"I… The demon never called for the bird." Sam said. His thumb stilled its tracing of my hand. "I didn't even see it."
"No, the bird was there," I jumped in. "I saw it just before the demon showed itself. That was why it was wearing the one glove."
"The bird is still on the loose then?" John asked.
"Looks like it, and without the demon controlling it. The bird could be anywhere, and it's probably got an appetite for some human flesh now." Dean grimaced. "We have to find it."
A shattering of glass from the feature window above the front door, the only one the demon hadn't destroyed earlier, stopped us mid conversation. Turning slowly, we all looked through the door. Flying through the broken glass and staring back at us was the stymaphalian bird.
John closed the door with a loud bang, turning the lock as he did so.
"You think that's actually going to keep the bird out, John?" Sherlock sneered, pulling his blogger away from the door.
"No, I don't. It could buy us a few seconds, though." He replied quickly, transforming into a solider once more. He turned to the room, demanding "What are its weaknesses?"
"Noises," I said automatically. "Hercules killed them by making noises and then shooting it down." I scanned the room for the tambourine I had grabbed earlier. It was lying on the floor next to Sam's chair. I reached over him to grab it.
"I'll take that." Dean insisted, holding his hand out.
"No way, you were just knocked unconscious." I replied.
"And you were almost killed!" He snapped at me. I knew Dean. He would go out that door ready to sacrifice himself to save the rest of us. Didn't the idiot see the faults in that plan?
"We don't have time for this!" Sherlock yelled, grabbing the tambourine out of my hand. "John's the best shooter in this group. I'll distract the bird. The rest of you get out."
"Yes, sir." I answered, getting to my feet. Quickly grabbing my backpack and anything useful within reach, I slid the bag onto my shoulders and opened the window as wide as it could go.
"We can't go through the window," Sam argued.
"Trust me. I've gone out this way many times. It just requires a little jumping." I replied hastily. There was a bang against the door that sent splinters of wood through the room.
"We don't really have any time to argue Sam," Dean barked. I nodded at him. With that I ducked out of the window and onto the roof.
I had to say, the roof was usually such a peaceful place, but at the moment it felt like a death trap. I took a breath and continued down the roof. I turned around to watch as Sam, Dean, and the Doctor climbed out the window. Another bang echoed through the house, and I could hear the door exploding open, letting the bird into my room. The tambourine started to ring, and the gun was fired a few times. I could hear the bird still, so I don't think either was working.
"Keep going, Lucy!" The Doctor yelled at me.
I nodded at the Time Lord, and walked a little further down the roof. There was another crash that shook the roof. Unfortunately for me I had been standing right at the edge, preparing to jump onto the box that sat on the porch. A sudden quake followed by the sound of shattering glass, which I later realized was from the bird breaking through my bedroom window, caused me to lose my balance and topple off the roof. Instead of making the five foot jump onto the raised porch, I was falling nearly sixteen feet toward the garden. I tried to straighten myself. I had heard that by landing on their feet, some people had survived falls from taller buildings. I hoped to God that information wasn't wrong.
Approaching the ground, I braced for impact. I didn't land, though, instead of hitting the ground I was being lifted higher and higher. For a moment I relaxed. Someone had caught me. Then I realized that from my positioning no one could have done that. Something was digging into my shoulders much harder than I noticed a moment ago and it wouldn't let up. Terrified, I looked at my left shoulder and saw a set of brass talons instead of a friendly hand dragging me to safety.
The demon had been controlling it before, letting it only eat the hearts of its victims. I still had no idea how long they were stuck in the time stream, but the demon had said years. Now I don't know the exact dietary habits of Stymphalian birds, but it was probably hungry for its favorite food: fresh human.
"Shit," I breathed. The gunfire had stopped, and I twisted around to see John and Sherlock in the window. Sam was frozen on the roof, but the Doctor and Dean... They were nowhere in sight. I saw the Impala tear down the street in front of the house. Hoping I knew what they were doing, I shouted out to John. "Shoot it!"
"You'll fall!" Sam cried from the roof top. Well the alternative was being eaten, so I wouldn't mind falling in comparison. It probably would be a less painful death than being ripped apart by a brass beak. I was above them and traveling further away fast within a moment I would be out of range.
"SHOOT!"
John nodded solemnly and held the gun up. It fired with a loud bang.
The bullet grazed my arm as it lodged itself in the vulnerable underbelly of the bird. It croaked attempting to stay a flight. A second shot hit it square in the neck, causing it to flail for a moment before stilling completely. It fell like a stone and I followed along. The claws were still dug into my shoulders and I pulled at them, desperately trying to free myself. Holding my breath, I yanked at the talons.
It hurt like hell. I tried not to look at my shoulders as I continued to fall. At least the talons were out. That was the important part. Now I would fall a little more slowly. The bird had flown us at least forty-five feet into the air roughly the equivalent of a six story building, but I was quickly covering that distance. I spread out my limbs trying to slow the falling speed even more. A thought passed through my head wondering how similar to a flying squirrel I looked like at the moment. Someone, probably Sam, was shouting from below me. Dear God let me have been right.
A flash of blue, the loveliest blue in the world, caught my eye. I swiveled my head toward it, seeing the TARDIS come into view. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been correct in my assumption of where Dean and the Doctor had gone off to.
The police box was flying somewhat sideways, and I felt momentarily bad for the Doctor, the TARDIS wasn't meant to fly like that. The doors were flung open, and I could see Dean standing the doorway, motioning for me to fall through the doors. I nodded, following the direction. I angled myself to fall into the TARDIS.
"Umpf" Dean grunted as he caught me, arm wrapping around my back to steady both of us.
"Brilliant catch!" The Doctor praised, looking up at the console.
"Thanks," Dean replied.
"You did great too, Dean!" The Doctor commended, missing the confused look on Dean's face.
"He was complimenting the TARDIS that first time," I whispered to Dean. "He loves it like you love the Impala."
"Ahh," Dean responded in understanding.
Frantically running around the TARDIS dashboard, the Doctor flipped a switch and rotated something that seemed similar to a steering wheel. He glanced up at us with a manic smile plastered on his face and shouted, "Hang on!"
Dean and I grabbed onto the railing, as the Time Lord landed his TARDIS. After landing safely (though slightly scrambled) on the ground, we both let go and let out a cheer. The Doctor walked over, satisfied, with his hand in his pockets. I pulled him and Dean into a hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I repeated on end. Both of them returned the hug.
"Don't mention it," Dean grinned.
"You're welcome, Lucy," the Doctor replied, beaming.
"Lucy?" Sam begged to know, bursting in through the TARDIS doors. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, but hope in his eyes. Dean and the Doctor both let go of me and moved to the side, letting Sam see me.
"Oh God," he rushed over, pulling me into a crushing hug. He was nearly a foot taller than me, so his hug basically enveloped me into a bubble of Sam. Feeling his ragged breath slow as I clutched him back, we stood like that for several moments, oblivious to the world around us. I realized then that it was going to break my heart if he left back through the void, and I clutched him harder.
"Lucy. Sam," John said softly to the right of us. "You're going to have to let go. Lucy is losing a lot of blood."
"What?" I asked, pulling away. A quick look at both my shoulders, or what remained of them, and I passed out cold.
"Let's get her head elevated, and Sherlock go get her a glass of water," I heard John directing. Everything was a bit fuzzy, and why was I on my back?
"As I recall, she prefers tea to water."
"Sherlock, who's the doctor here you or me?"
I giggled a little. I adored it when John bossed Sherlock around. I heard someone, march out of the room, probably Sherlock. I opened my eyes, blinded momentarily, before registering the TARDIS ceiling. Oh right, I passed out.
"She's awake," Sam said, leaning toward my face. "Are you okay?"
"I feel fine, maybe a little uncomfortable. My shoulders are stinging a lot, and I feel really hot and really cold at the same time." I saw Sam glance at my shoulders and grimace. Racking my brain for any other pain, I realized my feet were aching, which was weird. Why would my feet be hurting? I relayed that information onto Sam as well.
"Course they do, dumbo. You never put your shoes back on. You've been running around sock-footed for the past few hours."
I lifted my head to glance at Sam's feet. "Apparently, so have you."
"This is why I wear shoes all the time," he joked, making me smile.
"I've been meaning to ask Sammy," Dean started, "why are you wearing one rainbow sock?"
I stuck my leg into the air to show Sam's sock on my foot. "We made a bet in the diner, and we both lost, so we had to give up our socks."
"What was the bet?"
"Well I bet Sam that the waitress wasn't into you-"
"And I bet Lucy that you would still be the one leaving with her number."
"Wait… so that waitress chick was into me?" Dean smirked.
"Well, when I asked she said that she was, but when she wrote down the number it turned out she wasn't interested in the male gender." I laughed at the way the smirk slid off Dean's face. "It's okay man," I consoled. "You'll be meeting your own angel soon enough."
Sherlock walked back into the TARDIS with a tea mug in one hand and some cookies in the other.
"Sherlock," John said, putting his hand on the bridge of his nose. "What part of 'get Lucy water' translated into 'get Lucy tea and biscuits'?"
"The part that knows Lucy prefers tea to water. I already told you." Sherlock handed me the mug. It smelled even better than last time. He handed the plate of cookies to Sam, who started to nibble on one of them.
I took a sip of tea, feeling instantly relaxed. I looked at John asking, "So how bad is it?"
"Well," he looked at the marks the talons had left behind. "You're going to need a few stitches on both your shoulders. The talons were dug pretty far in, and the way you tore them out didn't help anything. Luckily the bullet only grazed your arm," I could feel John tensing up. Of course he blamed himself for hitting me. It wasn't as if the bird had been flying a few miles per hour and I was swinging helplessly under it, I thought sarcastically. "So that will only need to be bandaged.
"Is it dead?" In the middle of everything, I had forgotten to ask.
"As a doornail," Dean answered. "John's got good aim."
"I was in the army for a few years." John answered, kneeling next to the first aid kit that he'd brought over from the house. He glanced at the cut on my arm, "but I'm getting out of practice."
"Why aren't you still in it?" Sam asked.
"I got shot." John said bluntly, taking a needle and threading it.
"Really? I would have never been able to tell," Dean replied.
"Obviously, because you only see, never observe." Sherlock muttered. Dean shrugged without argument.
"Now Lucy, I'm sorry to ask this, but you're going to have to take off your shirt. I can't get to your shoulders well enough otherwise."
"Okay," I said in a small voice. Honestly the last thing I wanted to do was take off my shirt in front of five of my idols. I mean, they were all so fit from running around after criminals, or aliens, or ghosts. I was fit too, but just not terribly so. I guess spending hours in front of a laptop will do that to you. Sucking in a slow breath, I tugged my shirt over my head. I could feel my cheeks burning red, as I shifted uncomfortable under the stare of John Watson. I really had nothing to be worried about, though. As expected, John was professional with his work. I tried to ignore looking at anyone else, but as far as I could see Sherlock and the Doctor were both distracted by their thoughts and didn't seem to care about my appearance much at all.
"Here," Sam offered, taking off his jacket. He laid it on top of me, careful to avoid putting it on the areas that John needed to access.
"Thanks," I replied bashfully, trying to keep another round of blushing from occurring. Sam really was a sweetie, and I was falling head over heels for him.
"This should numb it," John said rubbing some medicine into the torn skin. I felt the gnawing pain in my shoulders go away. I assumed that he was cleaning the wound as well, but I wasn't watching.
"It's working. I can't feel anything."
"Good. Now, I'm going to stitch you up in a few places. It might be best to avoid looking at the needle. It tends to make patients anxious and imagine their own pain."
"Sounds good," I concurred, turning my head to look at Sam. He had eaten two biscuits (biscuits? Oh wow my English and American vocabularies were really beginning to blur) by now, and it seems like Dean had eaten at least one. I set my tea mug on the floor, beside my leg, so I wouldn't accidently move my shoulder, taking a sip of the warm liquid.
"So Doctor," I said attempting to distract myself. I could just barely feel the needle going in and out of my skin. "What have you been thinking about so intensely?"
The Doctor looked up from the screen he'd been staring at for the past ten minutes. "The demon," he answered.
"We killed him didn't we?" I asked.
"Sent him back to hell, technically," Sam corrected, taking my hand, so I had something I could grip while John sewed up the talon marks.
"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, teasingly. The tone was lost a bit, while I was clenching my teeth shut. "Didn't we finish him off?"
"Weelll…. That's the interesting part," the Doctor said, running his hand through his hair (damn it was even sexier in person). I wasn't sure if that meant he was thinking or if he was nervous about something. Probably both, I decided. "The demon is finished, if you want to put it that way, but the timeline was off. We killed him before we've even met him."
"What?" Dean asked, confused.
"Basically the demon that met us for the first time hasn't actually taken possession of Lucy's neighbor, yet. However, it will and we're going to be the ones to fight it. Somehow the demon has to get pushed into the time hole along with his bird. For the monsters, years will pass without our noticing, but they will eventually return to the correct time period as we saw them do less than an hour ago."
"Why don't we just kill the bastard next time we see it?" Dean asked.
"We can't it would disrupt the whole time steam too much," the Doctor said evenly.
"So we're just going to let the demon and his pet bird kill innocent people?"
"It's either that or create a paradox, which would be much worse." The Doctor argued. "Believe me, I wish it didn't have to be this way either, but it has to be. A paradox would only make the original tear worse, and we really can't have that."
"We're going to have to face him again?" I hissed out through my teeth. The numbing medicine wasn't nearly as strong as I wished it were. I squeezed Sam's hand even tighter.
"You're hurt. You really can't come with us." Sam said with a glance to the stitching Doctor Watson was doing.
"Wrong, leave me out you and you'll alter the time line. The demon had something against me and me alone. He barely bothered to look at you all, when he came into the house. I'll end up being in the middle of everything one way or another." I replied.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see John returning to the first aid kit, taking out the neatly rolled gauze cloth and some tape. I took a quick peek at my right shoulder. There were three sets of stitches, one for each talon from the bird. The stitches themselves were black and in neat little rows. The left shoulder looked about the same. Any prior knowledge aside, John was a fantastic doctor. I went to flex my shoulders to test the thread, but John put a hand on my arm to stop me.
"It would be best not to disrupt the stitches as much as you can." He soothed, while wrapping the gauze around my shoulder and around my chest and back. He was maneuvering the cloth expertly around the straps of my sports bra. I silently thanked him for doing so. After some more gauze wrapping around the other shoulder and the bullet wound in my arm, a few pieces of tape were added to hold it all in place. John sat back on his heels to examine his handiwork.
"I think that should do," he said more to himself than to me.
"Thank you, John." I said gratefully, picking up my tea much once more. It was much more difficult with the bandages and the pain was settled in again. However, I was delighted to find the tea was still warm as I took a sip.
"Don't mention it," he smiled, packing away the first aid kit.
"It's getting late," the Doctor cut into the conversation. He had been talking with Dean previously and whatever they had said Dean seemed to agree with the time lord. "I've offered for you all to stay in the TARDIS. I insist really, because she's already made rooms for you all."
"Any bunk beds?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"No… would you prefer a bunk bed?" The Doctor asked curiously.
"I'm good actually, I was… I was just wondering." I really needed to watch my tongue a little more closely.
"No bunk beds then? I don't really see why anyone would dislike them, now that I think about it. Bunk beds are kind of…. Cool?"
"You could say that," I laughed. I shifted to get up, before realizing that I was still wearing only Sam's coat and my current shirt was ripped and stained with blood. It really was a shame. I loved that shirt. It had the deathly hallows mark on it and everything.
"I- uh- does anyone have a shirt I could borrow?" I inquired awkwardly, looking around the room,
"Give me a minute," Dean said surprisingly. He ran out the door and returned in no less than five minutes holding a new shirt for me. "There you go."
"Thank you so much Dean." I said, slipping the shirt over my head. I felt the stitches pull a little bit and the sleeves kept getting caught on the bandages. I could tell these injuries were going to be a pain.I hadn't noticed what the front said as the hunter handed the clothing article to me, so many of my t- shirts were black that I could never tell them apart. I glanced down at the front and read the print: Some army doctors marry some consulting detectives. Get over it. Blushing fiercely, I turned to Dean. "Was this seriously the best shirt you could find?"
"I- what's the matter with it?" He asked defensively.
"I believe it's a shirt showing support for gay marriage by using John and I as an example," Sherlock responded to Dean's question.
"Well you two do make a cute couple." I grumbled. Sherlock and John both glanced quickly at each other before looking away just as fast. They really did belong together, but it seemed like neither of them were willing to make the jump.
"Where's my room?" I asked, turning to the Doctor. I was still a little embarrassed by the shirt, but really there was nothing wrong with it. Plus it was soft from a lot of use, which made it even more appealing at the moment.
"Here let me show you!" He said, springing out of his seat. "Right this way."
