John Winchester was, at the moment, very much not in the mood to be fucked with.
He had been hunting in the woods near the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. It was a standard run, vengeful spirit, salt and burn, nothing special. But then, he'd seen her.
A young blonde woman had flickered into existence out of nowhere, almost like a ghost. But ghosts didn't faint. Ghosts didn't glow weird colors. And ghosts definitely, definitely, didn't have yellow eyes.
All those years looking, all that pain and waiting and wishing it had been different, and the hated Yellow Eyes had fallen right into his lap. There was no room for rational thought, none of the thinking things through and assessing the situation before charging in. This was not an opportunity he was missing. Rage took over. He grabbed the girl and took her, stuffing her in the trunk of the impala and taking off.
Now she was tied up in a chair in front of him, in the hunting cabin he'd rented. She was still unconscious, head drooping on one shoulder, a few locks of blond hair falling messily over her face. She couldn't have been more than twenty, hardly more than a kid. John couldn't help but think about how wrong that was, that the monster, the thing that had killed his wife, could look so innocent.
The rage still boiled in his blood, but now it was colder, like ice. His wife had burned, her stomach sliced open, until there was nothing left of her beauty but ash. He was going to make this sorry son of a bitch die slow. For now, he just waited for the creature to wake, letting his rage simmer, imagining all the ways he could possibly make her suffer.
SCENEBREAK
Rose let out a groan, fighting a wave of dizziness as she slowly came to. She felt groggy, her whole body sort of heavy. The companion opened her eyes, blinking a couple times to clear her vision.
As her gaze focused, she saw that she was in some sort of cabin, with old wooden flooring and walls, and a couple rugs. A dusty old window was the only source of light, weakly filtering in the early morning sun. Her gaze swept over the room, finally reaching a man over by the kitchen area. He was facing away from her, hunched over a table, doing something Rose couldn't quite see.
Rose coughed. "Hey, sir?" She tried to stand, only to find her hands and feet bound with rope. Instead of freaking out, like a normal person might, all she could do was groan and think, Not again.
The man stiffened. "You're finally awake," he remarked in a gruff American accent. As he turned to face her, Rose finally caught a glimpse of all the weapons lined up on the table, the sharp glint of knives and metal gleam of guns, and things she hadn't even seen before. She tensed, wrists tugging against their bonds. The man picked up one of the knives, handling it casually, twirling it like he didn't even notice it was there. He came over stiffly, gaze never wavering from Rose as he slowly sat in a chair across from her. "Been a long time," he remarked quietly.
Rose tugged nervously at her ropes. There was something in the man's voice, a quiet rage, something burried but not quite gone. It almost reminded her of the Doctor, her first Doctor with the big ears and the Northern accent and the goofy grin, but this man seemed even colder. She forced her voice to stay even as she asked, "I'm sorry, have we met? I don't really live my life in order, see, sometimes people meet me before I meet them."
The man leaned forward, tensed, knife held far too comfortably in his hand. "You know who I am, Yellow Eyes," the man growled out. "You know what you did to me."
Rose blinked. Yellow Eyes? That sounded familiar somehow, but she couldn't think of why exactly. Slowly she told him, "I think you've got me confused. My name is Rose Tyler, and I honestly don't know who you are -"
The man held up his knife, pointing it right at her throat, causing Rose to fall silent. She watched him in wary silence as he continued to point it at her. He spoke again in a very deliberate tone. "Don't. Lie. To me." He got up, slowly beginning to circle Rose. "I don't know what you are, or why you did it. I don't know who that girl is you're wearing -"
"I'm sorry, what?" Rose interrupted, forgetting her fear for a moment through sheer confusion. "What do you mean, the girl I'm wearing?"
"I mean that poor soul you're using as a meatsuit," the man snapped. "You sick bastard, she can't be more than twenty. Stupid me, thinking you'd have the decency to wear someone older when I finally found you." He leaned in closer to her shoulder, voice going low and threatening. "But don't think that'll stop me from flaying the skin off your bones." Rose shuddered despite herself. Whoever this man thought she was, he clearly hated that person more than anything.
"You're mistaken," she said as calmly as she could manage. "I'm not wearing anybody, and I'm not Yellow Eyes, whatever that means. I'm human."
The man rolled his eyes. "Stop wasting my time," he growled. "I saw you, out there. I don't know how you're pulling it, but I saw your eyes, yellow as the day you took my wife from me." There was cold hatred in his voice as he spoke, rage making his voice tremble.
Yellow eyes. No, not yellow, golden. Golden with the glow of Time. The Bad Wolf. Rose finally remembered showing up in the forest, the feeling that something had drained her, the same feeling on that game platform a year ago. She remembered the Daleks and Cyberman, the Army of Ghosts, Torchwood, Canary Wharf. Being pulled into the Void. Promising the Doctor she was going to stay with him.
Rose's eyes widened with horror. The Void. She'd been pulled into the Void. No. Her throat felt tight, heart squeezing painfully. In a hoarse whisper, she asked the man, "Where am I?"
"I'm asking the questions around here -" the man started.
"Where am I?!" Rose practically screamed, heart hammering against her ribs, roaring in her ears. No. It couldn't be. She couldn't have lost them all. The Doctor, her family, everyone she'd ever known... No. It couldn't be, it couldn't.
Not bothering to wait for the man to give her an answer, she shifted her arms so she could reach her pocket. The man tensed, reaching as if to stop her, but she just pulled out her phone. With a trembling hand she slid the case open.
No signal.
She froze. No. The Doctor had fixed her phone so that it could pick up a signal anywhere, absolutely anywhere in Time and Space. If it couldn't find one here, that could only mean one thing. She was in a parallel universe, and the Doctor and the TARDIS weren't. Her only hope of hopping through dimensions, of getting home. They were lost, forever. She was stuck.
"No!" Rose completely forgot about the man as she took in deep, heaving breaths, sobs wracking her shoulders. She'd lost him, she'd lost them all. Her mum, Pete, Mickey, the Doctor. Her family. She thought she'd chosen one over the other, but now she'd lost them all, everyone she'd ever cared about, she was never going to see any of them again. And the Doctor, her Time Lord, that idiot man with the messy hair that made her crazy, and the brainy specs he put on just to look impressive, and the excited grin that was always so infectious, and the hand that fit so comfortably in hers. The man she loved to the ends of the universe, though she'd never faced those feelings before, the man she would've died for a hundred times over, and nearly had. Gone. The pain flooded through her, breaking out in broken, heaving sobs, emotions she could no longer control.
All she could do was sob, and mourn what she had lost.
SCENEBREAK
John was at a loss.
He was not a man easily surprised, and he had expected Yellow Eyes to play some mind tricks when he was finally caught. But this wasn't the hyperventilating whimpering of a civilian, or the BS he'd expect from someone trying to play off as human. This was the uncontrollable sobbing of someone who had lost someone. This was the kind of crying you just couldn't stop, the kind that tore the air from your lungs and left your throat raw. That was real.
John was conflicted. On the one hand, he really wanted to keep hating this girl, his only lead on his wife's death. But he'd felt that pain before, the feeling of loss do great it scraped out everything inside and left you raw. That wasn't something that could be faked. He knew it too well.
The girl had appeared out of nowhere, encased in a strange, warm glow. Her eyes had blazed with a fierce, golden glow. Golden. Golden, not yellow. He'd been so desperate to have found Yellow Eyes at last that he'd been willing to forget what he'd actually seen in favor of what he'd wanted to see. He would never forget the hateful yellow eyes of the man who killed his wife, and that wasn't what he'd seen last night. This wasn't Yellow Eyes.
The rage drained out of him, leaving him feeling weary and empty. Just another dead end, another day he'd failed his wife. He put a hand over his face, ignoring the girl's sobs for a few minutes, quietly contemplating the loss of his victory.
He only gave himself a minute of grief. Then the Hunter in him took over, forced him to clear his head and think. The girl may not be Yellow Eyes, but something had definitely been possessing her in that forest. People didn't just glow gold for no reason. He had to figure out why, and finish the case he came for in the first place.
John slowly rose from his chair, crossing back over to the table to set his knife down. In its place, he picked up his flask of Holy water, pouring it into a glass, with a pinch of salt. Just because he'd decided to trust that she was human didn't mean he was stupid.
The Hunter turned back to the girl, who's sobs had subsided to a weak whimper. Uncomfortable, he let out a gruff cough, causing her to look up. "Here." He held out the glass.
She started to reach for it, but her hands were still bound, keeping her arms awkwardly pinned to her side. "Er, little help with this?" she asked in her British accent, waving her hands a little for emphasis.
"Right, sorry." He reached back for the knife on the table, then used it to free her hands. The girl rubbed her wrists as the rope fell off, then stretched out her arms, which were probably stiff from sitting too long. She bent down and undid the rope binding her feet and waist, then reached out and grabbed the glass she'd been offered, looking perfectly content to sit in the chair she'd been tied in.
"Thanks," the girl said in a slightly hoarse voice. She took a sip, then grimaced, probably at the salty taste. But no other adverse reaction. She was clean.
John nodded, taking the glass back and putting it on the table behind him. "Sorry about that," he said gruffly, "I thought you were someone else."
The girl shrugged. "Eh, I've been through worse," she said unconcernedly.
That got John's attention. "You've been through worse than some guy kidnapping you in the woods, tying you up, and threatening you with a knife?" he asked dubiously.
To his surprise, she just let out a light chuckle, still muffled by a throat raw from crying. "You've got no idea," she said mysteriously. She blinked at him, fear seemingly replaced by pure curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, who'd'ya think I was? I'm guessing you're not best friends."
Rage stirred in him again at the mention of Yellow Eyes, but he pushed it away. "It doesn't matter," he said darkly. This girl's curiosity and complete lack of fear were starting to irritate her. Time to get this conversation back on track. "Listen, do you have any idea how you got out in that forest?"
"Er, not entirely," the girl admitted, though John got the feeling there was something she wasn't saying. "Where am I, exactly?"
"Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia," John supplied.
The girl nodded, not looking that surprised. "Right, I figured it was America, what with the accent and all," she reasoned. "Would you mind telling me what year it is? Not to sound too weird or anything."
John looked at her in surprise. What year?Whatever had been using her as a meatsuit must've been there years, even decades, if she wasn't sure what year it was. The girl should've been frightened out of her mind, or even a bit disoriented, but after she was done crying, she seemed completely okay with her situation. By rights she should be running and screaming from the stranger who'd kidnapped her, not sitting and calmly answering his questions. It was unnerving.
"1990," he told her. She nodded to herself, again not looking surprised. He leaned in closer. "Do you have any idea how long you've been like this?"
"Like what?" she asked, looking confused.
Maybe she doesn't know what happened to her.He stood, putting a hand on the back of the chair. "Listen, I don't have time to sugarcoat this, and you seem pretty hard to faze, so here goes. I'm pretty sure you've been possessed by something."
Her eyes widened. "Possessed?" she repeated incredulously. She didn't seem disbelieving though, just... surprised.
He nodded. "I've seen it before. Not quite like you, though. You just appeared out of nowhere, and golden and glowing, then collapsed. I don't think it was a demon, I didn't see any black smoke, but you never know. It could've been a spirit of some kind, but I've never heard of one possessing anyone for a long stretch of time. 'Course, I guess you could've just been zapped here by something, maybe some sort of god or something, though I've never heard of anything just zapping people to the middle of nowhere."
"Whoa, slow down," she said, holding up her hands. "What're you talking about? Ghosts, demons, gods?"
He held back an impatient sigh. "They're all real," he said as patiently as he could. "All of those and more, any of those monsters you look for in the shadows when you're a kid. One of them's the reason you're here, and I need to figure out which one and how to kill it so you can get back to your life."
SCENEBREAK
Rose really wasn't sure what the man was talking about. The closest she'd ever come to seeing ghosts was that Christmas in Cardiff, when they fought the Gelth with Charles Dickens. Not to mention the Cyberman...
She shook her head, chasing off that thought before it could properly form. Instead, she wondered about the man's words. Was he talking about aliens? Sometimes they were mistaken for monsters. Could be, though she hasn't heard of any that could posses people. At least, not with technology from 1990, no matter what planet.
Before she could ask any more questions, the man's cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, picking up the call. "Agent Howard," he greeted shortly. He listened for a few moments, then nodded. "Alright. I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut.
Rose watched him curiously. "What was that about?" she asked.
He sighed, putting the phone down. "I'm going to need you to stay here," he told her brusquely. "You're not the only supernatural thing in town, and I've got work to do."
"What kind of work?" He'd said earlier he planned to kill whatever had sent her here. If it really was some sort of alien, she couldn't just let him kill it, not without trying to figure out why it was there and how friendly it was.
The man seemed irritated by the question. "It doesn't matter," he said dismissively. He turned to the table, grabbing his keys and some other stuff. "There's some leftovers in the fridge if you want anything," he told her without looking at her. "When I get back, I'll be able to help you get back home, but not until I figure out what brought you here in the first place." He started towards the door.
"So you want me to just sit here being useless?" she asked dubiously.
"Yes," he replied bluntly.
She got to her feet. "Too bad," she told him just as bluntly. "I'm coming with you."
The man just rolled his eyes. "No, you're really not."
Rose just smirked, that mix of eager and smug the Doctor used on the idiots who thought they could tell him what to do. "I'm coming whether you like it or not," she informed him.
She started towards the door, but he put out an arm to block her. In a firm voice he told her, "I don't need to be looking after some clueless kid while I'm trying to do my job."
Rose scoffed. "I'm capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much, and I'm not a kid." The loss of her family still hurt like hell, but she wasn't going to just sit around while she could be helping save people. Besides, it would distract her from thinking too much about what she'd lost.
The man's eyes narrowed. "I'll tie you up again if I have to," he warned.
Rose just rolled her eyes. "You willing to bet I can't figure a way out of that?" she asked scornfully. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You leave me in that chair, I won't be here when you get back, and you'll never know what happened."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. For several moments, he didn't say anything. Rose just met his glare evenly, the corner of her lip still twitched into a slight smirk. She'd convinced the Doctor to let her see her dad in Pete's world, she'd convinced a Dalek not to kill a man. She was Rose bloody Tyler. This guy didn't stand a chance.
Finally, the man moved his arm out of the way. "Fine," he growled.
Rose gave that infuriating grin the Doctor had picked up from her, pushing past the man to get outside. Her heart wasn't totally in it yet, but as long as she was moving and on an adventure again, she wouldn't have to think about the Time Lord she'd lost.
"Come on then," she called cheerfully over her shoulder. "Allons-y!"
So, here's another chapter of The Hunting Rose. Fair warning, I haven't watched any episodes with Rose or John in a while, so if their voices are off, that's why. (yes, Rose is my favorite companion, but her episodes are too painful to watch, her and the Doctor being so obliviously in love when Doomsday's right around the corner. D:)
Anyway, I like how this chapter turned out, and it was fairly easy to write, which is nice after all the frustration I've gotten with TSWS.
In other news, I don't remember if I've mentioned this before, but this weekend I'm in a figure skating show that's made up of a bunch of TV shoe numbers, and one of them is Doctor Who, so long story short, I get to skate as the Eleventh Doctor! :D I'm really, really excited about it.