A/N: Hey everyone! Here's chapter two :) Hope you enjoy, tell me what you think in the reviews! And if you want, check out my other DW fics. Thanks for reading! Love you all.

bad-wolf-and-her-lonely-angel

Pairing: Rose/Ten

Rose Tyler is an artist. At nineteen years old, she is living with her parents, Pete and Jackie, and has a normal life. But in her dreams, in her imagination, she creates incredible things: new worlds, new creatures, new people. She draws these odd characters and places, recreating her fantasies through art. She dreams up a man who she calls her guardian angel, and keeps him alive in her sketches. Little does she know that all of these things she draws, the things she thought were just figments of her wild imagination, are very, very real, and very, very dangerous.

The Paper Angel

Chapter Two

Rose arrived home from her date, leaving Mickey at the door. It was nearly midnight. They had spent the evening sitting in the pub, watching the game that was on. It was fun, yeah, but it took so much for her to act interested, and now she was tired. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep. She slipped off her shoes in the hall and walked into the kitchen. "Mum, dad, I'm home!" she shouted into the house as she grabbed a glass from the cupboard to get some water. She could hear the sound of the television in the next room, but no one answered her. "Hello?" she asked. "Anyone there?"

"Rose? Is that you?" That was her mum's voice, and it sounded concerned. Rose turned off the tap and took a sip of her water before Jackie came hurtling into the room, eyes wide. "Rose!" she shouted, hugging her daughter tight. "Why didn't you answer any of my calls? I thought you were gone, I thought they took you, I was so scared-"

"Mom!" Rose cut her off. "I left my phone here, I just thought if I needed one I could use Mickey's. But what are you going on about? It's not even midnight yet, it's not like I was out later than usual!"

Jackie shook her head. "Come see what they're saying on the telly." She led Rose into the living room, where Pete was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands. Jackie sat next to him while Rose stayed near the doorway and they looked at the television.

It was turned to the news, Rose saw. A young, dark-haired reporter was speaking, her tone serious. "Three more disappearances have been cited by the police, reported earlier this evening, bringing the total number of people missing to 7. So far the investigation as to what is causing these disappearances has been unsuccessful. We are advising all residents of London to be cautious and stay in groups when outside of the house." Jackie was standing now, looking terrified. She tackled Rose in another hug.

"Oh, Rose, I was so worried, I'm so glad you're here…" She went on, almost in tears, still embracing Rose. She just patted Jackie's back, trying to comfort her.

"Mum, I'm fine, really, you can stop crying now." Rose stepped away from her mother's arms. Jackie sniffed and sat back down on the couch, holding Pete's hand. "I'm just going to go to bed, okay? Don't worry; I'm sure the police will have it figured out soon." She tried to sound confident, but she was pretty scared, too. She hoped that whatever was going on would end soon.

Rose wandered off back to her bedroom, glass of water half-empty in her hand. She set it on her bedside table and took her pajamas out of her dresser. Turning towards the bathroom to change, she noticed something odd. On the wall opposite her bed, there was a blank sheet of paper tacked on top of all the other drawings. It was from her sketchpad, too—same paper as the rest of her artwork. That hadn't been there when she left the house earlier in the evening. She called her parents. Of course, Jackie came running, opening the door almost immediately after Rose yelled for her.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Jackie asked, her eyes darting around the room to look for whatever kidnappers or criminals she was expecting, Pete walking up behind her to look as well.

Rose just kept staring at that piece of paper. "Nothing's wrong, mum. Just… did you put that paper on my wall?" She pointed. That wall was the one Rose had dedicated to the creatures of her fantasies. That particular section with the blank sheet had held the pictures of the crying statues, the ones who covered their faces with their hands.

Jackie shook her head. "No, I didn't touch it."

"Dad?" Rose asked, looking to Pete. He shrugged his shoulders. How strange, Rose thought warily. She glanced over to her desk. The unfinished drawing of the guardian angel was still there, her box of charcoals right where she had left it. The window above her bed was still open to where she had left it before, enough to let in air, but not enough to allow a person to climb through. Literally everything else in the room had gone untouched. There was no way that anyone had gotten in to put that piece of paper there. Maybe she had accidentally put it up backwards today when the wind had blown all the drawings off the wall. Yes, that had to be it. She walked to the wall, unpinning the paper and flipping it over. But no, it was blank, except for a thin, black line that stretched diagonally from the top left corner to the bottom right. Definitely not something Rose had drawn. This was too weird.

She turned back to her parents. "I must have pinned it up earlier today and just forgot. Never mind. Good night!" Rose waved her parents off and shut the door behind them. She sat on her bed, the paper in her hands, studying the black line on the back. She rubbed at it, but it did not smear. That was strange. It was completely permanent. She just couldn't understand how it had gotten there. Who would have been able to get inside her house while she was gone? They didn't come through her window, and there was absolutely no possibility that they could have come through the front with Jackie and Pete home all night long. Rose was terrified. She turned and shut the window all the way, locking it for good measure.

Rose took the paper and shoved it deep in a drawer in her desk. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought. After changing into her pajamas, she checked the locks on the window again, as well as her door. No way was anyone getting in here again. Tucked in under the covers, Rose tried desperately to sleep, but found herself lying with her eyes open. Everything about this was all so weird. Seven people from London had gone missing, and then unusual things started appearing in her bedroom. The two weren't connected, obviously, Rose tried to convince herself. That would just be ridiculous. She reached under her pillow to grab the drawing of her and the guardian angel kissing, holding it tight. Deep in thought, her eyes went to the ceiling, watching the papers that were hanging there spin gently the way they always did. She felt herself gradually relaxing, feeling a little bit safer looking at those drawings. Her angel was watching over her, he would keep her safe.

One of the papers that hung over her bed turned towards her, though, and she gasped. Had it been her imagination, or was that sheet blank? She was sure that the drawing of the angel had just vanished. Rose jumped out of bed and flipped the lights on, looking up at the paper. But no, he was still there, standing in his brown pinstriped suit looking thoughtful, exactly the way she had drawn it. She watched it turn for a moment longer, making sure that when it circled around again, he was still there. Skeptically, she shut off the lights and laid back down, her eyes following the motion of the paper. Had she gone completely mental? Thinking these thoughts and watching the angel who was watching over her, Rose slowly drifted off into a restless sleep.

"Rose!" A voice was calling. "Rose, look, over here!" Rose turned to find the angel standing not too far away from her. He was inside the blue box, leaning out and beckoning to her, motioning for her to come to him. She began to run towards him, longing to feel his embrace again like she always did in her dreams. But it seemed no matter how fast she tried to run, she never got any closer. Was he getting farther away? No, he was in the same place, reaching out for her just as much as she was for him. He just kept calling her name, and she kept running. Slowly, he started to fade, his image beginning to disappear until the blue box was completely gone, taking the angel with it.

"Wait!" she screamed, still running. "Come back!" She had no idea where she was. Everything was white—she didn't know if there were walls or a ceiling or even a floor, and if there was, she could not distinguish between any of them. Collapsing, she began to cry, curling up on whatever the surface below her was.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see the angel bent over with his face very, very close to hers. "Rose, listen to me," he spoke in an urgent, hushed tone. "They're coming."

"W-who's coming?" Rose stuttered. None of this made any sense!

He kept going as if he hadn't even heard her question. "They're coming, Rose, and you have to stop them."

Rose was shocked. "Me? But… how? How am I supposed to stop them?"

Again, the angel didn't answer, but just continued as if not hearing her responses. "I'm doing everything I can, but it's up to you, Rose Tyler. You're the only one who can destroy them!"

"I don't know how!" Rose yelled, tears streaming down her face.

"They're already starting to come through. Hurry, Rose. Hurry, before it's too late!" He then grabbed the sides of her face, planting a quick but passionate kiss on her lips, and then he was gone.

His voice lingered, echoing through the room even though he was nowhere to be seen. "Oh, Rose, by the way…"

Rose awoke with a start, panting and sweating, and she sat up in her bed. She looked up and the drawing shehad fallen asleep watching and bit back a scream. The angel was gone. The paper was blank, in fact, except for the long, diagonal line that stretched across the back. Where the picture had been, two words had been hastily written in a messy, cursive scrawl.

Don't blink.