Act One of our four part finale.

Please enjoy.

Brandishing his torch like a knight's lance, Omar was storming down the west corridor of the Natural History Museum, practically slicing through a tittering gaggle of school-children as they made their way into the geology section.

He offered their teacher an apologetic head tilt as he darted through the crowd, his eyes skimming the tinsel-lined walls for a "Staff Only" door.
"Why is it?" he wondered under his breath. "That as soon as they put up the goddamn Christmas decorations the entire place looks completely bloody different? Turns into a right labyrinth with fairy lights!"

Having finally located a door, Omar ducked quickly inside, only to be confronted by a very ruffled-looking Edmund Potter.
Well, from what Omar could see of him anyway; the man's face was, for the most part, obscured by a stack of overstuffed folders.

The rumours were true, it would seem.
The bulk of the late Ernst Hewitt's work had been left for his already-overtaxed assistant to continue. As always, promotion came at a price.

Strangely enough, the security guard actually hadn't spoken to Edmund properly since the memorial event for what the Sun had not-so-sensitively termed "The Great Museum Mystery."
Within about two weeks of Ernst Hewitt's disappearance being reported, almost twelve other people had vanished from the streets of London- their only common denominator being that they had visited the museum just beforehand.
It hadn't helped matters that the security cameras were on the blink and that the staff were slowly falling into paranoia.

Then Cassidy Albright- one of the apprentice restoration archaeologists- effectively went AWOL for two full days and the entire cohort of the London Museum of Natural History held their breaths and said their prayers.
A tsunami of relief crashed over the Museum and all of its occupants when Stanford finally confirmed that Cassidy's cousin had met her at the hospital, coming to visit her terminally ill mother.

Cystic fibrosis had taken the poor woman's life that afternoon and in the evening time, a shocking revelation was made: a man already facing a prison sentence for the murder of two people in Yorkshire had confessed to killing all fourteen of the people who had vanished from the museum.
The police had yet to find any bodies and while further sighs of relief were breathed that the man had been caught, lots of things didn't add up to Omar.
Little things about what he had been told didn't make sense.
The truth appeared to be splintered with cracks of hyperbole and lies.

He kept tight-lipped about it though- especially during the memorial ceremony hosted by the museum. Cassidy Albright was the only member of staff who was excused from attending due to needing personal time off.
During a string of "prayers of the faithful", Omar took the opportunity to turn to Edmund to question him about her absence. After all, it was common knowledge amongst staff that Edmund and Cassidy worked quite closely together.

"Oi, Ed," he whispered, his lips barely moving. "Where's Cass? She's not been in work lately? Is she sick or something? I thought she'd be here…for Louisa…y'know?"

The archaeologist shook his head. "No…it's her Mum who's sick." The man shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "Basically, she's not got much time left."

"…cancer?"

"Cystic fibrosis in its latest stages."

"Ah."

A few prayers later, Omar spoke again.
"D'you think maybe we should get some of her mates together? Y'know…Raz, Leon, Alexia…? Maybe go visit her and see how's she doing?"

"Honestly? No," Edmund replied in a quick mutter, keeping his voice as low as possible. "Cassidy likes to be alone for things like this…it's just how she operates…if she needs help she'll ask for it but aside from that, you're better off leaving her work things out in her own time…" He turned his head slightly to acknowledge the other man with a half-smile. "It's a nice thought though…she'd appreciate it…"

Omar returned the slight smile. "I probably should have guessed she was the independent sort just watching her work…I mean the amount of time she put into that statue…"

That fucking statue.

As if the disappearances weren't unsettling enough, the museum had suffered a string of reports that one of their newly unearthed "statues" was haunted with people reporting that it could move on its own.
Normally, he would have chucked it up to the usual hysteria surrounding new exhibits but the statue's coming coincided quite evenly with the cameras going odd and the disappearances of museum patrons.

The rumours of it being haunted didn't do anything to keep Cassidy away.
She had spent countless breaks and lunch times cleaning it and refining it and apparently had gotten quite snappy with a number of people who had come within touching distance of it without her immediate permission.
People had joked about her being obsessed with it.

Then the statue disappeared and the jokes abruptly stopped.
Murmurs of a plot replaced them.
Then the statue resurfaced.
Then it vanished again.
Then it reappeared.
The police still had absolutely no leads and even their best detectives were baffled by the situation.

Eventually Stanford had gotten tired of the affair- particularly the bad press- and had put the thing up for auction.

Omar couldn't help but feel a bit taken aback by the fact that he was the only member of staff who seemed to have noticed a distinct connection between the disturbing happenings and the statue's initial arrival.

Edmund looked quite a bit different now as to how he did when Omar had met him at the memorial. A rather sombre, solemn pallor had been replaced with a flushed complexion and an owlish expression behind the numerous ring-binders.
"Oh…Omar. What brings you to my neck of the…er…woods?" He shifted awkwardly, trying and somewhat failing to shrug the books to a more amicable position.

Omar picked up one of the volumes, kindly offering to lessen the load as he spoke. "Just looking for whoever's in charge of public relations for the Christmas season. I've a crowd control concern to report."

Edmund made the face of a man carrying more than just a physical burden, looking as though he desperately wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'm afraid you're looking at him. What's the rub?"

"Well, number one, skaters from the ice rink outside are starting to trickle in here to use the toilets. Not so much of a problem until you consider the overflow with the queues. The guides have been sending the excesses upstairs to the second floor toilets to stop the current masses from blocking the doors but now we've got people wandering around the Museum without having paid admission…"

"…and it's not feasible to check everyone individually," Edmund concluded with a nod and a slight sigh. "Right, I'll put out a message on the PA and call in some of the others off their lunchbreak. Surely if we got some of the guides to help you lot, it would lessen the load? What's the other thing? Because I'm assuming there's another thing."

"Nothing all that major," the guard shrugged. "It's just that we've gotten two separate phone-calls from Abigail Drake's school…"

"Abigail Drake?"

"Yeah, Leon's little sister. Apparently, she hasn't turned up for school today and they've been trying to get in contact with Leon all day…"

"So…what? You want me to put a PA message out for him too?"

"No, that's just it. Wouldn't do any good. He never showed up for work today. Never clocked in. No sign of him."

Edmund just about dropped his folders at this revelation.
Having an employee take a day off work with no explanation was a rare occurrence but it wasn't unheard of.
But to have Leon Drake…Leon "the Perfect Goody-Goody Golden" Drake…pull an unannounced sickie was on par with a biblical miracle.

"I'll look into that too," Edmund assured his colleague, giving him a grateful bow of the head as he took back the weighty folder. "No worries."

Omar nodded in return, about to leave when suddenly he whipped back around. "Ah, one more thing. Is Cass in today?"

"Er…no, she's off until Thursday."

"Oh. Any idea if she plans on taking on that course in Ireland for her doctorate?"

"With Rosenstock? I've honestly no idea…why?"

"I've got Cassidy for Secret Santa. Was thinking of getting her like a little something for journey- like something cheesy and touristy, y'know? To remind her of home? Or maybe travel plugs…I dunno."

"There's always cosmetics. Perfume and such?" Edmund suggested. "Makes for a good gift regardless of whether she's staying in the country or not."

Omar spluttered with laughter, shaking his head. "What?! Buy her perfume? For Secret Santa? I dunno what's worse- the fact that I'll look like a right tosser for spending that amount of dosh on a Secret Santa present or the fact that I'll look as if I'm trying to come on to her via Secret Santa present? How sad is that?" He took a moment to compose himself. "Good one though, Ed. As always, your sense of humour proves that you're the staff dark-horse. I'll talk to you at lunch…"

No sooner had Omar left did Edmund suddenly feel quite worried.
Worried for a number of things.
Mainly for the fact that Leon appeared to have evaporated.
But also for the fact that the top right drawer of his desk was home to a rather expensive bottle of J'adore that he'd bought for Alexia.

As he made his way back down the corridor, he silently wondered if Boots did full refunds or not.

"I'm not going to ever be able to take a short shower again, am I?" Cassidy murmured sleepily, smirking to herself as she rolled on to her stomach.

"Not as long as I am near," Michael responded with an audible grin, sifting his fingers through her hair.

Poised like a proud lioness amongst the rustled, skewed, damp sheets, the nude human reclined beneath the Archangel's outstretched wing.
Her memories of the last hour were admittedly hazy.

She could recall vivid moments of his hands on her hips, on her neck, on her shoulders...

"I'm never going to enjoy the feeling of complete cleanliness again," she said with a grimace in her voice but a smirk on her lips, burying her face into the clumped sheets. Suddenly she felt something wet and slightly rough, dragging across the back of her neck causing her to squeal loudly. Michael was licking her. "Ah! Enough of that!" She shrieked, brushing away at him.

"Why? I am merely cleaning you. Is this not what you want?" he crooned, giving her a light nip on the shoulder and eliciting further petulant swats.

"If I wanted something, I'd ask for it!" she continued to squeal, curling up slightly, her knees pulling to her chest.

The Archangel desisted, stretching his wing a little further over her body.
"Hmm…well, we know you have no problem with asking for what you want…"

"Cheeky…"
Cassidy's face turned to puce and resisting the urge to immediately open her eyes, she reached out towards the Archangel's torso.
He obligingly took a hold of her hand and guided it to touch his face.
Her fingers lightly skimmed over his lips and cheeks; she enjoyed her exploration of his body but from time to time, the structure of his face seemed to alter- the sizes of his features changing beneath her touch.

He wrapped his arm around her waist to coax her closer to him, his shoulders and torso dwarfing her smaller frame as always.
She thoughtfully traced one of his pectoral muscles, her fingertips acting as her eyes. "You're such a giant…and River Song said you're going to get bigger…?"

"River Song?" Michael's hand suddenly gripped her wrist. "The human who threatened you with the intent to trap me?"
Cassidy's breath stilled for a second but her voice was breezy as she replied. "Yes…her…the woman that I had never met prior to that day nor have I met since…"

Lying meant nothing to her now.
Why should it?
She had lied so many times before, it came easy to her.

His grip on her wrist immediately slackened, his lips lightly tracing the area where his hand had held and his tongue dotting over her skin.
Almost apologetically.
Almost.
"Yes, to answer your query," he murmured. "My body shall eventually grow larger, as I reach my later years. Will yours not do the same?"

Cassidy pulled a face, stretching out her back and sighing. "No. I think I've hit my peak…I'll get wrinkly all right but not any bigger." She took her hand from his hold, folding both arms over her chest. "I'm doomed to being a hobbit for life…"

Michael laughed faintly, his human voice, punctuated, as always by a strange alien whistling emanating from his upper chest. "I do not know what a hobbit is but rest assured, I shall be ever-protective of you- even with my increased size."

"Huh, thanks," Cassidy chuckled, giving him a poke in what she thought was the stomach and realised was his arm. Her laughter turned to a small, forlorn sigh.
Despite the haze of ecstasy that she currently enjoyed, Michael was still speaking as though they both had a long future together.

Their staying in close quarters in the near future hadn't crossed her mind yet, let alone the distant future.
And either of them having a future at all- together or apart- was still uncertain with the vendetta that Michael's tribe had launched against them.
A vendetta that was more than likely going to intensify if their hatred of humankind was to be believed and she and the Archangel's previous relations were made known to them…

"Do you really mean that?" she asked him, briefly opening her eyes to look up at him and consequently shuddering as the soft feathers that grazed her skin turned to cut rock. "That you'll always protect me?"

"As long as I can guarantee your protection of me in return," he replied and she saw that his now stone face was smiling.

She found herself smiling back up at him. "Deal."

It wasn't long before words of flirtation turned to words of strategy as Cassidy eventually managed to drag herself up from the bed.
The heating still wasn't on so her immediate first mission was to find some form of clothing.
While rummaging through her wardrobe for a jumper, she continued her interrogation.

"I can't believe that this has only dawned on me but we're essentially sitting ducks here, aren't we? Like, your lot know where we are and somehow they knew that you weren't dead when they'd supposedly killed you…so I guess the same will go for me…so how do we know they're not like, right outside, right now?"

"I would know if one of my kind were coming via our psychic link. That would at least give you and I some time to prepare forms of assault or defence."

"Yeah but that psychic link isn't perfect, is it? You didn't sense that Karida was in the church and she couldn't have been more than a few metres away."

"Karida invoked a Veil. It is a type of camouflage used during hunting to mask the presence of an Angel from other prey or predators that may also have telepathic abilities."

"I see…so…so couldn't you even temporarily mask us from the other Angels?"

"Only female Angels have the gift of the Veil. However, it does require immense concentration so the slightest of distractions can break it. Karida lost her concentration during her tryst with you, hence why I was able to locate you both."

"So distractions can help to break the Veil! Ok! That's good! That's progress! So if we want to break the Veil, we just have to cause a distraction…of course, that would require us to know in advance that the Angels were coming and that they planned to use a Veil…and that in turn would require us to break the initial Veil that prevented us from knowing that they were coming in the first place…which would be a little implausible…which brings us…back to square one…hmph…"

She ran a towel over her head, wringing out her hair and using it as an opportunity to furiously rub at her temples. "As if I didn't have enough to worry about already…two exhibits unfinished during Christmas season…haven't picked out a present for Nancy yet…and oh yes, to top it all off, I'm currently trying to fight super-powered time-travelling aliens…"

For the first time in the midst of this conflict, Cassidy's mind fell upon the Doctor and what he could possibly contribute. After all, he had managed to kill a significant group of Weeping Angels before and from what he had told her, he was no stranger to fighting them.
However, there were two distinct issues with this course of action.
For one thing, Cassidy had no idea how to summon the Doctor and/or Clara Oswald. The two simply seemed to show up quite randomly, whenever she was in peril. The same could be said for Professor River Song too- the only other person who seemed to know anything about the Angels.
The other problem was that there was no way she would be able to feasibly convince Michael to work with any of them. If the mere mention of River's name sent him into a state of rage, there was no telling what summoning any of them here would do.
Plus, there was no way she could ever convince the Doctor to work with Michael.
If their conversation in the TARDIS following Summer Bank had been any indication of his feelings towards them, the Doctor was not now nor was he ever prepared to be lenient with them.

"Doctor, do you mind if I ask you something?" she had said, timidly sipping at the tea he had brought her and shuddering beneath the trench coat around her shoulders.
"Was that the question or is there going to be another one?" he had returned, eyes glinting as he tilted his head at her in the manner of an untrained Labrador puppy.
"Another one," she told him, unable to conceal a small smile despite her state of shock.
"Oh…go on then…I suppose it's your first time on the TARDIS, I may as well give you the full welcome package…interview with the Doctor included…"

"Why do the Angels want to hurt people?" she had asked him. "Like…I understand that we provide a food source for them but…in that hotel…I saw them kill people…for fun…and sometimes, the things Michael would do...I'd just be this kind of source of entertainment for him…why do they do it? Did humans do some kind of terrible wrong to them?"

The Doctor leaned back in his seat, silent for a moment as he crossed and uncrossed his legs before finally saying, (in a voice that was a trifle more sombre than it had been before): "Cassidy, please, please, please take two things away from this if nothing else." He sat forward. "You are not to blame for anything that the Archangel or any of them did to you or made you do. Neither you nor any member of the human race did anything wrong to them…they're just evil…" The man pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "Please understand, that in my line of work I come across so many different, wonderful, strange, bewildering, bedazzling species of alien every day…and I very rarely, even after seeing any of the atrocities that they are capable of, will deem an entire species to be down on that level of cruelty…but the Angels are an exception…an exceptional exception…" He looked at her. "Remember that they don't think the way we do. The way most species do. They don't understand compassion, empathy, mercy…all they think about is power and how to somehow attain it…" He swallowed, sitting forward slightly. "And…it truly pains part of me to say it but…no good could ever come from them…"

At the time, Cassidy was more than prepared to take his words as Gospel but now, after her own experiences, it seemed that the Doctor's judgement of the Angels could have been inaccurate.
Or maybe her own was.

Cassidy chewed the inside of her mouth and tried to banish that thought to the furthest corner of her mind but to little avail. For the first time in a long time, Michael's movement behind her back began to unnerve her.
As soon as she had the watch device that River had given her firmly tied around her wrist, (noting that it was quite a bit heavier than she might of instantly thought), she turned around- locking him into stone where he was standing.

"Are you alright, Cassidy?" his stolen human voice asked her.

Wordlessly, she walked over to him, closing her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his torso. After a few seconds, his arms encircled her, one of his hands coming to gently stroke her head.

"You are troubled and burdened," he observed in a quieter tone, tracing her face. "And I dislike knowing that this is because you worry for me…"

"Don't ever hurt me again!" she suddenly all but shouted into his chest, squeezing him tighter. "Don't you dare ever hurt me again…don't lie to me…don't say that this is all a lie…just don't!"

"I will not."

"How…how can I trust you?"

"Cassidy, you and I have mated…that inherently means that-…"

"You've mated with other Angels before!" she spat, feeling a kind of strained fury that she hadn't realised had existed within her. "How is this any different!?"

"Little bird," he chided her with a sigh, suddenly lifting a finger under her chin and coaxing her to look up at him. His expression was frozen into one that was silently intense. Though he had no pupils, she could tell he was looking straight down at her. "It is true that I have copulated with others of my kind before…but it is you that I have chosen to mate with...thus I am inherently bound to protect you…and to prove to myself that I am not my sire, this includes a vow never to knowingly put you in pain…you are everything to me…I do not know how many times and how many different ways I can express this further…"

Cassidy's eyes closed once more and returned her head to his chest, her voice lowered to a bare whisper as she dared herself to say: "Michael…do you mind if I ask you something?"

"No. Please continue."

"…d'you…" She steadied herself, taking a breath that reached the very pit of her lungs. "Do…you…? Do you…?" Her hand ran up to the centre of his chest and she shivered slightly when she felt his wings lift to encircle her. "Michael…do you…?"

"Do I…?" he began to coax her, his face nearing hers.

Just as Cassidy opened her mouth to respond, a loud resounding rattle came from downstairs.
It sounded as though someone was knocking on the front door.

Michael immediately released her, his body turning to stone as she looked up at him.
They shared the same expression of apprehensive confusion.

"Stay here," she told him, making her way on to the landing.
"No," he told her right back, following close behind. "I intend on keeping watch…"

Rolling her eyes, Cassidy slowly made her way down the stairs, inching down the steps as she muttered. "Stay on the landing at the very least…"

The door rocked slightly in its hinges once more as someone rattled the knocker for the second time.

She contemplated calling out but decided quickly that she did want to betray her presence immediately to whoever was out there. Through the frosted glass, she could just about make out the hoary outline of what appeared to be a human being.
A moving human being.

Breathing a slight sigh of relief, Cassidy clicked the chain across the crack of the door and called out: "Yeah, who is it?"

"Post," came back the immediate response. "Got a package that won't go through the letterbox, lovie."

Cassidy's slight sigh of relief became a full blown exhale as she fully unlocked the door to reveal a rather disgruntled postman, cradling quite a large oblong object. "Sorry about the delay there…it's just there's been some dodgy types around the place lately. Come inside."

"S'alright," the postman reassured her as she relieved him of his burden. "I know the feeling. The Christmas season practically lures them out like rats."

Fumbling with her purse, Cassidy quickly realised that she didn't have anywhere near enough change to cover the delivery charge. "Hang on a second, I've more cash in the kitchen…step in a bit more, if you'd like…it's cold out…"

"Ta, lovie. It's a busy time of year and the worst of the blooming weather too."

After a bit more rustling around through drawers, she managed to fish out her desired four pounds, seventy pence and got back to the postman as hastily as she could manage.

"Here, got the exact for you."

"Perfect. Right, now all I need is a quick signature from you," he said, presenting an electronic clipboard to her. "And everything will be-…"

As though by evaporation, the postman's body suddenly dissolved into thin air, the electronic clipboard clattering to the floor at her feet.
Cassidy could only stare in horror.

Now standing in the shadow of where the postman had stood was a Weeping Angel, her gnarled hands outstretched and her expression frozen into a contorted look of rage and disgust.
For the first time, Cassidy considered how terrifying it would be to see that expression move.

She immediately locked her eyes on to its chest, trying to summon her voice to shout.

It was three o' clock in the evening but the sky outside was already turning dark and shadows stretched all over the house. Without taking her eyes from the Angel, Cassidy reached over to a nearby wall and flicked the light-switch.

Nothing happened.
The power was gone.

Her mind was suddenly racing.
How had this Angel gotten in? Were there any more of them? Was this one of Michael's Tribe?

Her mind drained to the point of blankness when she suddenly heard an ear-splitting roar from upstairs and every question from before was replaced with one single thought and one single objective.
Michael. Get to Michael.

She called his name aloud, gingerly edging her way around the Angel at her fore to the door of the kitchen. However her panic made her less than graceful and she stumbled over threshold. In her brief moment of blindness, the Angel turned to face her- now joined by two more stone seraphs.

Her voice was close to screaming now as she pressed her back to the wall of the hallway. There was literally nowhere to look. No sooner had she taken her eyes from one Angel, another one would advance- each one of them just out of her line of sight.

Another roar sounded from upstairs and Cassidy's nerves took another battering. Heart slowly climbing up her throat, she continued to glance between each Angel.
Instinctively, she tried her hardest to steady her breath, trying to use some form of logic.
They were all getting closer and closer to her with each turn of her head but eventually, if they all got close enough to her, they would all be in her frame of vision at the same time. This in turn, would mean that she could keep her eyes on all three.

In the meantime, she just had to keep herself flat against the wall, away from their outstretched arms and give equal glances to each to ensure that none of the unholy trinity got enough of her blind-side to touch her.
It was like playing Grandmother's Footsteps with her life in the balance.

Her patience soon paid off and the three Angels were in her direct line of sight.
Knowing she had no time to lose, she dropped to her haunches and crawled out from between them- keeping her eyes on their stony hides.

However, when she reached the foot of the staircase, there were already at least ten more Weeping Angels on the staircase waiting for her.

She accidentally made eye contact with one, a painful pressure suddenly rising in her temples and forcing her to blink. When her eyes opened once more, one of the Angels was directly at her fore- claws only a breath away from her face.
And restraining the Angel- separating the human woman from her demise- was Michael.

Other Angels were firmly latched on to his wings and arms and she could see deep grooves and cracks lining his skin.
His eyes remained focused on her face, his expression one of desperation.

"Cassidy…," his voice sounded weak. "Please run. Please just go."

"I…I c-can't…"

"You must."

"But-!"

The hallway light started to flicker slightly, the Angels inching down the narrow passage and taking further hold on Michael.

"I can manage them myself. I shall not die immediately. If they take you, they will kill you. Go!"

"Y-!"

"Go! Go now!

Cassidy nodded dumbly, her body moving like a marionette from the neck down. She didn't want to leave but truly had no choice. Sick to the stomach but truly afraid of what would become of her if she stayed, she walked backwards to the partially open front door.

"Tell me how to help you," she pleaded with her Archangel, her eyes twitching painfully. "I don't want to leave you…please…"

His voice was gruff and hoarse, almost dying as it left his body. "Survive. Please survive."

Just as the postman had before, Michael's body suddenly evaporated in the grip of the Angels, one or two of his captors vanishing along with him.

Fear clawed through her and knowing instinctively that there was little more that she could do, she immediately backed out of the door.

They won't kill him.
They won't kill him.
They had better not kill him.
How do I know that they won't kill him?
Where did they take him?
What will they do if they catch me?
They won't kill him.
Will they kill me?

She ran backwards through her front garden, placing her footfalls as carefully as she could and forever aware of the fact that she could have been easily moving straight into the grip of another Angel.
Desperate to find a good hiding place, Cassidy ducked behind one of the garden walls, crouching down and searching for a crack in the wall.

"Wait," she told herself, her eyes now streaming though she wasn't sure if her tears were due to not being able to blink or simply due to being distraught. "Don't look for them. If they turn to stone, they'll know you're here…they know where they're being watched from…you need to get them to leave…"

And then what?

Cassidy had absolutely no idea what to do next.
Her legs ached from crouching in her jeans and she had to clench her jaws to prevent her teeth from chattering. It was bitingly cold and some of the ground she crouched in was already lined with winter frost.

"Don't they have a psychic ability? Do they know I'm here?" she thought. "I was able to hide from Karida…"

Her frightened breath rose up into the air in clouds of vapour so she was forced to seal her lips tightly together. Quivering and partially starved of air, Cassidy tried her hardest to listen.
The still air was occasionally punctured by the noise she recognised as the one that she often heard when Michael moved outside of her vision.
A faint gliding sound, like something smooth being dragged along the ground.

She swallowed hard, pressing herself against the cold stone of the wall as the branches above her head started to rustle.
The sound increased and decreased in volume, usually followed by the movement of some nearby foliage.

After what felt like hours but may only have been minutes, the noise died down to near-silence.

Cassidy's eyelids drooped and she wrapped her arms around her quivering body.
She hadn't prayed in a while but at that moment found herself begging every possible human-worshipped deity for her siege to be over.

Gathering her courage, she peered out through an abscess in the wall.
The garden was empty and devoid of movement save for a few shell-shocked, early-blooming daffodils, struggling to keep an upright posture in the wake of the icy breeze.

Repeating a mantra of bravery in her head, Cassidy gave into her crying muscles and slowly drew herself to a quasi-standing position.

Everything seemed fine.
The garden was deserted.
Maybe now would be a good time to make her way to somewhere with more people, with more eyes.

She took a step back away from the wall, nodding to herself.
She had survived.

Though her quiet celebration was short lived.

A pair of hands shot out from behind her, clasping her eyes and mouth, a familiar rush of cold air shot over her.

When Cassidy's consciousness returned to her next, she would feel a cold forest floor against her cheek.
And she would smell blood.

Clara would always silently admire the Doctor's ever present ability to wear a scowl in the face of adversity. Even when confronted with the possibility of his own demise, the Doctor was unfalteringly defiant. Even if his step was shaky and his plans were virtually non-existent, his resolve was always firm.
It was only the threat of the other lives hanging in the balance that brought a tremor to the Time Lord's body.
And right now, it wasn't just his own life at risk.
It wasn't even just his and hers.
It was his, hers and an innocent five year old child.

Nonetheless, he was a being to be admired as he confronted the Angel.

"So what is it then?" the Doctor questioned the Angel. "What is it that you want? To kill me? No, can't be. You'd have killed me already. Or at least you'd have tried. If you're looking for revenge and it's not through my death then what exactly are you try to achieve?"

An odd shrieking noise all but whistled from the Angel's body. "You have not even asked me for what cause I am seeking my vengeance yet you already worry for my methods, Time Lord?"

The Angel spoke with a voice that wasn't its own.
That much was clear.
The expression

"Let's cut all the niceties. I could spend the next few minutes feeding your insatiable ego by playing some futile guessing game with you and trying to figure exactly what corner of my long and morbid your sob story is lurking in but I'm not feeling particularly patient today so I'm simply going to say that I know who you are. I know why you hate me. The only thing I don't know is what you want. So I'll say it again: what do you want?"

Clara shuddered at the sight of the shadows flickering beneath the Angel's deeply hollowed eyes. It almost made it look as though she was moving, her maniacal grin twitching as she glowered at them.

It was only then that Clara realised what exactly the light-source in the caverns actually were. Some extremely old gas-lamps- like the kind that miners from the Gold Rush during the eighteenth or nineteenth century would have used- were bolted in chains to the wall.

"What I want, Doctor, is for you to feel exactly as I did," the Angel told him, her voice becoming increasingly snarl-like as she continued to speak. "Alone. Abandoned. Without hope for the future…"

"So what then? You hi-jack my TARDIS, threaten my friends and my world's supposed to end, is it? Well, I hate to disappoint you- no that's a lie, I adore disappointing you- but none of that is exactly new to me. In fact you're the fourth, fifth, sixth person this month to try that exact plan and I'll tell you this much…none of it's going to work. You don't understand the power inside the TARDIS; it'll destroy you all. And as for attempting anything against my friends, you're not going to get close enough to any of them to find out what the very grave consequence would be…"

"Oh, it is truly I who hate to disappoint you, Doctor but I have no interest in your time manipulation device. That was simply to provide incentive to the Tribe at present to aid me in my endeavours…I give them all the power that they desire, they give me the necessary reinforcements to accomplish what I desire…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…blah, blah, blah…all you're doing is talking. Get to the point. What are you planning to do to me? I might have mentioned it before but I'm not feeling particularly patient today and to be honest, you're losing my attention by the second."

Clara felt herself take an involuntary step backwards, trembling at the knees when the lights in the cavern flickered briefly.
The Angel had bent forward and was now staring straight at the little girl crouched behind the Doctor's legs.

"I apologise for not expressing my gratitude at an earlier stage, Abigail Drake. I certainly could not have achieved any of this without use of your mind."

Abbie whined softly, pressing her head into the soft hollow behind the Doctor's knee. "I didn't mean to! Yu…You said you wouldn't hurt anyone! You said…said you were good!"

"Hey!" the Doctor snapped sharply. "It's me you're interested in. Leave the other two out of this, eh?"

"Oh, Abigail Drake," the Angel crooned, absolutely ignoring the Doctor's warning. "I still am the voice of true goodness and true justice here…but we never made any agreement of the sort. What we specifically decided was that if I would not kill you or your dear brother provided that you continued to follow my orders. Speaking of which."

The lights in the cavern dimmed and flickered once more, this time illuminating a sight that reduced Abbie to sobbing, brought a clench to the Doctor's jaw and a tremor to Clara's shoulders.

Further down the passage, two of the Angels held between them a bloodied, barely-conscious young man. His face was partially shredded, skin splintered like fleshy petals strewn across his face and the visible skin of his body was practically puce with bruising.
And his hair was the same russet tinge as the little girl's.

"L-Leon!" Abbie coughed mournfully.

The Doctor's eyes burned black in the dark, glinting manically like polished coals.
"I'm going to ask you one last time. What. Do. You. Want?!"

"I want you to run, Doctor. You and your friend are going to run through these caverns and my fellows and I are going to hunt you. There is no possible escape. We will find you both. We will kill your friend. Then, we will kill you…"

The Doctor's teeth were gritted. "And just what makes you think that we're just going to run like rats? What makes you think I don't have a million and one other plans at my fingertips, poised to tear you all down from where you stand?"

"Abigail Drake. Come over here."
The lights dimmed and rose and the Angel's hand was stretched out in the child's direction.

"Abbie," the Doctor cautioned her. "Don't move. Don't do anything she says."
"…if she refuses," the Angel retorted. "Her kinsman dies. Slowly and painfully."

The lights extinguished themselves and a man's strangled screams could be heard in the dark.

"Peeling a human's hide is fairly easy to do. It only took me a few hours to learn to separate the flesh from the muscle tissue without the creature dying midway through the process…"

"Stop it! Stop it! I'll go with you!" came Abbie's approximate response, though her speech was so garbled and slurred that her words were barely coherent.

The lights returned but not fully.
Only the leading Angel was visible and Leon could neither be heard nor seen.

The Doctor attempted to restrain her but the fear and desperation made her quick and the little girl was at the Angel's side before the Time Lord could utter a word in response.

"Very good," the Angel praised her mockingly before her voice returned to a dry coldness. "Now, Doctor. Take your friend, turn around and start running. Refuse a single order and both the child and her brother die at my command…and I wonder if your conscience can handle another death on it?"

The Doctor glowered hatefully at the creature of stone for a moment, though Clara took a hold of his elbow and started to beckon him towards the back entrance of the cave. Her voice was full of fear but she managed to say: "You work best under pressure. Let's work this out, moving."

He turned at first but then suddenly whipped back around.
"You were murdering humans!" His voice was shaking. "At Summer Bank, you were murdering humans. Torturing them in every single way just for sport. What was I supposed to do?"

The Angel laughed again. "You seem to have my motives a little skewed. You see, while it is true that I was the Mother Superior of that particular grouping, it was more of a …project of sorts than something I particularly cared about. Populated mostly by younglings and lone travellers." A growl started to underlay her stolen voice. "I knew if I created another feeding ground, you would grace us with your presence eventually, Doctor."

Clara watched as the Doctor's eyes widened.
"…another?"

"The first one certainly managed to draw you and your collection of humans like a disease…I was particularly intrigued when the Wandering Archangel showed up. I knew he would be good for something or other but I would not have guessed that it would be his pathetic little human female to summon you…then again, you seem to have a penchant for collecting these helpless little creatures, don't you?"

The lights were dim but Clara could see that the Doctor's face was slowly starting to drain of all colour and her own hands were uncomfortably cold as a single, hoarse syllable escaped his lips.
"No."

"I honestly thought you cared for the last ones but you seem to have moved on to your next companion-of-sorts rather quickly. I don't know why though. The last female seemed a lot more interesting…at least when paired with that irritating male…"

"No….you…you're not…"

"Now, I did not think you to remember me but it looks as though your memory has returned, Doctor. You have seen my face before, have you not? You still see my face. Burned into the corner of your mind that holds the most painful of memories."

"…you…"

"And here I thought you were the impatient sort? Perhaps it's time we began our little game…"

In the rapidly vanishing light, Clara squinted to see the Doctor's features but she could just about make out a forehead slowly creasing in a poisonous mixture of rage and grief that she had only ever seen once before.
"…you…you can't…you can't be…you're not…"

"But I am, Doctor. You know who I am." The Angel mimicked a human laugh. "What will this human say, I wonder? The last one , if I recall, had some rather choice parting words for you, did she not? What did she say, again?"

"Don't."

"Oh yes…that's right...goodbye Raggedy Man…."

"Y-You…"

"That's right, Doctor. You killed my family at Winter Quay…so I killed yours."

The Doctor's heavy breathing was suddenly the only sound to pierce the still, cold air in the caverns.
And then the Angel spoke:

"Run. Doctor. Start running."

Before Cassidy could move from where she lay, she felt a hand on the back of her head, keeping her face pressed into the earth.
The pressure wasn't painful but it was firm.

The human woman tried to bring the strength back to her limbs, readying herself to fight but was surprised to hear a soft, middle-aged woman's voice whisper to her.

"Do not stir. Please close your eyes, Cassidy Albright," the voice commanded her gently. "I will not hurt you."

The voice waited until Cassidy laid still before continuing to speak.

"I am the Angel Althea. I have brought you to a place of safety but it is temporary…"

"…wh-why?!" Cassidy managed to choke out, realising that she was lying face down in a pile of dead leaves.

"I require your assistance in saving my son-"

"Y-Your son?!"

"Iblis. My son is the Archangel Iblis."

Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed!