's interfering with the sonic."
He looks at her and shrugs, then grins and says, "I guess we'd better find out why."
She smiles back, but something seems off about his mood. Something between sad and concerned, though he's trying hard to cover it up. She knows him too well to fall for his facade.
There's been something off for the last couple days, actually. It's not just now that she's noticed the shift. She's also quite sure that she's missing a small chunk of her memory. Last night she dreamed of a bright white light, a shout of horror and then a strange ringing silence. She woke up scared, and didn't know why.
Amy notes that it's getting dark already. The golden glow of the sun is bright, but it's sinking over the horizon and she can tell that they have maybe an hour until full dark. She's about to mention this to the Doctor when suddenly a thin, wavering scream floats through the air. It's the sound of someone who's been screaming for a long time, and that frightens her more than she can say. Of course, the moment they hear it he's spinning around on the spot, trying to figure out where it came from, and then running clumsily away towards it.
And by now she knows better than to try and stop him, so she follows. Soon they emerge onto a dusty back road, close to what looks like a power station. A few wooden houses, with dry front yards and closed curtains, flank the sidewalks. There's no one around save for a creepy looking blackbird and a plethora of mosquitoes, which Amy brushes irritably away.
She shivers, and watches as the Doctor points his screwdriver every which way until the noise starts to stutter and cough, and they carry on, saying nothing, in that direction.
Sitting on a knoll of dead grass and purple-flowered thistle is a brown house, not unlike every other house on the street. There's something off about it though. They stand in front of it, the Doctor tapping his screwdriver with his palm as it continues to stutter.
"Are we going in there?" she says. She's not sure why, but this house gives her the creeps.
He frowns; he feels it too. Though the sinking sun is bright and warm, and the air is quite humid, he feels the chill in his bones and the cold flush rising in his cheeks. The hand holding the screwdriver starts to tremble, and for the first time in a long time he finds himself wanting to turn back. The TARDIS, sitting merely metres away, offers safety and warmth, while this place just feels wrong.
"We're going in, Pond. Old Sexy bought us here for a reason; we have to trust her judgement."
Amy lets out a little sigh and shoots him a sideways look. She knows how much he loves his "Sexy", but right now she thinks it would be better for him to listen to her.
"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oh, you're always warning me, and I'm always fine." He sweeps his arm in the direction of the house and walks towards it, calling back, "come along, Pond. In we go."
The windows of the house are dusty, and so is the porch. The house looks lived in, though; there's a muddy trail leading from the door and down the steps, and the lawn is clipped- though dead. They walk slowly down the garden path and up the stairs. Amy glances at the wind chimes hanging next to the door. They're clinking slightly, as if from a soft breeze. Only there is no breeze; the air is completely still.
The Doctor turns the brass handle and pushes the door open. Amy takes his arm and moves to stand slightly behind him, so anyone looking at them from inside would see her head peeking over his shoulder, her bright brown eyes wide and suspicious, and her red painted nails clutching the sleeve of his jacket.
He fiddles with the settings on his screwdriver and points it directly into the house. Almost instantly from it comes a strange keening noise, like a child wailing from miles away, or a small dog waiting by the front door for its master's return.
Amy realises that she's forgotten to breathe.
They move forward. Through the door and into the corridor, where the light is dim and the only furnishings are a small end table on which rests dirty lamp. Amy reaches over and quickly switches it on, ignoring the jerk of the Doctor's shoulders as a pale light illuminates the walls.
The very first thing Amy sees is the fresh streak of blood on the floor.
The Doctor feels her hand leave his arm and he whirls around, slightly clumsily, and grabs her. The tightness of his grip is uncomfortable. Amy struggles for a few seconds, but as she stares out the open door into the light and freedom of the still bright outdoors, his words come back to her. They're here for a reason, and whoever that blood belongs to needs their help.
He knows she doesn't have to explain it to her when she turns to face him. He simply gives her a brief but tight hug, then gently takes her hand and leads her towards the only open door in the hallway. It's then that Amy gets to thinking about the last few months. Random images flash through her mind: Rory stepping out the TARDIS and Amy closing the slowly door behind him; the Doctor standing at the console, frantically trying to stop the klaxon from blaring; red light filling the inside of the control room; landing in London in the middle of a lightning storm; white light, a shout and a scream... Before she knows it she's shaking, but the Doctor's hand is gone and so is he, and she realises she's stopped in the doorway and her eyes are shut tight and she knows she shouldn't open them but she doesn't know why. It's a bad idea; she should turn around, run away. She should have listened to her own advice, she thinks later.
Amy forces herself to peek into the room from behind her lashes.
"No... no no no- Amy, don't look!" he says.
It's too late. Amy's kneeling on the floor in an instant, half fainting, half about to vomit. She holds her gorge down with some effort, then stands and stumbles out of the room. The Doctor finds her on the porch, sitting next to the door. She has her scarf scrunched up in her hands, and her skin, usually pale, looks almost translucent, covered as she is in a thin sheen of sweat. She feels cold, and there's a persistent ache in her belly, like there's a monster of terror trying to tear its way out.
He sits carefully down beside her and sighs, his hands in his lap.
"I really wish you hadn't seen that, Amy."
She sniffs and says, "me too." There's a few second's pause, and then she says, "Do you still think we should be here?"
He doesn't answer her at first; he's obviously thinking hard. "Yes, Amy, I'm afraid I don't think we can leave now. There's obviously something very wrong here."
"I knew you'd say that." She sniffs again, and presses her palms into her eyes, trying to force the image of what she'd just seen out of her brain.
It wasn't like anything she'd seen before. The room was a mess- furniture overturned, ornaments and shattered glass all over the floor, curtains shredded and spattered with blood... and in the fading light cast by the sinking sun lay a woman, though she was barely recognisable as human. Her chest and stomach were ripped open, her dead organs laid bare for them to see. Vast amounts of her blood had pooled around her and on her; Amy noticed before she closed her eyes that her mouth was full of it, and so were her empty eye sockets. It was, in a word, horrific, and though Amy would try hard to erase it, she never could.
And so she was both disgusted and terrified when the Doctor stood and went back into the house, carrying his screwdriver.