Title: Armageddon

Rating: T

Warnings: Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

A/N: First, as always, thanks so much for the reviews :) You guys are amazing as usual! I love you!

Second, holy crap was this chapter actually fun to write. Don't know what it was, but I really enjoyed it and I hope you all enjoy it too! Thank you for your patience waiting on it; I know it's unfair making you all wait.

Please review and let me know what you think!

Armageddon:

Part III: The Year of Hell

Chapter Seven

The people in the building listened in captivated wonder as Martha told them about the Doctor and his space ship; she explained everything that she knew – about what the Doctor had told her to tell them.

She'd travelled over most of the United Kingdom by this point and told the story to countless people. She was leaving London as soon as possible, moving east once more. She wouldn't have doubled back at all except that she had finally heard from Sherlock that the first part of their "weapon" was ready to be picked up. While she was with Torchwood she'd already made the decision that the first and last parts of the "weapon" would be hidden in London.

Martha didn't even know the exact location of the other pieces. Sherlock still had to hide the second piece somewhere if he hadn't already and she didn't know exactly where Kate was taking hers, but she was able to stay in contact with them over radio networks. They only had a small window of opportunity and she wasn't sure if Sherlock could get her the first piece in time or not, but she hoped and she waited.

Donna was a huge help, telling her own story about how she'd met the Doctor. Martha actually found herself listening to Donna and laughing as Donna talked. The older woman certainly had a knack for storytelling and what a story it was. Martha wasn't sure if she'd have believed it if she hadn't met the Doctor before herself.

This wasn't the first time she'd met someone who could relay their own stories of the Doctor. She'd met Sally Sparrow her first time in London a few weeks back – she vaguely remembered the young woman as the girl who'd handed her and the Doctor the papers about the Weeping Angels and she definitely remembered her story. She'd even met a woman running a safe house who had travelled with the Doctor ages ago – in another lifetime she'd said – she called herself Sarah Jane and the two of them had fought off a group of Toclafane with the help of a robotic dog Sarah Jane had said was named K9. Martha had promised to tell the Doctor she sent her love when she saw him again.

Of course, none of the people Martha had met so far could quite match Donna's personality. Martha found the boisterous woman comforting though. She was defiant and angry and refused to believe that this was how things would continue to be. The kind of person who inspired hope and fighting spirit.

It was getting late that night, Martha's stories and Donna's had been told and she could hear people talking about the Doctor, whispering about how wonderful it would be if he could help. She just hoped that she'd done a good job convincing them all.

"So," Donna bumped her on the shoulder and pulled her out of her wondering, "You met Shakespeare?"

Martha grinned at the memory, "I did," she said, "Got to see one of his plays in the Globe too. Best second date of my life," she sighed sadly and frowned.

"What? You fancy him?"

Martha shrugged, "I dunno, maybe… I haven't got a clue anymore what I think. I mean… he's the most fantastic man I've ever met and I've never been bored with him but it's… like he looks right through me, you know? Like I don't even matter."

Donna frowned, "Well, alien of not, I say he's still just a bloke so if he can't give you the proper attention, maybe you find someone who will."

Martha grinned at her, shaking her, "Well, I think now might be a bad time to go looking for a boyfriend anyway, don't you think?"

Donna looked around and shrugged, "I dunno, end of the world and everything. What better time to do something rash and unexpected."

Martha laughed then, a light feeling she hadn't felt in a month filling her gut. She couldn't really remember the last time she'd laughed, really laughed. It felt nice. "Got a point there," she agreed, nodding, "Still, be a bit difficult to find a man with me constantly travelling around and all."

Donna nodded, "Alright, but what about once this is over? Shakespeare might be nice and interesting, but seems to me your pining on a lost cause, sweetheart."

Martha sighed, "You're probably right," she said, "All he ever talks about is how Rose would've been, how special she was, how much he misses her…" she made a face, "Sometimes I think I hate Rose and I've never even met her!"

Donna laughed and shook her head, "Ah, don't hate her," she said, "Must've been quite a girl if Spaceboy's still moaning about her."

"Must've," Martha nodded glumly, "Still, there are these times when I think he can actually see me, ya know? And he'll smile and grab my shoulders and tell me I'm brilliant and I just… Forget how much it hurts when he doesn't do that."

"Blimey, you've got it bad," Donna shook her head, "You can't keep hanging around waiting for him, Martha," she said, "Not that he's not great, but I think he's a little off his rocker anyway and there's probably plenty of other blokes out there."

Martha thought about that, "Maybe," she said, "I dunno. First things first, though, I should probably finish saving the world." She laughed a little, but the weight of those words seemed to crush her shoulders. Donna smiled at her and put and arm around her comfortingly.

"Probably for the best. But after saving the world, move on and have a life. That's what I say anyway…"

~/.\~

While van Pelt led Jane to the back to teach him the basics of gun use, Rigsby sank down onto the couch next to O'Laughlin and sighed heavily.

"You're really worried about him going out there with us, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rigsby nodded, "I mean, I've worked with Jane a long time, the guy's never used a gun in his life. If he knew more about this, maybe…"

O'Laughlin frowned a bit, shaking his head, "How has he never used a gun before?" he asked, "I mean, he was in law enforcement, right?"

"Yeah, but remember, he was just a consultant. He was never armed. He hates guns anyway, I can't believe he said he'd use one…"

The FBI agent mulled that thought over for a moment and then patted Rigsby on the shoulder, "We'll be there to watch his back, Wayne," he said, "Everything's gonna be fine. We might even find your boss too. Just relax; no sense getting worked over something like this."

Rigsby offered O'Laughlin a wan smile and the other agent left the room to go to the backrooms and watch Jane shooting. Rigsby was – for once – alone with his thoughts and he allowed them to drift over everything that had happened in the past month. It hadn't been any easy time, that was for sure. He'd lost friends, colleagues… People he'd never even thought he would miss were gone and it gave him an ache in his chest.

Suddenly, Grace Holloway sat down next to him, smiling softly. The doctor and van Pelt had been the ones who kept everyone else sane most of the time. They were the voice of optimism and reason whenever everyone else felt like giving up or that they were never going to win this.

"You look even more depressed than Patrick did," she said, "You know, that's not exactly comforting. I thought you'd be more excited, finding Agent Lisbon after all this time."

"I am," he said, shaking his head, "It's just… I'm worried about Jane…"

"You don't to lose another friend," she nodded, "You know, for what it's worth I think Patrick needs this more than any of us. Plus, he's going to drive me nuts if he stays down here another hour!"

Rigsby laughed and nodded, "Good point…"

Grace sighed, "How many people have you lost?"

"What? I don't … Too many already," he shook his head, "You?"

She frowned, "My cousin, Jessica, her husband, my next door neighbor… I'm actually glad my parents are both gone so I didn't have to lose them in this nightmare…"

"I lost my best friend…" Rigsby still didn't like to talk about Cho, sometimes he still had nightmares of finding him lying there, eyes empty and staring. "…And my dad…"

"I didn't know you lost your father," Dr. Holloway sounded surprised and leaned forward, "That must've been hard."

Rigsby pressed his lips together, "Not as hard as you'd think," he said, "He wasn't really a father… I haven't spoken to him in years. Not since the last time he was in prison."

"Oh," Grace's face fell a bit and she nodded. "I see. Well, hopefully tonight you'll find Agent Lisbon. At least that'll be a friend you saved,"

"Yeah… Hopefully…" Rigsby didn't want to admit it, but he really was beginning to lose hope. He felt like they weren't making any progress in the fight against the Master and more people died every single day and there was more suffering in the world than there ever had been before. The whole reason he'd joined the CBI was to help people, the make the world a better place and yet he felt entirely useless in this world. He didn't know what else he could do to help fix things, but what he was doing wasn't working.

~/.\~

"Sir," Sargent Sally Donavan, a tall woman with thick, bushy hair, shook her head, "Should you really be going out this time of night? The Toclafane patrols are going to heavy right now."

Greg Lestrade just shook his head, "I know how to doge them, Donavan. You stay here; look after everyone while I'm gone."

She huffed, "After what happened to Anderson –"

"I'll be careful," the older man assured her. She bit her lip and made a face. She was used to following his orders. After all, he'd been her boss before all this madness with the Toclafane and the Master taking over. But they'd been working for the Master for over a month, staying in one of the Master's sanctioned community areas in London. Or, rather, what was left of London. It wasn't much like the old London these days.

"That's what you said when you and Anderson went out to meet him," she insisted, "And he got himself killed. Look, he's not worth risking our lives over –"

"He's saved our lives a few times too, Donavan," Lestrade pointed out. "Just look after everyone; I'll be back in a few hours."

She sighed, "Fine," she said, "But if anyone comes searching –"

"I'll take the fall for it," he assured her, "He's our best shot. He knows a lot more than we do about what's going on up there." He looked toward the ceiling but Donavan knew he was thinking about the Valiant. She didn't say anything else, but her stomach felt tight as she watched him disappear into the darkness. It had been bad enough losing friends and family in the Decimation, but to lose Anderson a few weeks ago… She didn't like the idea of also losing Lestrade.

Lestrade made his way down the dark, familiar streets, ducking behind dumpsters and trash bins and inside doorways whenever he spotted Toclafane. No humans were out this late – none that were forced to work for the Master anyway. There was a nine o'clock curfew for all people and the ones who were out after nine were usually killed on sight.

He only went a few blocks until he reached the bench Sherlock had told him to wait for him by. It was dark – no street lights were turned on any more and the old bus stop hadn't been used since the Master took over.

Lestrade was anxious as he waited in the dark, every small noise, every gust of wind nearly setting him off. Not that anyone could blame him. They were living in dangerous times; it was risky to be out after dark anymore even if you were caught by Toclafane. The longest five minutes of his life whittled past before he heard a deep, familiar voice behind him and he spun to face the tall, gaunt man.

Sherlock Holmes had certainly looked better.

He was even paler than he had been before, if that were possible, and nearly skeletal in appearance. Not that he'd eaten much before, but Lestrade got the distinct impression that Sherlock went a week or more without eating these days. His clothes were tattered and worn and he had cuts and callouses on his hands and face that hadn't been there before, but despite his weathered appearance his cold eyes shown with the same arrogance and defiance as they always had.

"She's in London again," Sherlock spoke in a deep whisper, quickly passing something dark and heavy into Lestrade's hand. The DI examined it and realized it was a black briefcase.

"What's this for?"

"Give it to her," Sherlock said, "She can't stay for more than a couple of days and then she's going to have to move on. She's already covered most of the United Kingdom by now, she'll be moving east…"

"Two days?" Lestrade swallowed, feeling a bit nervous, "How am I supposed to find her? London's a big city –"

"She's in one of the community houses," Sherlock said, "Near the southern factory."

"But that's miles away from here!" Lestrade started to protest, but Sherlock shook his head, "I can't take it. I'm leaving the country tonight."

"Leaving? For where?"

"Cardiff," he said stiffly, "The Torchwood Hub."

"So that's still secure then?"

"As secure as it can be," Sherlock said, "They still haven't heard from their lost members…"

Lestrade nodded, hefting the case in his hands, "That it then? Nothing else to say?"

Sherlock studied the older man with narrowed eyes, "Be careful," he said finally, "Martha Jones may be our greatest hope in defeating the Master. We need to get her out of England as soon as possible."

Lestrade nodded gravely. He knew enough to know if anyone could beat the Master, it was the Jones girl. He parted from Sherlock quietly and made his way back to the building, keeping the case close to his chest the entire way. He was curious about what it was for, but decided it was probably for the best if he left Martha open it first.

~/.\~

McGee limped over to the desk where Garcia and Abby had everything set up. His leg was healing, but it had been a rough break and he still had trouble putting too much weight down on it. He glanced over at the blond analyst who was angrily pounding away at the keyboard.

"Careful," he said, "You might break it."

She jumped a little, not hearing him come up and sighed, "I know, I know," she said, "I just hate this. We aren't getting anywhere and he's just killing more people every day."

McGee nodded somberly, "Well, with our help we'll crack this thing," he said, "The three of us have to be good for something."

"Besides coffee runs, you mean," Tony interjected from where he was sitting across the wide open space. He was on the beat up couch next to Morgan, the two of them sitting next to a landline phone playing a card game.

McGee made a face at the other man and Abby, who was just coming out the bathroom smirked, "Oh don't be so mean, Tony!" she said, "McGee's helping us with this Archangel thing. What have you done in the past month?"

"Hey! I do stuff!" Tony muttered, "We all take turns going on food runs, remember? Well, expect McGee,"

"And Garcia , Spencer and Ducky," Abby said, "And me. We help in other ways. More important ways."

"Food's not important?" Tony raised a brow and Abby smiled.

"You know…" she sat down next to McGee, "I'm getting bored in here. We should really do something."

"Do something?" Morgan frowned, "Like what? We're in an abandoned building hiding from an alien Hitler. We can't exactly go out and have a few drinks, Abby."

"No," she said, "But we could still do something," she said, "I mean, a game night, eat cake, play Twister! Being all depressed and moping is bad for morale."

"Game night?" Rossi creased his brows, shaking his head, "We're in the middle of what some people think is the apocalypse and you want to have a game night."

"Yes," Abby nodded, "We could play Monopoly or… Sorry!"

"Actually," Ducky chimed in from where he was seated at the small wooden table they usually ate at. "She may have a point. It is important during times of crisis for one to pass the time with trivial fun and games. You know, many board games were actually invented during the Second World War when families hid in bomb shelters during air raids."

"That's true," Reid, who had been in the back area of the building where Jack Hotchner and Jessica Brooks were currently sleeping, nodded eagerly, "They became especially popular during the Blitz in London whenever people were stuck underground for hours waiting out the end of the Hitler's bombs…"

Prentiss snorted and smiled, "Sounds like you were right, Morgan, the Master really is Hitler,"

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by three short taps on the door and everyone fell silent. Tony, Morgan, Rossi, Reid and McGee all reached for the guns that they kept on them at all times and Tony and Morgan slowly approached the door. Three more taps and Tony peeked through the small hole they'd drilled, slowly relaxing, "It's Gibbs!" he announced, pulling the door open.

Gibbs and Hotch both stepped through the door quickly followed by another man and carrying large duffle bags that they immediately dumped on the table.

"Look who we found," Gibbs motioned to the other men, a small smirk on his face. The NCIS team, of course, was familiar with the man from several cases they'd worked with him and the BAU agents knew him well enough themselves.

"Fornell!" Tony seemed surprised to see the other man. After weeks of hearing nothing from him, they'd all assumed he had been killed, yet there he stood, looking weary and tired but definitely alive.

"You're alive!" Abby was actually grinning. Any time they found out someone was still alive was a good day in her book. "But what about…" she trailed off when the other man just shook his head and sighed. No family then.

"Where have you been? How'd you slip under the Master's radar?" McGee asked curiously.

Fornell sat down heavily on the couch and shook his head, "Wasn't easy, to be honest. First thing after the Decimation I checked on… Well, they were… gone. Right about then, the Toclafane showed up and I ran. Hid wherever I could, ran into a few others along the way. It's Hell out there."

"Don't we know it," Gibbs agreed, nodding.

Fornell looked around, "Is this everyone?" he asked, frowning.

"Everyone here," Hotch answered, "My son and sister-in-law are in the back, but we're a small group."

Fornell's eyes roved over the group and he tilted his head toward Gibbs, "What about the Director? Did she get out?"

"As far as I know," Gibbs' voice was a bit hard, "We got her out first thing, but we haven't heard from her since."

"Her name's still on the list," Tony pointed out, "Means she's probably alive."

"Probably," Fornell nodded, a frown on his face as he thought. There was a moment's pause before he took a deep breath and looked between Hotch and Gibbs, "So," he said, "You said you guys knew something important about the Master?"

Gibbs and Hotch exchanged looks and then Gibbs turned to Ducky, "It's a long story," he said, "Ducky tells it best."

~/.\~

When Sam got off the phone with Adam, having set up a meeting place about an hour away from where he and Dean currently were, Dean had been less than happy.

"We can't get sidetracked here, Sam," he insisted, "We were looking –"

"For a safe house we aren't even really sure exists," Sam cut him off, shaking his head. "Dean, look, I know this hard, alright? I get it. But you're the one who always says that family comes first, remember? If this kid really is our brother –"

"Bullshit,"

"Dean!" Sam sighed and clenched his fist, "You know as well as I do, Dad wasn't exactly a monk. It's possible."

"What, so I'm supposed to believe that we have a half-brother he never even told us about?"

"There's a lot of things Dad never told us," Sam pointed out, "Wouldn't surprise me if this is one of 'em. I get that this is suspicious, but don't we at least owe it to the kid to hear him out? He's scared and alone right now Dean!"

"We don't owe him anything Sam, okay? He's not our family! Even if he is Dad's kid, that doesn't make him our family. He didn't live this life like we did and if Dad really was hiding him from us, don't you think it might've been because he didn't want him to have this crap on his shoulders all the time?"

"I don't think he's got a choice anymore, Dean. The world's gone to Hell, in case you missed it. If we really do have a brother out there, the least we could do is protect him,"

Dean still wasn't thrilled about the plan, but he shouldered his duffle bag and gripped a machete tight in one hand before they left the warehouse. They stopped a few miles outside of the town and used the phone Ash had made again to call in. Dean made a point of having Ash look into Adam and find out if he really could be their brother and then they were on their way again.

It was risky just driving around the streets these days, especially in the Impala. The big black car tended to draw attention to itself and both Rufus and Gordon had to force Dean to lock the car up somewhere and use something else. It had nearly killed Dean to part with his Baby. Luckily, their skill with false IDs and Ash's computer genius meant that they were still able to forge most of the documents needed if they were stopped by people.

Toclafane were another story, of course, and they'd already discovered that they could tell very well the difference between authentic passes and fakes. Which meant they dodged the little things at every corner.

The hour long drive passed in fuming silence on Dean's part. Sam studied the map and crossed off another area where they had hoped to find the safe house. There were six red "X"s on the map and Sam was starting to think that either the Master had wiped out the place or it didn't really exist at all.

They got there before Adam did and escaped the confines of the beat up car, staring around the deserted street. It was getting dark out, the sky a dull grey color, and most of this area had been condemned due to nearly irreparable damage. They waited almost fifteen minutes before the soft glow of headlights caught their eye.

Dean gripped his machete tight behind his back and Sam unlocked the safety on his gun and they were both still as the car rolled to a stop in front of them. Two people got out of the car and Sam felt his stomach twist a bit. One was a teenager, almost definitely Adam. He was tall and thin and sported several cuts on his face. The other was a tall, dark skinned man holding a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

When he spotted them, he raised the gun and flashed a bright smile, "Well look at this…" he said, cocking his head to the side, "Sam and Dean Winchester in the flesh. Never thought I'd see the day…"

~/.\~

The desert. Owen was bloody sick of the desert. The sun was high overhead during the day, beating down on them constantly and at night it was fucking freezing. And they'd been out here a month. An entire month.

Oh sure, they travelled, but they hadn't gotten very far in a month what with their sad lack of supplies for food and water. They'd nearly died of dehydration in the first couple of weeks, but luckily they'd managed to make it to a town with actual people before that happened.

Unluckily, the town of people had all been forced into working for Saxon – who was calling himself "the Master" now – and they were nearly killed by those floating black balls that they learned were called Toclafane. Gwen had ended up needed several stitches in her leg after the nearly lethal attack and the townspeople hadn't been exceptionally willing to help them hide. They were gracious enough to provide them with food and water, but only because John was able to help some of the more injured people who needed it and Jake happened to be fairly fluent in the language.

Now, they were all curled into a small cave around a fire that they weren't sure was a good idea to set, but they were freezing and they didn't have extra blankets. They'd passed through a couple of other towns like the one before, but it was always the same. They weren't willing to hide them from the Master, but were kind enough to share food and water and sometimes allow them to clean up.

They heard about safe houses where people had gone underground to hide from the Master, but so far hadn't found any and didn't expect to. Not out here in the desert anyway. Maybe in places where people could hide more easily, which was what they were heading to. Owen and Gwen had told them about Torchwood and the Hub and Jake and John both agreed that seemed the place to start.

So they were heading that way, but it was incredibly, impossibly slow and they weren't totally sure where they were anyway.

Jake had his hands stuck as close to the fire as possible and he was still shivering a bit.

"So," he said, "How much farther d'ya reckon it'll be?"

Gwen shifted from where she was sitting against the cave wall and shrugged, "Can't be too much farther. We've been travelling at a steady pace for a month and we just left… what was the name again?"

"Maymana," Jake said, "We're pretty near the Afghanistan-Turkmenistan border right now… I think."

Owen sighed, "It's going to take forever at this pace,"

Gwen hated to agree, but they really were moving quite slowly and she would have much rather they were in Wales by now. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. "Well… maybe we should try travelling at night. We'd cover more ground that way at least."

"Yeah," John nodded, "But the Toclafane are everywhere at night and there aren't a lot of places for to hole up while we're in the desert…"

"What we really need is a miracle," Jake said, "Be nice if that angel friend of yours would zap us right to your base,"

Owen snorted, "Would be nice," he said, "But instead, the bloody ass ships us off to Afghanistan instead. What fun." He rolled his eyes and Gwen sighed. They'd all gotten used to Owen's complaining. Hell, Jake sometimes joined him in bitching. It was certainly not fair to be stuck out in the desert while the rest of the world had apparently been taken over by a dictator and they had no idea where Tosh and Ianto were.

"Do you suppose he really was an angel?" John asked suddenly, frowning thoughtfully. "Like from the Bible, I mean,"

"Dunno," Gwen seemed to think about that, "If he was maybe God told him to send us here for some reason,"

Owen snorted, "Then God's an asshole,"

"Owen!"

"What?" Owen glared at her, "Look, I don't care if he's God or if he's the fucking Pope or the Queen of England – if he shipped us out here in the middle of the desert without any explanation then he's a dick."

Jake grinned a bit, "Can't argue there,"

Gwen however, looked slightly offended, "You shouldn't brush off something like that, Owen,"

"What, are you a Christian?" Owen sobered up a bit then, studying her carefully. The subject had never come up before.

"No," she said, "I mean… I don't know, but if there really is a God don't you think you should treat him with some respect?"

Owen snorted again, shaking his head. "No," he said, "If he can't respect us, I don't. Have you looked around lately Gwen? The world's going to shit and if God's real, he's just sitting on his arse, watching it happen!"

Gwen still looked annoyed, but instead she just shrugged, "I doubt he was really an angel anyway," she said, "I mean, he was probably some kind of alien or something…"

Jake laughed, shaking his head. "Man, you know the world's gone nuts whenever alien sounds more plausible than angel…"

"It is not plausible," a stern, monotone voice spoke from the mouth of the cave and the four of them jumped. "I told you before, I am an Angel of the Lord."

Gwen and Owen were on their feet immediately, Owen livid and extremely pissed.

"Angel of the Lord my arse!" he snapped, stepping toward Castiel and prodding him viciously in the chest, "You shipped us into the middle of the fucking desert without any sort of explanation!"

Castiel cast his eyes downward, staring at the finger and then looking back up at Owen's face. John and Jake watched in silence while Gwen moved around to stand closer to Owen and Castiel.

"That was not me," he said.

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked before Owen could explode again.

"I am being monitored. We are not supposed to interfere, I told you. Whenever I transported you, Zachariah intersected and placed you where you landed."

"Who the Hell is Zachariah? And why did he zap us here?!" Owen snapped, "What was the point?"

Castiel clenched his jaw a bit and shook his head, "He hoped you would die."

"What?" Gwen sounded outraged, "He… was trying to kill us? What did we do?"

"Nothing, it was me," Castiel's voice was a bit strained; he wasn't used to have to explain so much. "He was trying to teach me a lesson for interfering,"

"Then what are you doing here now?" Owen demanded, "What's going on? Do you know what's happening –"

"I was able to bargain with them," he said, "After a month, you are surviving and working toward getting home. Michael finally allowed me to return to you and take you to your base."

"To Cardiff?" Gwen sounded excited then, "You're going to take us to the Hub?"

"Yes,"

"What about us?" Jake spoke for the first time, standing slowly and eyeing the unblinking angel warily.

Castiel looked at the two soldiers and frowned, "You were not part of the deal…"

"We can't just leave them!" Gwen protested, "It's not fair. You broke the rules before, right? Break them again!"

Castiel seemed conflicted and Owen crossed his arms, "Look, it's just two more people, right? That's not such a big deal. You can take them with us. Besides, if you're really trying to help, then saving them would be a good thing, right?"

He still seemed uncertain, but he nodded slowly, "I suppose…" he said, "But we must all go together so that I can make sure you arrived before I return to Heaven. Take my hand." He held out both his arms and the four of them latched on nervously. They forgot to grab their bags, but that hardly mattered because a second later they were in the cave anymore and instead were standing in underground Hub.

Gwen couldn't stop smiling as she gazed around the familiar place and she turned to thank Castiel, but he was already gone.

~/.\~

Jack was tugging on his chains in frustration. He had been locked up deep in the bowels of the massive ship for longer than he cared to think about, spending most of his time alone or being tortured. It was muggy and hot and his clothes were nearly soaked through with sweat and his face was greasy and dirty with dried blood and oil. He hadn't eaten in nearly a week and could already start to feel himself weakening.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd starved to death, but he was willing to bet the Master would make this time far more unpleasant than it would have been otherwise. Not that it was the first time he'd died on this ship either. In the last month he'd died four times. Three of those times being on live TV while the Master grinned and laughed and the Doctor watched in horror.

He had to say, he was glad the Doctor was holding it together, but he didn't know how much longer the Joneses could last. Francine was cracking already. It was hard enough knowing one daughter was out there, travelling the world on some dangerous mission, and watching another be tortured and used, but she'd also watched her son die. From where Jack was standing, Francine Jones was one of the bravest women alive at the moment.

He was actually happy whenever the guards came down and unchained him that day. They kept their guns on him, though it hardly bothered him anymore. Death by gunshot was a quick and relatively painless death compared to some that he'd died. He was just glad to be out of the chains, but he could really use something to eat right then.

They led him up to the conference room where the Master seemed to be busy with Spencer and the Doctor. Jack cringed at the sight of them. He hadn't seen either of them for several days and it was amazing how much worse someone could look after just a few days.

The Doctor was pale and gaunt and bruised and Spencer was even worse – clearly beaten and tortured beyond what a human should be expected to endure. At that moment, Spencer's hands were bound over his head and his feet were dangling just a few inches above the floor. The Master had his suit jacket off and was wielding a whip in his hand. Jack flinched at the bloody crisscrosses that littered the younger man's back.

The Doctor was gagged and bound a few feet away, watching with a fire in his eyes that almost scared Jack. He was screaming something through the gag, but it was impossible to know what. Lucy Saxon was watching from the table, but unlike the last few times Jack had seen her, there was no oddly out of place smile on her lips. She flinched at every whimper Spencer let out and kept her lips pressed tightly together.

Jack frowned, "You just get a real kick out of beating people when they're all tied up, huh? Is that some kind if kink?"

The Master lowered his whip and turned to grin at Jack, "Oh, I almost forgot how pathetic your little remarks were, Jack," he said, eyes glittering, "I've missed them!"

He stepped away from Reid and nodded to the guards, who rushed to release the injured young man. Jack winced when Spencer nearly collapsed right onto the ground, only being caught by the guards' quick hands. They gently carried him away and laid him on his front, but none of them dared move to bandage the wounds, not without the Master's say so.

The Master's eyes were on Jack the entire time he was herded to the spot Reid had been moments before. Jack glared at him while his wrists were bound in manacles and put on the same bravado he'd been using since day one, smirking as the Master lowered the whip and practically skipped to where the Doctor was.

He yanked the gag down and the Doctor started to say something, but the Master pressed a hand over his lips, shaking his head. "Now, before you go off on another of your sanctimonious little rants about how I'm evil and whatnot… How about you end this all right here, hmm? Tell me what Miss Jones is up to and we can call it a day…"

He lowered his hand and the Doctor took several panting breaths, shaking his head, "It wouldn't end anything…" he said, "You enjoy it too much."

The Master grinned, "I suppose I do," he nodded, "But it's a pity you won't even try to save your friends."

"I'm not the one hurting them," the Doctor's voice was defiant and angry, but he didn't feel like he was being honest. As far as he was concerned, this was his fault and his mess to clean up. And yet Martha was the one doing the work. He only hoped that this would all be fixed in the end.

The Master didn't seem too incredibly bothered by the Doctor's refusal and shoved the gag back in place before walking over to the table where an array of weapons sat. Knives, saws, machetes and guns and weapons that weren't even human in origin. He eventually settled on a large, gleaming knife and Jack tensed a bit when he approached him with a manic grin. This was going to hurt…

~/.\~

A/N: Well that was certainly a chapter, huh? But I'm mostly amazed that I got every fandom in there (despite not including Tosh and Ianto) and managed to get it in roughly 6,000 words. Holy crap that's gotta be a record.

Also, a quick note: I changed the amount of time Martha spent at the Hub. Instead of two weeks, it was less than a week (probably five or six days). As was pointed out by KMW1968 it would be impractical for Martha to stay in one place for that long when she's got to travel the world in a year.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter guys! Please let me know what you think!