Title: Armageddon

Rating: T

Warnings: Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language

A/N: Gah, once more I'm forced to apologize for the lateness of the chapter. I hate that I can't update as fast as I usually do, but alas, that's just how life is currently tormenting me. Also, August 20 the fall semester starts and I'm going to be bogged down with classes and homework, so bear with me if updates get into a bit of a slump.

Thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter! You guys are phenomenal and I appreciate your support.

I know it seems like I keep adding characters to this thing (and I apologize for that if it's annoying), but I had a thought the other day. I can't possibly include Ruby, Lilith or Lucifer (and I would so adore being able to have Lucifer in this story) because all three of them are in Hell at the time this takes place. However, something dawned on me… Crowley isn't introduced in season 2, but he was almost certainly not in Hell because before he became traitor-turned-King of Hell, he was King of the Crossroads, so by my reasoning, he was probably topside for a while. And while Castiel isn't introduced (along with any other angels – except Gabriel) until season 4, he HAD to have existed, right? I mean, he was in Heaven and they were planning their Apocalypse up there. Or, well, Michael was at least. So I'm not saying that I definitely WILL include them – because I have no idea HOW I'd include Cas at all – but I am putting the possibility out there just in case. Oh, and that does go doubly for Gabriel. I may not include Cas if I can't think of a good reason to have him leave Heaven, but we all know Gabriel's been on Earth for a while and I'm thinking Armageddon might concern him a bit, especially an Armageddon that has nothing to do with his brothers. So be prepared if any of them crop up.

And also, as KMW1968 pointed out, I neglected a couple of "Sherlock" characters who I actually DO plan on including eventually: Donavan and Anderson.

Anyway, just thought I'd mention that. Any thoughts, let me know.

And please review! Hope you enjoy!

Armageddon:

Part III: The Year of Hell

Chapter Two

"So, Doctor," the Master circled around the chair the Doctor had been forced into. He had recovered a bit from the earlier attack, able to sit up straight and hold his head still. He was shaking, but it was anger and devastation rather than from pain.

"I think it's time we had a little chat, don't you think? It's been so long…"

The Doctor looked up at the Master, his old friend and adversary. It broke his hearts to see him like this, it always did. He hated what had happened between them, that he couldn't talk to him the same way that he had been able to centuries ago. Well, he could, but the Master didn't listen.

"Master, please, just listen to me. You don't have to do this. Let these people go, you can still stop th-" his words were cut off by a rough scream as the Master's laser screwdriver shot a bolt of energy directly at his chest.

He heaved over, breaths shaking, eyes watering.

The Master grabbed his hair and yanked his head back up, bending down to look him in the eye, "Now, let's start again, shall we? I talk, you listen. Whenever I ask you a question, you answer. Or next time it'll be one of your little pets in the cells that gets blasted."

The Doctor swallowed and nodded as best he could with the Master's fingers tangling in his hair.

"Now," the Master smiled again, his entire demeanor changing as he leaned against the desk and twirled the screwdriver between his fingers. "Were to start? There's just so much we've got to cover and I've got a busy morning ahead of me. Ruler of Earth and all…"

The Doctor stared at him, remaining silent this time, and waited for him to get to the point. He wanted something, clearly, but the Doctor wasn't sure exactly what just yet, so he sat there quietly and hoped Martha was alright wherever she was down on the Earth. He hoped Spencer and Jack and the Jones family weren't being harmed wherever the Master had locked them up on the ship.

"I know!" the Master suddenly stopped spinning the screwdriver and grinned brightly at the Doctor as he angled himself to face him properly, eyes dancing. "How about we start with Miss Martha Jones. Didn't seem like much," he said, "But she did manage to get away. Stupid, really, I'll get her back."

The Doctor couldn't help but smile a bit. Martha was smart, resourceful and had been travelling with him for quite some time. She knew how to keep herself fairly well widen. And she still had her TARDIS key.

"Whatever plan you've entrusted to her, Doctor, it isn't going to work," the Master continued, idly studying the screwdriver as if pondering his next move.

For a moment, the Doctor blanched. So he knew there was a plan. At least he didn't know what the plan was. And he never would, if the Doctor had his way. As of that moment, only two people knew what the "plan" was. Martha and him.

Suddenly, the Master was right in his face, eyes inches away from him, glittering dangerously. "So tell, me, Doctor, what is your great plan? How are you going to defeat me?"

The Doctor didn't answer, didn't move and didn't even breathe until the Master slowly straightened and smoothed out his suit, eyeing his captive with narrowed eyes. "Do I need to go over the rules again, Doctor?" he asked, fingering the screwdriver with a manic look on his face.

Slowly, the Doctor spoke. "There… isn't a plan,"

The Master deflated, shoulders slumping, head falling, shaking his head like a disappointed parent as he tutted under his breath. As he looked up again he looked truly remorseful, but there was a spark in his eyes that sent a strange thrill of fear down the Doctor's spine.

"Oh, Doctor," he sighed, "Surely you can lie better than that?"

Another blast from the screwdriver sent the Doctor writhing in his seat, screams tearing themselves from his throat. It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, but it felt like hours anyway, before the Master mercifully lowered the weapon and fixed his glittering eyes on the other Time Lord.

He leaned down close and put his hand against his ear mockingly, "Now, what was that? The plan?"

The Doctor's breathing was ragged now and bolts of pain shot through his entire body, but he shook his head slowly, "There is no plan," he insisted.

The Master sighed and pouted, "Alright, fine, fine," he said, "I didn't want to do this, but you're just so darn stubborn. How about… we ask your new little pet. What was his name? Spencer, that one!"

The Doctor sat up in his seat, eyeing the Master in horror now, shaking his head pleadingly. He could hardly get words past his throat and the croaked "No," sounded pathetic even to his own ears. But it was too late, the Master just sighed and shook his head sadly before sending a guard to get Reid from the cells.

~/.\~

NCIS headquarters had been barricaded in, steel doors lock, all agents inside armed. Almost all of them had fled to the building once the Toclafane descended. There weren't many inside who'd managed to escape uninjured and about half the department seemed to be missing. Some part of Gibbs hoped that it was because they had found somewhere else to hide, rather than because they were dead, but he knew there was no way they'd all survived.

He wasn't a normally "emotional" man and his face still wore that half-angry, half-stone expression that everyone knew and had come to expect, but when he spotted Abby, Tony and McGee in the bullpen near his desk, relief made him want to grin.

They all looked a bit worse for the wear, especially Tony who was in a t-shirt and loose jeans and had several bandages wrapped around his arm and a large one on his face. McGee looked fairly uninjured at first, until Gibbs noticed he was sitting with one leg propped against a chair at an odd and sickening ankle.

Abby was shaken and paler than usual, but as far as Gibbs could tell not bleeding. Ducky and Ziva were nowhere in sight and he sped past several agents to get to his team.

"What the hell happened out there?" he demanded, eyes checking over Abby as he got closer. Definitely not bleeding and apparently uninjured.

"It was those Toclafane alien things, Gibbs!" she spoke up immediately, "Weren't you watching the news? Saxon took out President Winters with them and then sent them on the rest of us!"

"It was hell out there, Boss," Tony said, wincing and shifting his shoulders a bit, "Those things just… slaughtered everyone. We aren't even sure who else is gone."

Gibbs didn't respond for a moment, looking around with narrow eyes, "Where's Ducky and Ziva? They been in yet?"

"Ducky's in the morgue," McGee said, "Fixing up everyone he can… He was one of the first to get here when they attacked…" he hesitated and glanced at Tony and Abby.

"He's… pretty upset," Abby said quietly, "He was watching with his mom when they attacked… She didn't…" Abby couldn't finish the sentence, but she didn't really need to finish it, Gibbs knew what she was going to say.

"We haven't seen Ziva," Tony added quietly. "Tried calling her, but she hasn't answered." He eyed the elevators anxiously.

Gibbs nodded, "She can handle herself out there," he said stiffly, not willing acknowledge that she might not be alive. He wasn't going to lose another member of his team. Not so soon after Kate. Not ever, if he could help it.

"I'm going to see Ducky," he said, "You let me know when Ziva shows up."

~/.\~

Hotch was curled up on the couch watching the news coverage with Hailey when it happened. Jack was asleep in their bedroom and they had the volume low so they wouldn't wake up, but the screams still pierced through them. The second the Toclafane broke through their windows, Hotch grabbed his gun and shoved Hailey to the room, "Take Jack and get out of here!" he ordered. "Get to the BAU."

Hailey only hesitated a second, "Aaron, I'm not leaving you here…" her voice shook with fear and then she screamed when the blades came out and Hotch back up, persistently pushing her toward the bedroom. She went without question this time, praying her husband could hold them off and snatching her small son and holding him tight against her chest. She could feel Jack waking up, feel his arms instinctively wrap around her neck and she pushed his head against her chest, not wanting him to see any of this.

"Aaron," she darted out of the bedroom and jerked at the sound of the gunfire, covering Jack's ears. It didn't do much good, Jack was fully away now and the noise had terrified him. He was screaming and crying in her arms.

Hotch didn't waste more bullets when the first three did nothing to the Toclafane. He shoved the gun into his belt and threw the coffee table at them, taking Hailey by the arm and pushing her out ahead of him.

"Run!" he half yelled, shaking as he snatched the keys from the door. They were right behind them now and he practically threw Hailey out the door with Jack before turning back and snatching the nearest thing he could find – which turned out to be a vase – and throwing it at the Toclafane. It shattered, but slowed them down for an instant and he slammed the front door shut, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Hailey getting Jack into the car.

"We don't have time to buckle him in," he ordered, "Get in and hold him!"

The Toclafane were buzzing again and Hotch jumped into the driver's seat, jamming the key into the ignition and hissing as he slammed his door shut and turned to help Hailey. The window shattered and Hailey screamed as a blade cut right across her arm.

"Shut the door! Hurry!"

The blinking metal balls were dancing around the yard now, knives spinning and glimmering. Hotch snatched his discarded briefcase from the passenger seat and slammed into the Toclafane, breathing a sigh of relief when he heard Hailey's door close and pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could.

They were several miles down the road, Jack still crying in the back seat with Hailey, before Hotch even slowed down. His heart was pumping too fast, his mind was racing and his hands were shaking but he hadn't seen another Toclafane since they left the yard. Apparently the ones that had attacked them hadn't followed.

Taking several gulps of air to calm down he glanced in the rearview mirror, squinting to see his wife and son.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice gruff and stiff.

No answer. Jack's crying went on.

"…Hailey?" his foot went completely off the gas and he craned his next to see them. It was dark, but she was leaning back against the seat and… the blood. Her arm was bleeding badly, but that wasn't right. Jack was next to her in the seat, screaming and Hailey wasn't holding him.

Dread pooled in his stomach as the SUV slowed to a stop.

"Hailey…? Hailey, talk to me? HAILEY!"

He ignored Jack's screaming and risked getting out of the car to yank open the back door and Hailey's limp body tumbled out, eyes still open, blood staining her entire torso, a horrible gash in her throat.

He didn't make a sound, didn't scream, didn't cry. He just stared at her for what felt like forever, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Unconsciously his arms went around her bloodied corpse and he hugged her to his chest and Jack's cries went unanswered still as his father finally let out a sob and his knees buckled under him.

~/.\~

Sherlock just stared at Martha for a long second, scrutinizing her before finally concluding, "You're not a terrorist."

Martha fought the urge to have a fit. She'd had a long, stressful day, the world was ending and she had no idea how she was supposed to fix it, but she would. She really didn't have time to deal with this.

"Of course I'm not a bloody terrorist!" she snapped, "Answer the question!"

Sherlock sighed, "I was in your mother's house attempting to find evidence as to exactly what Harold Saxon wants with your family. As far as I can tell, you have an average, boring family that should be of no interest to a man like Saxon."

Martha took a deep breath, studying the man before her carefully, "…Why would you even care?"

"I don't 'care'," he said, sounding annoyed. "I was simply intrigued."

Martha almost laughed and shook her head, "So it was just a puzzle to you?"

"Yes. And you've asked your questions, now, I have some questions of my own."

Martha frowned, "Hold on -!"

"Your family is unremarkable, but you are apparently not. Where did you acquire a Vortex Manipulator?" he asked, eyeing the leather strap she was still clutching in her hands.

"A wh-?" Martha blinked, frowning, "How do you what this is?" She tightened her grip on the device and frowned. It felt so strange to wear it, and besides, it was much easier to read the buttons this way. She could only be thankful that they were in English and not some alien language. Though she did wonder if that was thanks to the TARDIS. Maybe, even in the poor shape she was in, she could still get inside her head. The Doctor said she translated languages written and spoken and Martha could feel the reassuring weight of the key around her neck so maybe…

Sherlock ignored her question, frowning, "Do you work for Torchwood?"

"What? No, how do you even -?"

"Do you know a Captain Harkness?"

Martha froze, eyes wide and for a moment, she wished she had a weapon with her. She knew the Doctor might not approve of that thought, but right now, where she was, the world was one large battle field and she didn't know who to trust.

"How do you know about Jack?"

Sherlock's eyes lit up, "So you do know him! Now things are starting to make sense."

Martha glared at him, "Well I wish you'd enlighten me," she snapped, "Because I have no idea what you're on about, Mr.… What was it?"

"Holmes," Sherlock said, "Sherlock Holmes."

Martha huffed and crossed her arms, "Well, Mr. Holmes, start talking. I think you've got more explaining to do than I do."

Sherlock quirked a brow and glanced up at the sky, still darkened by the Toclafane, though, it seemed, luckily, that they had yet to spot the two of them standing there talking. He nodded toward the Vortex Manipulator, "Do you know how to work that properly?"

She frowned and lightly ran her fingers over the buttons, "Sort of trial and error," she admitted, "It's a bit crammed together on the keypad, but I typed in my mum's address and pressed the button and there I was…"

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully, "May I…?"

Martha snorted and clutched it tighter, "Yeah, right,"

He sighed, "Fine. Type in the address I give you. There's someone you should probably see…"

She raised a brow and hesitated before typing the address in slowly, "Grab on to my wrist," she said, holding her arm out and not looking at him as she finished and hoped to God she had done it right. "Who is it we're going to see?"

Sherlock made a sour face, "My brother,"

~/.\~

Jane's arms instinctively covered his face as the glass shattered above him and he felt hundreds of little pinpricks on his exposed skin as the sharps bit into him, but luckily there didn't seem to be any really bad cuts.

He lay there for a moment, still and quiet and listening to the sound of the Toclafane and Lisbon shooting at them uselessly. Then he sat up, sending glass tinkling to the ground and also earning himself a few more minor cuts. No big deal, really. Pain he could handle.

It seemed that they hadn't noticed him yet, but he saw Lisbon's look of relief when he moved. He stood slowly, careful. He didn't know if the things could hear that well or not, but for the moment they seemed concerned with Lisbon, who was backing up and into the hall, giving him a desperate "Help me!" look.

He didn't know what to do. He wasn't a fighter. He'd never even fired a gun before. Hated weapons, hated physical confrontation – which was slightly ironic given the number of times people had punched him in the face just for speaking – and was clearly out of his element here.

Except for the cleaning staff, Lisbon and Jane were alone in the building, which was a good thin, Jane supposed. Less people here to kill. Everyone else had gone home early, even Minelli. Most of them to watch the coverage of the meeting between the Toclafane and humanity. Even if Jane had owned a television, he couldn't say he'd have been bothered enough to watch, but now he was wishing that he had been watching. Maybe he'd know of some way to fight these things then.

Lisbon growled in frustration, backing up past the interrogation rooms already and her clip was empty.

"Damn it," she swore and threw the gun aside, looking around for anything she could use as a weapon and giving Jane another desperate look. "Now would be nice…" she muttered through clenched teeth as the Toclafane got closer.

Jane's eyes lit on the elevators at the end of the hall and a bright grin settled onto his face. Swerving and ducking around the balls, who only noticed him once he ran in front of them, he grabbed Lisbon's arm and tugged her down the hall.

"What are we doing?"

"Shh! I have a plan!"

"Care to share?"

"No time! Move! Elevators!"

He jammed his hand against the down button and mumbled impatiently as the doors slid open and the Toclafane came with a few feet of them. Lisbon started to step inside, but Jane held her back, kept the doors open and pressed the basement button before leaning back out and keeping one hand against the doors.

"Jane, what –"

"Hold on…"

The Toclafane were way too close now and Lisbon was not liking the look of those knives as they spun at a deadly speed.

"Jane –"

"Wait,"

The buzzing was getting louder and they were right on top of them then.

"Now!"

Lisbon wanted to ask "Now what?" but she didn't get a chance. Jane tugged her to ground and jumped in the elevator long enough to the Toclafane to follow, hit the button to close the doors and rolled out, still tugging Lisbon with him.

She leaned against the door as they slid closed, hearing the angry metal-on-metal whine as the Toclafane shredded into the elevator, but thankfully it was already in motion, taking them down to the basement. She closed her eyes and shook her head, giving the blond man an annoyed glare as he helped her to her feet.

"Let's not ever do that again," she said.

"Might have to," Jane said. "I doubt those were the only ones out there…"

Lisbon felt sick and nodded reluctantly, "Probably not," she agreed. "We need to get some help out here. I doubt we can just trap them all in elevators."

~/.\~

Jason Gideon had seen a lot of things in his time, especially working with the BAU. He'd thought he had seen pretty everything until Harold Saxon announced that he'd had contacts with aliens. Just a couple of years ago, that would have sounded crazier than it did. But alien conspiracy theorists were everywhere these days, getting louder and louder and their proof getting harder and harder to ignore.

In truth, Gideon wasn't sure where he stood in the extraterrestrial debate. He listened to the team go back and forth, Reid and JJ the most avid supporters, Garcia and Prentiss both agreeing that it was interesting to consider, but without solid proof both were still uncertain, though they both wanted to believe and found themselves arguing more with Reid and JJ than against. Morgan the most obvious skeptic, demanding concrete evidence, coming up with "logical" alternate theories and shaking his head at his friends' beliefs.

Hotch was quiet most of the time as well, but had on more than one occasion stated that the proof was getting a bit hard to deny and the idea of alien life wasn't exactly sounding as farfetched as it once had. Even Morgan had to agree with Hotch there; strange things were happening and really, what was the odds of humanity being the only intelligent life form out there?

Still, Gideon was more inclined to believe that whatever Harold Saxon's Toclafane were, they probably weren't aliens, just another vehicle for another politician to gain support and a name for himself.

He wasn't surprised when President Winters intervened, wasn't surprised when UNIT took over the operation, and he wasn't surprised that the live coverage was still going to be aired. But sitting in his apartment alone, watching it all happen on television, he was surprised when Saxon used the Toclafane to kill Winters. He watched in frozen shock and for a moment thought he was seeing things when he caught a glimpse of the familiar face of Spencer Reid on the screen.

And then he heard the glass shatter in his kitchen. Then he heard the faint buzzing and whirring of the mechanical blade and his hand went for his gun. He could hear screams coming from apartments near him, but his brain had already gone into work-mode and he blocked them out.

He emptied his gun at the things and when that didn't work, he attacked with whatever he could, but they were fast, they were small and they had him back into a corner.

He never stood a chance, not really. But he went down fighting, his pained screams mingling with those of his neighbors and the millions more who were dying out there. Bloody and dying, throat so torn he couldn't scream anymore, Gideon's eyes fixed on the still glowing television screen and he caught another glimpse of Reid's face and something in him forgot to be concerned about himself and he prayed that the younger man was alright.

He barely heard the Toclafane leave, blood pounding in his ears, he certainly didn't see them coming. His breathing slowly, he head spun and the world dimmed around him, but he died with one certainty in his mind. The world wasn't going to take this lying down. They would fight back.

~/.\~

It took them several hours of driving to get to the Roadhouse, the pitch black sky turning a faint grey and then pink before they pulled into the parking lot of the old bar. Sam and Dean were used to sharing the road with no one, but the highways had been nearly deserted on their drive and every single radio station was replaying the same goddamn message, over and over. Harold Saxon had killed the president, Harold Saxon had control over the Toclafane, Harold Saxon was the "Lord and Master" and any resistance would be punished harshly.

Eventually, Dean had gotten fed up and turned the radio off, leaving the two of them to ride in silence as they let things sink in.

They were lucky enough not to run into any more of those Toclafane, at least. But then, according to the radio, after the initial wave of attacks that had wiped out a sizable chunk of the population, they had rescinded back to the sky. Apparently, "The Master" was going to address every nation of the world, one by one. Starting with the UK and moving throughout Europe. At least that gave them more time to think.

They had never seen so many beat up cars and trucks and vans outside of the Roadhouse before. At least a dozen of them and they all had to be hunters because who else could they be? Dean winced a bit when he spotted Gordon Walker's truck, but not even Gordon mattered at the moment. They climbed out of the Impala, grabbed their guns and headed inside, trying not to pay attention to the busted in windows and the doors that barely hung on to the hinges.

Dean was almost immediately knocked over by a small blond blur and had to stop for a moment to realize who it was.

"Jo?"

"I thought you were out hunting on your own?" Sam frowned curiously at the younger girl as she stepped back. She looked like Hell. She was dirty and her hands were cut up and there were several fresh cuts along her arms and one of her face and her shirt was splattered with red blood, most of which they were willing to bet wasn't her own.

"I was," she said, "I was in the middle of taking down a Ghoul when those… those Toclafane things show up and the next thing I know, the whole town's being attacked. I was dodging them all night and then, right around dawn, they all just took off. Have you seen them yet?"

"No, not in person," Dean said, "They attacked our motel though. No one made it out. We hightailed here as soon as we got out of there."

Jo nodded, "Ash has been waiting for you two," she said.

"Couldn't he just call?"

"No, that reminds me… Give me your phones," Jo held out her hands and Sam and Dean cautiously passed their cell phones over to her. She stared at them for a moment and then dropped them on the ground, stomping on them with all her might, sending bits of plastic zipping across the ground.

"What the hell -!"

"Archangel," Jo said, "Saxon's got control of it. Ash'll explain. This way."

She led them through the bar where Sam and Dean counted fifteen hunters, most of whom they had never met. Near the back corner was a tall black man, shotgun resting in front of him, bleeding from his head. They quickly looked away and sped up, not wanting to deal with Gordon at the moment.

The door to Ash's room was open and they entered cautiously, not surprised at the mess of beer cans that had been shoved to one side on the floor or the massive amounts of broken laptops, cell phones, desk top computers and other things that were scattered over a large, makeshift workbench near the back.

What did surprise them, however, was the figure resting on the bed, half propped up and bleeding badly from her gut.

"Ellen?"

"Hey boys," her smile was a bit weak but she shifted forward on the bed, one arm kept wrapped around her torso, "Finally made it, I see."

"We were… a little out of the way. What the hell happened to you?" Dean demanded, his eyes fixed on the blood shirt.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Ellen assured them, "Jo bandaged me up. Those damn Toclafane did a number on the place. Six hunters and a family of three were killed before they left." Her face was hard and she shook her head, "Guns don't work, knives don't work, but I'll tell ya we did figure out…"

"What?"

"You send enough current through the bastards and they drop like flies,"

"How did you manage to figure that out?" Sam asked, frowning.

"One of 'em tore open the wall behind the bar, with the wiring for the phones. Stuck its shiny little blade in there and jolted itself to death. Ash is working on getting us something that'll kill the things."

She glanced over at the other man, who was fiddling with something on the bench. He spun around, finally and didn't even offer them a grin; his face was cut up and his eyes were heavy, "Saxon's got Archangel in his pocket," Ash said, "As long as he controls it, he can track us, spy on us… anything he wants, so no cell phones." He tossed them a pair of hand held radios.

"Use these. I'm working on hacking into the system and figuring out a way around Archangel, but it'll take time," he pulled out the makeshift laptop they'd seen the last time they were there.

"As far as we can tell, Saxon can hold the whole world hostage and there's nothing we can do about it," Jo said, frowning.

Dean stared down at the radio in his hands, a determined look glinting in his eyes. He looked back up and shook his head. "There is something we can do," he said, "We can fight back."

~DW/CM~

A/N: First, I'll apologize for the lack of Torchwood this chapter. They're getting a longer scene in chapter eight to make up for it though, so forgive me.

Second, I made a couple of minor changes to chapter 6. Namely, Gideon didn't go to his cabin and I altered a line. Nothing too important really, just thought I'd mention that.

Anyway, thank you all for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Please let me know! More to come soon! And let me know your thoughts on the Crowley, Gabriel and Cas. I know how I would include Crowley, in fact I have a very distinct idea and I have a vague idea about Gabriel (plus, I would love for Martha to meet Gabriel). Cas is the only one I'm uncertain of how to approach, but I'll let you know what I decide on them when I decide it.

Thanks for the support and please review!