Lethal Appendages

Hey guess what guys! I'm nice! Relatively speaking. Well, no, I'm not really nice at all. But I have nearly finished typing all of the chapters, so the updates will be coming more rapidly.

Warning for minor cameo from another fandom, but if you don't know them, you won't miss any of the story. The cameo is mainly for my dear friend Iron Man, and Chasing. And JIMMY NOVAK! SOB SOB SOB! Okay done. Here's the story.

They looked like the torture device used on Princess Leia in the original Star Wars movie, Martha decided. Minus the lethal-looking appendages, granted, but it was still infeasible to her how people could so blindly trust these strangers. Had she really been like them only a few months ago? The thought made Martha's stomach churn. If this was how easy it was to take over the human race, what would happen the day the Doctor didn't come? What would happen if they couldn't save him this time?

Martha shivered and pulled her thin jacket tighter about her shoulders. November had swept in with icy winds and chilling rain, leaving a perpetual dampness in the drafty warehouse.

Martha and Donna had agreed to keep their time outside to a minimum, as per the Doctor's warning - with Ianto in Downing Street, they never knew when he might be watching through traffic cameras or private security, but Martha had been cooped up inside for two weeks without a single break, and she desperately needed to stretch her legs.

She had a shopping bag in one hand, filled with food and toiletries bought at the corner grocery a few blocks away, and she walked with a slow, leisurely pace. It was dark and the street was empty of both people and Toclafane. She was safe.

"Help! Somebody, please!"

Martha came to a halt as she passed the mouth of an alley, ears pricked for any sound. The voice came again. "Hello? Is anyone there? I need help." Martha took a step inside the alley. It was definitely a child's voice.

"Hello?" Martha called. She squinted into the gloom and began to walk towards the source of the voice, but saw no one. "Are you hurt?"

"Help me," came the voice again, a little louder.

"Where are you?"

"Help!"

With her eyes narrowed, Martha could just make out a dark shape slumped against the brick wall on her right. Immediately she dropped the shopping bag and sprinted to it, but her hands were met only by the smooth texture of slippery wet plastic. Just a bin bag. She straightened up and squinted around again.

"Where are you?"

"Hello, Martha Jones." Martha's head jerked toward the sound, and she let out a small gasp of shock.

"Ianto?"

"It's nice to see you again," said the voice. It was without a doubt Ianto's, but it sounded tinny and faint, the way a voice emanating from a weak speaker does. "Not that I don't enjoy a good game of hide and seek. But there's been enough of that, don't you think? Why don't you come in? Your friends miss you."

"Let them go!" Martha snarled at the darkness through clenched teeth, staring blindly around for something, anything, to beat to a bloody Time Lord pulp.

"Oh, not going to cooperate, are we?" She heard a clinking and an evil whir. Tiny blue lights appeared before her, floating in midair, and three Toclafane emerged from the darkness, only feet away. They hovered at eye level, drawing steadily closer and closer.

Martha took a step back. Her heel scraped against the brick wall of the alley. Her eyes flicked from one Toclafane to the next, trying to calculate. If she could duck underneath, she could make it out to the main road and hide somewhere. She knew she couldn't go back to the warehouse with Ianto's pets on her trail.

She coiled, ready to run. Pshing! From nowhere, dozens of long, gleaming blades slid out on silver arms, protruding from the Toclafane, and began spinning like egg beaters. The whirring knives edged. Icy terror flooded Martha's body, paralyzing her muscles. She was going to die alone in this alley, killed by an acid trip of George Lucas'. She closed her eyes and screamed.

BANG!...BANG! BANG!

All the strength seeped out of Martha's legs, and she sank to the ground, trembling horribly. Near her feet, she saw sparking black shards intermingled with silver blades.

"What the hell!"

There were hurried scuffing footsteps, and a figure knelt down in front of her. "Hey," said a soft voice. "Hey, are you okay?"

Martha shook her head. Her breaths came in short ragged gasps, and she could feel her heart pounding a tattoo against her ribcage.

A young man's face framed by chin length brown hair, set with intense hazel eyes that look into Martha's with concern, filled her vision. Even in her terrified state, she had to admit he was kind of cute.

"Hey, man, I don't like this," said a deep voice from behind the young man. The beam of a flashlight illuminated the alleyway, revealing a tall, broad shouldered man with short hair and a brown leather jacket, and three shattered Toclafane shells, inside which sat mutilated, squid-shaped things. "I don't do robots," said the man, "and I really don't do aliens. Man, I hate England."

The younger man rolled his eyes. To Martha he said, "Can you stand?"

She nodded tremulously and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Already feeling was beginning to return to her body, even if her heart was still racing. She had the presence of mind to look over the men for guns. The younger one seemed to be unarmed, at least by what she could see in the insufficient lighting, but Leather Jacket had a huge hunting rifle gripped in both hands, pointed at the Toclafane remains.

"Where did you get that?" she asked, gesturing to it.

Leather Jacket looked up from the Toclafane in surprise. "Oh, damsel in distress." For some reason, he shot a suggestive look at the younger man, who, now that they were all standing, was noticeably taller. Martha didn't even reach his shoulder.

"You killed them," said Martha, stronger now. "Where did you get that gun?"

"Sorry, sister." Leather Jacket transferred the gun to a resting position against his shoulder and patted it fondly. And Martha only now realized they both had American accents, but with more of a drawl than Jack's. "This baby's special. One of a kind."

"I need something that can kill them. You have to help me!"

Leather Jacket shook his head. "Outta luck. Like I said, we don't do aliens." He turned to go. "Come on, Sam."

The younger man, Sam, hesitated. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. He withdrew an old black hand gun with a long, narrow barrel, and handed it to her.

"Here. It'll kill most living or demonic entities, but there's only one bullet, so…"

"Sam!"

Sam smiled apologetically as Martha accepted the gun, and walked off into the shadows after Leather Jacket. Martha looked down at the weapon in her hand. It wouldn't do much good to only be able to kill one Toclafane, when there were millions zooming around the city. But one Time Lord…

oOo

Donna listened intently to Martha's story when she finally returned to the warehouse. After she had finished, Donna picked up the gun gingerly with her thumb and forefinger. She shook her head.

"We can't kill him."

"He tried to kill me!" cried Martha furiously. "He's got the Doctor! He's got everyone! Anyone who could possibly help us is locked up in Ten Downing Street. That gun is all we have."

Donna did not look convinced. She set the gun back down on the table, eyeing it distastefully. "The Doctor wouldn't want us to kill."

"The Doctor wouldn't want us to let the entire planet be destroyed!" shouted Martha.

"I don't think we should kill him," said Donna firmly. "We don't even know what they're up to. We should find another way."

So for you people who aren't Superwhovians, the two guys in the alley were Sam and Dean Winchester (or as I prefer to say it, Deeeeeeeeeeeeeean Wiiiiiiiiinchester), from the CW show "Supernatural". They are demon hunters from Kansas, who drive around in a black Chevy Impala. Don't ask me how they got to London. And for people who do watch Supernatural, I want to make very clear that the gun was NOT the Colt. Ironman thought it was and nearly murdered me with a plastic spoon.

They probably won't show up again, but if you want them to, drop a review or a PM and I'll see what I can do. I do in fact have an incidental one shot written for Castiel, so let me know if that has any appeal. It involves someone humming "Stairway to Heaven." And Destiel. *wink wink*