Central Park, 2:34
Sam pushed his long fingers through his dark hair as he walked alongside his brother down a winding path. New York was hot, but the trees provided a blanket of shade to stop him from turning into a sweaty giant – which happened a lot.
Only Sam knew what to expect – after all, according to The Doctor's description, he'd seen a Weeping Angel in his vision. When he said 'they move when you blink', he really meant it – not even an actual angel could move as fast as the thing in the vision.
He remembered seeing the face of Amelia when the subject of Weeping Angels had been brought up – obviously she had handled them before, and it didn't end well. Sam didn't know Amelia – he had no reason to even feel sorry for her in the slightest.
Does Sam have a cruuuush? Well, we know how that ends. The girl dies... or runs off with someone else... oops! She already did!
To his left, the bloody, peeling skin on the face of Lucifer's vessel seemed far more lifelike than in normal hallucinations – but Sam knew it wasn't real; Lucifer was locked up in The Cage. He found himself subconsciously squeezing the faded cut on his hand, only feeling pressure and not pain – but the thought of it made the man haunting him disappear like a spirit struck by iron. The younger Winchester sighed, then heard his brother stop moving,
"You seen anything yet, Sammy?" The older Winchester spoke, interrupting his brother's thoughts. Just in case Dean had missed anything, he took a quick scan around before making eye contact with Sam,
"Nope. Almost like they fled or something," He replied, hiding his shock expertly. After months of seeing the Devil, Sam had learned to suppress his fear when around other people. However, Dean knew his brother extremely well – they'd been hunting together for practically 6 years straight,
"You have that thinking look of yours on," He commented, then placed his hands on his hips, "You thinking 'bout that Amelia chick?" Sam always tended to crush on a girl really hard before actually trying with them – he'd even resist them if he could - Dean was the total opposite. He could flirt and charm and get the lady, but his brother always got the lady and often much more without even doing anything. That was the one thing Dean hated about his brother's way around girls – the rest was boyish and awkward, which made the older Winchester cringe.
Sam's mouth opened and shut, resembling a goldfish. Smiling, his older brother assumed he was right – which in this case, for once, he wasn't,
"Look, I looked at her for like two seconds, Dean –"
"Ah ah ah, not so fast. A crush is a crush, Sammy-boy! But dude, seriously, I think you have a thing for girls called Amelia..." The statement caused Sam to frown, and he began walking down the path once again – sensing this conversation would end up getting awkward. One time, back when the two brothers had started hunting together, Dean had got into a full on conversation that started with female ghosts and ended with his favourite sex position. Ever since, Sam had really hated talking about girls to his brother,
"Uh... Okay. Why?" He replied, purposely sounded uninterested. Unfortunately, Dean never seemed to understand uninterested tones,
"For a start, back when you were a midget you kissed that kitsune called Amelia. Then in high school you dated that Emily girl who was really called Amelia for like, a whole month. Now you see another Amelia – who in all fairness is really damn hot – and you're crushing on her. So you're Amelia-sexual," The older brother grinned as if he'd won an award.
Sam gave a small laugh, "Right. Amelia-sexual," he looked up, and stopped in his tracks.
Hands covering its face, about 20 metres away, stood an angel statue. Sam knew it was a Weeping Angel – it looked exactly the same as the thing he saw his vision; grey and innocent looking, until it wanted to strike. The older Winchester continued walking, muttering something about how to flirt properly, "Wait – Dean,"
Dean stopped, seeing the concerned expression on his brother's face, instantly realising what Sam had seen. Not knowing what to expect, Dean turned to look in the direction of his brother's gaze – seeing a stone angel statue, looking as if it was crying like a child,
"Well that isn't so bad," He commented, then blinked. Of course, as The Doctor said, the angel had moved about 2 metres closer to them. Dean didn't dare to turn away from the angel, keeping his eyes as wide open as he could,
"Call Cas!" Sam ordered, keeping his sea-coloured eyes open too. Already they were stinging from the lack of blinking; his eyelashes filled with moisture,
"Cas... We could do with a hand right now!" The older brother, being closer to the angel, was more likely to get an answer – Cas was wandering around with Meg, and Dean couldn't help but imagine what kind of unholy things they'd be doing.
A flutter behind the two brothers alerted them of Cas' presence, and they both sighed simultaneously with relief. Neither brother turned to face the angel, who had brought Meg along with him,
"Why are you facing the tree?" He asked, then shuddered. An overwhelming rush of energy and a familiar noise turned his insides cold – he had to grab Meg's shoulder to stop himself from toppling over,
"You a little tipsy, Clarence?" The demon, though cold in tone, affectionately put her arm across the angel's front to stop him falling on his face – she, too, could feel something in the air. It was almost like sitting in a room full of dust and inhaling,
"Would one of you lovebirds please just goddamn look at the thing so I can blink!" Dean growled, unaware that the statue was making Cas feel weak. Without replying, Meg lowered the angel so he could sit on the floor and then prepared herself for a stare off,
"You can blink now," She stated, her dark eyes fixed, unblinking, on the statue before her. Dean turned around, seeing his best friend on the floor. He crouched down,
"Dean – they're not just statues... I can hear it talking," The angel croaked, pain clear on his face. Rumbling inside his ears, he could hear the Enochian language pounding, "I think it's –" He coughed, "- I think it's a fallen angel."
/\/\/\/\
The two Ponds walked around the North side of Central Park, meaning to be looking for angel statues – however, it ended up turning into more of a date. Rory was glad to finally be alone with his wife – partly so they wouldn't have The Doctor interrupting them every time they tried to kiss, and also because he couldn't stand that tall nerdy guy staring at her. Often people would stare at Amy – she was undeniably an extremely beautiful woman – but never the way Sam had. As if claiming her, Rory laced his fingers into his wife's, proud to call her his own. He could feel the cool metal of the rings on her finger, binding them together forever.
Amy's reaction was instant – Rory could feel the pressure of her long fingers on the back of his hand. The motion caused him to step a little closer to her as they moved forward, their shoulders brushing against one another,
"I haven't seen any... Maybe they're all gone," Rory began tugging his wife's arm to pull her to stop with him,
"As much as I'd love to think that... Sam did say there were reports," Sam. Rory tried to push down a frown at the thought of him,
"Well, if we do see one, who do we call? The Doctor doesn't have a mobile, last I checked..." Rory trailed off as his wife stepped closer to him. They must have been together for over ten years, yet he could still be left astounded by just a short glance at her face,
"We go back to the TARDIS and get his attention, then." Amy prodded her husband in the chest, then slid her lips over his. A content smile on Rory's lips caused their kiss to end up getting mouthy and awkward, so he backed away,
"I think – I mean, we should save it for later. We're doing –"he planted another kiss on Amy's lips, "Okay. Now I'm stopping – let's go find some angels."
/\/\/\/\
Sherlock was in a foul mood. He'd been dragged out of Hell by an angel, forced to travel around in a Police Box that was logically impossible and was now hunting down statues that seemed to move in the blink of an eye – literally. He sighed dramatically, the bouncy and childish voice of The Doctor getting on his nerves. With a sigh, he decided to break the Time Lord's constant chatter,
"So they move when you blink – how?" He started; shoving his hands in the pockets of the mucky coat he'd been handed,
"Well, I'm not really sure. They just sort of move – I'm not even sure how to kill them. I just know if you make one angel stare at another they can no longer move." The Doctor waved his hands around mightily, annoying Sherlock even more. The Doctor only used grand gestures to seem smarter, Sherlock observed,
"Then why do you bother?" He questioned, a cold look forming on his face. This man before him was not the clever man the detective had assumed he was,
"Bother with what?" The Doctor replied, stopping to face the detective, eyes wide. The Detective could see the creases on his forehead from frowning too much, yet friendly lines by his eyes to make him seem merry. Despite noticing these qualities, all Sherlock could think was he was an inch or two taller than the supposed intergalactic being stood before him,
"Bother with trying to save the people, if in reality you can never really save them." Images of Hell flashed behind Sherlock's iridescent eyes briefly, but he pushed them away. That was in the past, and it would be a smart move if he forgot everything that happened to him in the Pit. He raised his head ever so slightly, hands behind his back.
The Doctor's expression fell, and his version of Hell played in his brain – Rose Tyler at Badwolf Bay, kissing his clone goodbye. Donna not recognising him. Martha leaving. Sarah Jane – Oh, Sarah Jane Smith. The Master dying in his arms, like a wilted plant that had once been mesmerising. River Song dying right before him, before he even knew how important she would be. Stepping away from the man who looked so much like his previous face, he felt a curl of anger in his stomach,
"You know nothing about me, don't you dare say a thing," The Time Lord growled, feeling it was all he could say to the man. He knew the reply was weak, and he would most likely get a snarky remark back – so he began furiously walking once more down 5th Avenue. The gentle tap of Sherlock's converse followed him,
"Okay," He spoke from behind, and then the two remained in silence.
The Doctor could see statues littering New York – yet none took the shape of the angels he was desperate to find. It bothered him incredibly, yet he was not willing to confess that to Sherlock – he knew it was childish to stay mad at him, the detective didn't understand a thing about what had happened.
With that thought, he took a quick glance over his shoulder. However, instead of looking at Sherlock, he saw a familiar face about 20 metres behind the detective... a familiar face from 1969,
"Canton?" The Doctor blurted out. The man – Canton Delaware – didn't hear him. The Time Lord then noticed he was talking to another man; his face looked like it may have been burnt recently. Sherlock creased his eyebrows, his eyes fixed on the two men The Doctor was looking at so intently,
"An old friend, I assume?" He put his hands deep into the pockets of the long, coffee coat – when The Doctor noticed, he remembered he used to do that himself. Feeling he was too easily distracted by this mere gesture of familiarity, he forced himself to look at Canton again. This time, he was alone,
"Canton!" The Time Lord ignored the detective, scurrying up to his old friend – who had heard his name, but seemed to be looking extremely confused,
"Doctor?" Canton whispered – The Doctor could have sworn he sounded British – as the Time Lord approached, straightening his bow tie to smarten up. His old friend wore a solid black suit, similar to when The Doctor had last seen him,
"What on earth are you doing here?" Was the first question to leap from The Doctor's lips – not a greeting, or even an introduction of the detective stood beside him, "Last I saw you it was 1969... You look exactly the same and it's 2012. Discovered immortality, eh?" He teased, punching his old friend lightly in the arm along with a cheeky smirk,
"Nah, Doc, just discovered good ol' time travel, that's all. The bureau discovered things, you know how feds are," Canton drawled, seemingly pleased to see The Doctor. Sherlock frowned, having been examining the man as he spoke,
"Your accent is fake," The Detective stated, hands still deep in his pockets. Unaffected by the comment, Canton lifted his head,
"Right. And so's yours – what's your name?" Canton made eye contact with Sherlock, then put his hand out to greet him,
"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. I don't want to shake your hand, thank you," The icy gaze of the detective didn't move from Canton's eyes once, who faltered at the unexpected attitude,
"No need to act like that, Sherlock. Canton's good! He can help us on our angel hunt – I'm assuming that's why you're here," The Doctor scowled briefly at Sherlock before smiling once more at his old friend,
"Angel hunt?" Once again, Canton seemed confused, which puzzled The Doctor, "You've discovered angels now? I didn't think that was your thing, Doc..."
"Well – I meant Weeping Angels – but yes, I have discovered actual angels. One actually warned me of them being here – wait. How do you know about angels? I've been alive for – you know what, I give up. Everyone seems to know about angels, demons, the lot. All I know is alien," The Doctor rambled between Sherlock and Canton, waving his hands again. Sherlock latched his fingers around the wrist of the Time Lord,
"Shut up. We get it. Now, Canton, how do you know about angels? That isn't something FBI agents are meant to have knowledge of. Also, would you just speak in your regular accent – the fake American is typical and extremely annoying. You're lowering the little amount of patience I have," Sherlock pushed himself towards Canton, leaving The Doctor more annoyed than he already was. Canton shuffled his feet, much shorter than the intimidating detective with a gaze like knives. However, Canton was certainly not one to show weakness to these kinds of things,
"I know because I know. What angel warned you of the Weeping kind?" He turned to face The Doctor, who seemed happy to answer,
"He's called Castiel, he's currently with his demon girlfriend and probably the other two lads with us – they're called Sam and Dean Winchester. Rather strange, but excellent so far nonetheless."
Canton inwardly raged – feeling his true form bubble inside his vessel. It took him a lot of effort not to show any emotion towards The Doctor's reply. It also angered him how an ally of his from many years ago had betrayed him – It didn't matter whether it was unknowingly or not – to the two pests and their bitches, who annoyed him most,
"I'd rather like to meet your new friends and tag along, if that's alright with you."
/\/\/\/\/\
Walking around Central Park with Rory was pleasant, but nothing more. Amy liked how her husband was trying so hard, how he loved her so much. She liked kissing him softly and sometimes passionately, then lying with him at night in their bed, intertwined like a cobweb. She liked her life, but not how she used to.
For a long time, Amy had felt a continual feeling of just the same – she was an adventurous girl at heart, and was seeking change. Rory, The Doctor and aliens were beginning to become too familiar to her.
Amy could feel Rory's gaze on her, but she didn't want to look – in all honesty, she wanted to stay with the strangers who had joined their trip – particularly Sherlock and Sam. The detective was so similar to The Doctor in such a strange way; it fascinated her – left her wanting to know more about the man. Sam, on the other hand... He managed to look so childish and innocent while having an air of power, along with being much taller than her. Most boys, including Rory and The Doctor, were near enough her height. Also, Sam seemed to have a particular interest in her – not just because of how she looked, but because of her name. The only other person to ever show interest in her name was The Doctor – "Like a name in a fairytale."
Rory and Amy did not speak as they walked down another path of Central Park; fingers interlocked loosely, their attention on things that weren't the other. Amy loved Rory, she really did, but now she felt a sense of... drifting. Is this what happened to couples who had known each other for so long? Amy and Rory were now 28 – they had been tied together romantically for over ten years. She felt, perhaps... No. She didn't want to think of what it would do to Rory.
Attention on the path at last, Amy saw three familiar people a dozen or so metres away – the angel Castiel lay on the floor, coughing and groaning, Sam crouched down next to him. Meg, the demon who Amy hadn't spoken to yet, was staring down... A Weeping Angel,
"You stare at the angel, I'll see what's wrong with Castiel," Amy ordered, not looking at Rory – she couldn't, it made her feel guilty, and she launched down the path.
Stopping abruptly, she fell next to Sam – who seemed surprised to see her so close. His eyes widened, resembling those of a puppy, and it made Amy want to smile,
"What happened to him?" She asked, breaking eye contact. She hadn't spoken to Sam yet, yet already got the feeling he was a nice guy,
"He says he can hear the angel talking... in Enochian, basically angel language. It's hurting him somehow... I mean, it could be a spell or something." Amy liked how smooth his accent was, and how he knew things she had never heard of before. Suddenly feeling awkward, Amy wasn't entirely sure how to reply,
"Well... One day you're gonna have to teach me how that sounds... And I'll teach you alien. Sound good?" She grinned, then heard a chuckle from behind her,
"Amelia, I see you found my brother... Sammy likes the name Amelia, you know," Dean held a couple water bottles along with an amulet, a cross hanging from it, "Cas, I got the holy water," He pulled the top off a bottle, and bobbed down next to Amy,
"That's... Lovely. Call me Amy though," She looked curiously at the holy water – obviously she'd heard of it, but never thought it was real,
"Amy Pond, huh?" Sam was looking down at Cas, purposely avoiding looking Amy in the eye. He had noticed her eyes were those hazel ones that changed in the light from murky green to a chocolate brown – her eyeliner made them look bolder and wider. He paused before saying what he wanted to say – then decided he may as well give it a shot. He looked up at her, a small smile ghosting his lips: "Cute name."
With a nod, Amy looked at the tall man next to her, "That's a new one. Normally I get fairytale," She turned to Dean, "What exactly does the holy water do?" Amy wanted to stop... flirting with another man. It made her feel worse about Rory. Unfortunately, Dean was grinning mischievously as she looked at him,
"Well... Amy, it's basically purifying, and Cas is saying these energies are very bad for angels. I didn't know this before today; normally holy water is used on demons since they hate the stuff. Literally crash and burn," Dean watched as the angel beneath him sipped the liquid, until eventually half the bottle was gone. Cas sat up, still looking slightly pained,
"I think I can destroy it," He held the half empty bottle, looking at it intently before glugging down the contents, "Give me another," Cas outstretched his hand towards Dean,
"The Doctor says they can't be destroyed though," Amy's eyebrows creased, certain that her raggedy man knew everything about these beings. He'd faced them before he'd even met Amy, before he'd even had the face The Doctor had now.
Cas turned to look at Amy, holding a full bottle in his hand,
"The Doctor never knew what they truly were," He said, then began chugging down the bottle with loud gulps. Dean sighed,
"Cas, you'll be sick if you drink that quickly," He sounded more friendly then fatherly with the comment, which would normally be associated with family advice. Amy hadn't quite figured out the relationships of these new people, and it intrigued her. She had never had siblings, neither had Rory – so this was all new to her, along with the fact she'd never known any angels either. However, The Doctor was probably something similar – being a "Lord of Time" and all that.
Cas finished the bottle, then stood up – seeming to be perfectly fine. Sam, who had been silently looking at Amy – then feeling bad about it – stood up also. Amy hopped to her feet with them, but lost her step,
"Woah there –" Sam grabbed her back, preventing her from falling on his brother. Dean smirked as his younger brother looked up at him, then hurriedly moved his hand towards his hair, pushing it back,
"Thanks, Sam," Amy replied, finding it satisfying that she could look up to him instead of straight ahead. Once again, she felt bad, so forced herself to walk towards Rory.
He had been talking to Meg, both faced towards the Weeping Angel, obviously taking turns blinking. Rory looked annoyed – at Amy, most likely. She opened her mouth, but was interrupted by the churning noise of the TARDIS materialising.
A hollow "bong" alerted everyone of the TARDIS's presence, and the door screeched open. Sherlock walked out first, looking rather moody with his hands deep in his pockets. He stopped awkwardly beside Amy, who gave him a friendly smile even though he didn't even bother to look at her,
"Canton, meet the gang! You already know Amy and Rory, obviously!" The Doctor leapt out of the TARDIS merrily, talking to someone who was still inside. Amy remembered Canton well, and grinned.
Canton stepped out of the TARDIS slowly, a smile on his face that looked far too sinister to be friendly. Confused, Amy took a step forward – noticing Canton's gaze was set on Sam, Dean, Meg and Castiel,
"Hello boys. I see you brought your pets!" He laughed, his accent British – Sherlock cleared his throat,
"I did tell you it was fake," He mumbled, "You should probably listen to me, I knew something was off!" He shot at The Doctor. Amy turned to the two brothers, confused. She saw Sam and Dean's expressions – they looked really pissed off,
"Canton..." The Doctor started, his voice serious,
"It's Crowley. You betrayed me, Doctor, and I don't like traitors! You're working with those bloody Winchester's who do nothing but meddle where they shouldn't!" He yelled, then swiped his hand – The Doctor went flying like a food wrapper being carelessly tossed over a shoulder, causing Amy to shriek in terror as her best friend thudded on the grass over ten metres away from where he originally stood, a groan escaped from his lips,
"Doctor!"
"Amy!" Both Rory and Sam cried her name as she yelled for her friend, causing the red head to stop. Canton – Crowley – gasped in mock-surprise, edging closer to Amy,
"Bit of a player, Moose? Or has Amy switched from Centurion to Hunter?" He grinned wickedly, his eyes fleeting across from the Winchester's towards Sherlock, "How's the lone wolf of the pack? I can still see Hell's fire in your eyes, boy." Crowley flipped his fingers again, sending Sherlock flying just as he had with The Doctor. Amy's eyes wandered after him, but she didn't dare move in case Crowley did the same to her, "You weren't supposed to get out of that one. Guess it was your idiot angel buddy, correct?"
Amy, reminded by Crowley, peered to look at the Weeping Angel , who strangely hadn't moved even though nobody had been looking at it. The thought caused her heart to pump faster – had Cas stopped it, or was it Crowley?
"Sending innocent souls to Hell isn't allowed, Crowley," Cas, with a flutter, appeared in front of Amy, causing her to yelp in her panic. A metallic sound echoed in her ears, and it took Amy a minute to realise Cas had a silver blade in his hand – shimmering in the afternoon sun hauntingly,
"Did I break some rules? Oops," Crowley taunted, then took a step towards Castiel, "I hope you still remember our agreement we had -"
"Shut up, you ass." Cas swung his blade forward rapidly, expecting to slash the man in the dark suit, but instead waved his blade stupidly through thin air,
"Ass? I am willing to accept that." Crowley's voice echoed from the direction of the Weeping Angel, who was now stood up straight and smiling like a freaky, porcelain doll. Cas squinted and turned his head,
"What do you want, Crowley?" He rasped, blade firmly in hand.
Amy side stepped towards Rory, the distance between them short, feeling it was the right moment as Crowley's attention was not on her. Her husband stared at her, eyes wide and worried for his wife,
"Not so fast," Crowley appeared behind Amy, Weeping Angel at his side, "Since you appear to be... The girl everyone wants..." He peered towards Sam, winked, then tapped the shoulder of the angel beside him, "This one's on you, Moose." Too quickly for anyone to see, it threw its stony hand forward and touched Amy's shoulder – causing her to disappear,
"Amy!" Rory screamed, leaping forward – but Amy, Crowley and the Weeping Angel were gone. The older Winchester cursed under his breath; meanwhile the younger darted towards Rory,
"Rory – we'll get her back. Don't be angry, please, we're gonna get her –" He said firmly, but Rory was too stunned to notice. Slowly, he glanced up at Sam, feeling rage boil inside him,
"You did that," He mumbled, slightly awed. Sam edged backwards, his brother stepping towards him. Meg and Cas had both run to the two men who had been flung,
"Get up, Cheekbones. No time for naps," Could be heard between, "You did that to my wife!" as Dean stepped towards his brother and Rory,
"Hey! Calm it, would you? Losing your crap over this won't solve anything!" Dean bellowed, which angered Rory even more. Hesitating momentarily, he pounded a punch right into Sam's face, causing him to almost topple on to his brother with a loud grunt. Another smack cracked Sam's lip, which was enough for Dean – he pounced at Rory, falling to the floor on top of him. Dean held the scrawny man down, who flailed like a drying up fish beneath him,
"Stop fighting!" Castiel appeared beside the older Winchester and the smaller man, yanking Dean away by his jacket. He stared into his best friend's eyes furiously, before turning to see Meg and Sherlock walk over. The Doctor was heaving himself towards them too,
"I need to get her back –" Rory started, but was shushed by the angel,
"We need to find out how, first. I feel like she's been sent –"
"She's been sent back in time, you idiot! Just shut up, we need to get her! Doctor, find her with the TARDIS, come on!" The former Centurion cried, anger and sadness clear in his eyes. The Doctor shook his head,
"I have no idea what time she's in, Rory..." the Time Lord mumbled, "Even if we looked, the chances would be one in a billion."
Sam wiped his lip, his brow furrowed, and spoke up, "The only way to get her would be through Crowley, that's how he works. God – why did you let him in? Sherlock said he seemed shifty!", Sam barked at The Doctor, annoyed.
"Sam, he was my friend." He replied, cocking his head to make eye contact with the Winchester, "Friends don't tend to betray me like that –"
"Shut up, guys. I'm a demon, I'll do my thing. Now get your balls on and suck it up, alright? Jesus," Meg snapped, marching off down the path. After glimpsing at Dean briefly, Cas followed her.
Rory gave a heated stare to Sam, then stomped towards the TARDIS – feeling unreal and physically sick over the disappearance of his wife. The younger Winchester scowled back, licking his split lip,
"Doctor, I know a way to get her back... But it's dumb. A demon deal, but we could rig it somehow -"
"Sam, no. We are not doing that ever, okay? Maybe Cas can find her."
Rory stopped, hearing what Sam had said – maybe he wasn't entirely worthless and irritating after all.