The banging sound was louder today than most days. When the Doctor was separated from his Tardis for long periods of time, he liked to spend hours upon hours climbing all over it, making sure nothing had gotten out of whack. Currently, his top half was buried in the underbelly of the Tardis, with just his lanky blue pants and red trainers splayed out on the floor.

"Doctor, are you about done under there?" asked Martha, leaning against the Tardis console.

"Just a few more whosits that need calibrating. Won't be a tick."

"You've been under there for nearly an hour. I think she's working just fine-"

"Never can be too careful. Would you hand me the spanner…"

"The wha-?"

"Oh, nevermind, I keep forgetting that it got stolen…blast…"

The console behind Martha trilled suddenly, like a ringing phone. She whirled, eyeing a blinking green light and a fizzing monitor.

"What's that?"

There was a clank. The Doctor had smacked his head on part of the Tardis floor. "Oof…it's the communicator. Just turn the orange wheel."

Martha touched the orange dial suspiciously. "So, it's like a video call?"

The console trilled again, and it sounded louder and more impatient than before.

"Oi, answer it before whoever it is gives up."

Martha did as she was told. The monitor whirred and spit static, and the image wavered. Hitting the side, Martha finally gained some clarity.

"Sam!"

"Martha!" Sam Winchester sat clear as day on the monitor in front of her. His face was a little fuzzy, and the sound was a bit off, but it was still him. "Woah…I didn't think this would work."

"Doctor, why is Sam calling us?"

Something clattered and the Doctor muffled a curse in a language Martha didn't know. He had dropped his sonic screwdriver down into the bowels of the Tardis. "Bloody-brilliant, that is," he grumbled, pulling himself up out of the hole and brushing some dust off of his blue jacket. "Oh, is that Sam? I told him to contact us when they were certain the Weeping Angels were out of town." He leaned his head over, catching a glimpse of Sam on the monitor. "All clear then?"

Sam nodded. "Yup…all clear. We trapped the last two—Dean's out now storing them until you can collect them."

The Doctor waved. "Not to worry. We'll make a stop in a bit. Ta! I'm off to find my sonic—talk to Martha." With that, the Doctor once again buried himself into the Tardis engine.

Sam glanced at Martha, smiling in that lopsided way that made her stomach flutter a bit. "Not much for talking right now, is he?"

"Oh, he's just worried about the Tardis. It was only out of his sight for a few weeks, but he's still convinced that something might have—I don't know—messed with it."

"Sounds like Dean with the Impala."

"How is Dean?" Martha took a look at the environment around Sam—it looked like a typical kitchen. Bobby's place, maybe? She had heard Sam and Dean talk about him.

"He's alright. A little sick of aliens that look like angel statues. But I think he secretly likes the challenge." Sam laughed a bit, glancing off screen, like he was checking to see that he was alone. "How…how are you?"

Martha smiled. "I'm fine. A bit out of my element. I don't know anything about the Tardis engines and The Doctor—" she shot a look to the trap door where he had disappeared, "he doesn't seem to remember I'm here most of the time. Just him and his ship."

Sam's brow lowered a bit. "And where are you right now? Am I…am I talking to you across galaxies or something?"

Martha laughed. "More like across time and space, actually. Last I checked, we're about 2,000 years in your future. Not sure why…the Doctor thought it was as good a place to 'park' as any."

He shook his head, running fingers through his hair. "Wow, I'll never get over that. I seriously never would have thought…until, well, until the angels, and the Tardis…"

Martha lowered her eyes, suddenly finding the console very interesting. She wasn't sure why the next words left her mouth. "You should…I don't know, come along sometime." She paused, then looked up. "You and Dean should, I mean. The Doctor would be happy to—"

"What would I be happy to do, Martha Jones?" The Doctor poked his head out of the hold in the floor, proudly displaying his newly retrieved sonic screwdriver and grinning like a madman.

"U-uh, take Sam and Dean along, you know, on a trip. Just one. They've earned it," Martha stammered, leaning nonchalantly on the console again and avoiding Sam's gaze.

The Doctor pondered, staring at his screwdriver and sniffing absently. "Yeah, sure. Alright. One trip, though. I'm not a bloody tour bus, am I?" He winked at her, glancing over at Sam on the screen and grinning again.

Martha broke into a smile and found Sam's eyes. "You hear that? One trip. It'll be great."

Sam's eyes were wide, but there was a fire of adventure sparkling there. And maybe something else. He shook his head, laughing in disbelief.

"I can't wait."