"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TIME LORD? WHAT IS THIS SUDDEN PAIN IN MY…" Shub Niggurath's squirming voice wailed suddenly from every atom, every quark, every picosecond of time contained within the catacombs.
The golden sword of Lucifer burst through a random point in the wall, with a spray of bone and black fluid portal.
"Castiel! Now would be a good time!" the Doctor screamed, sinking back onto the bones, one hand stuck between his legs, fingers wrapped around his baby's purpled head, keeping her from the bones, from the dark, "banish the Old One while he's distracted!"
Suddenly the golden sword jerked up, as if strong hands had fastened on its gleaming hilt, and Castiel's voice came blowing across the darkness in a penetrating wind.
"Thursday's Child is full of grace, lest you forget," the angel breathed, climbing out of one of the fracturing portal pieces as the Doctor caught his breath on the bone-strewn floor, "Are you all right, uncle Metatron? Is the baby untouched?"
No answer.
Sword raised in stance, Castiel waited, a pained look growing over his face as he stared at the unmoving figure of the Doctor, bloodied and curled up in a ball around his stomach, one hand stretched between his legs, holding the baby's exposed head up from the damning bones.
"I'm going to… touch you in a minute, if you don't hurry up and… seal that damn…uhh."
"Doctor!" the angel cried, dropping the sword and running to the Time Lord, who had started shaking, presumably from the blood loss.
Shub Niggurath's voice boomed from somewhere behind then, gravelly, distant.
"I STILL HAVE ONE OF YOU, TIME LORD. THE ANGEL HAS FAILED. YOU HAVE NOT DEFEAteeeddd meee…"