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: So, first thanks to those of you who reviewed! I love you guys and your support means a lot to me! :D

Second, I'm sorry this is late. Thanksgiving took up an entire week of my writing time, but Christmas? Christmas took up two weeks and then some. *sigh* I think I hate holidays… Ah well. I had a great Christmas! Hope you all did too and Happy New Year as well!

Now, onwards to the chapter! We get some actions. Not as much as I thought and I kinda hate action scenes and we get a peek at Crowley as well! Yay! Enjoy!

Please, please review! Even if you hate it, please review and tell me what you think!

Armageddon:

Part III: The Year of Hell

Chapter Ten

Fornell ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. "This Master character is looking more and more difficult to kill,"

"We'll find a way," Gibbs said, "Everyone's got a weakness."

"And with pretty much everyone else out there trying to find a way to kill this son of a bitch, we'll figure out what it is eventually," Tony said.

"What I can't figure out is why did he keep the Doctor alive?" Reid frowned, crossing his legs, "I would have thought he'd want to eliminate anyone who could potentially pose a threat and the Doctor, being another Time Lord, would certainly be a threat to the Master. He knows their weaknesses and has the same abilities as the Master."

Ducky frowned, "I think that may be a bit personal, Dr. Reid," he said, "The Doctor and the Master have a rather peculiar relationship. Granted, I don't know much about the Master, but I'd wager he's keeping the Doctor alive for some reason."

"And besides," Morgan said, "You've seen the guy. He sure as hell doesn't look like a threat to anyone, does he? It's hard to believe that man has ever saved anyone before…"

"Yeah, but if the stories are true, the Master is making a mistake not killing him," Prentiss said, "The Doctor doesn't seem like someone you'd want to underestimate."

"What I wanna know," Rossi said, "Is how Reid's doppelganger got on the ship. He was there even when the President was killed, but that doesn't make any sense at all…"

Reid leaned forward, a frown on his face, "I've been thinking about that," he said, "Ducky said that the Doctor was a time traveler, right? So, maybe that me is me, simply from another point in time. It would explain why my name is on the list, wouldn't it? If that's a different version of me… I just can't figure out how I would've ended up crossing paths with the Doctor…"

Abby grinned, "Well that's obvious, Spence," she said, "Ducky said the Doctor was some kind of genius, obviously he'd be friends with another genius."

"She's got a point," Prentiss said, smiling, "And it makes sense… Some later version of you ended up with the Doctor and for whatever reason you were with him when the Master took over."

"But does that mean that this all ends then?" Garcia asked, "I mean, if the Master doesn't get defeated then there wouldn't be a future version of our junior G-man to get trapped on the ship, right? Or does time even work like that?" she frowned, tilting her head. "Ugh, this is too complicated."

"No, no, I think Penelope's got a point," McGee said, "If there's a future version of Reid that means that he at least lives long enough to meet the Doctor and come back in time. Maybe they came back to 2007 to try and stop the Master…"

"Obviously that failed," Morgan frowned.

"But we don't really know how time works," Reid pointed out, "In science fiction movies it's always fluid, constantly changing and shifting with each little choice and movement. Wouldn't travelling back in time to such a major event cause some sort of paradox?"

Hotch cast a fond smile over the group before quietly slipping off down the hall to where Jessica and Jack were sleeping. He tapped gently on the door before entering and smiled at Jessica from where she sat on the bed next to Jack. He was sound asleep, curled up tightly in the blankets. Hotch was a bit amazed at how much Jack had grown in the last month and always marveled at how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping.

"A lot of noise out there," Jessica said, glancing up at him, "Anything interesting?"

"We found another agent," Hotch said, "Tobias Fornell. He and Gibbs are apparently pretty close."

Jessica smiled a bit, "And here I was thinking Gibbs didn't have friends,"

Hotch laughed and knelt next to the bed, running his fingers through Jack's hair and sighing heavily, "He got to sleep alright?"

She nodded, "Like always," she said, "This little boy can sleep anywhere…" She looked down at Jack with a fond expression and Hotch felt his chest tighten a bit. He hated that Jack had to live in this world, without his mother. He couldn't imagine how terrifying it must be for a child and he didn't want his son to have to grow up in some post-apocalyptic horror story.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, "It's gonna be alright, Buddy," he whispered. "We're gonna fix this…"

~/.\~

It didn't take very long to get Sherlock up to speed. Of course, it helped that he was incredibly adept at reading people. Tosh was convinced that even without their military fatigues, Sherlock would've guessed that John and Jake were soldiers and he somehow knew that John was a medical officer.

When Gwen and Owen related the story about Castiel teleporting them, Sherlock scoffed – as he had with Tosh and Ianto – at the idea of him being an angel. It seemed to be the one thing Owen and Sherlock agreed on fully. John and Jake were a bit more inclined to believe it really had been an angel, but both were quick to point out how scared they'd been of the man.

"Well, angels are supposed to be scary, aren't they?" Tosh asked, frowning. "Warriors of Heaven and all of that."

"Yeah," Gwen nodded, "But I mean, you remember him. He didn't look like anything except a man… I think it was the fact that he never blinked that creeped me out." She shuddered a bit and frowned, thinking back.

"Nonsense," Sherlock waved his hand, "I think if there were Angels there would surely be more evidence to support such a claim. As it stands, it's far more likely that this Castiel was some unknown form of extraterrestrial."

"Hold on," John frowned, "There's no evidence angels don't exist and this guy said that he was an angel. What else could've taken us from Afghanistan to Wales so quickly?"

"A Vortex Manipulator," Sherlock said quickly.

"A what?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to explain, looking just a bit annoyed, before pausing and frowning,

"Did you hear that?" his voice was low and he turned around, pale eyes scanning the area around him and shooting up towards the ceiling. Gwen, who had been about to pour herself another cup of coffee frowned.

"Hear what?" Jake hissed, following Sherlock's example and keeping his voice low.

Sherlock held up a hand, extending his index finger and shushing them. There was a long moment of silence and then they all heard it too. A faint humming noise and then a rumbling sound. Eyes darted around the room, wide in fear as they edged toward the door. Suddenly, a loud, horrible screeching met their ears and they screamed.

Sherlock spotted them first and darted toward the exit as fast as his legs would carry him, screaming about the sounds of metal-tearing-metal. "It's the Toclafane! Run!"

There was chaos everywhere as the Toclafane entered the lab and their rotating blades began smashing things off tables and desks. The computers were the first to go, landing across the room in a heap with the screens shattered. Occasionally one of the Toclafane shot forth a laser that left behind a blackened, charred area nearly three feet in diameter. There were four Toclafane total and they managed to nearly destroy most of the Hub in a matter of seconds.

"Where are the weapons?" Gwen's voice called above the noise and Tosh ducked under one of the black creatures and ran, pointing toward the lab.

"We left them outside the medical area!" she called, screaming as a blade sliced near her arm. Owen was suddenly by her side, tugging her down and dragging her away. He held a gun in his hand, but didn't fire it, remembering what they had been told about the Toclafane.

"This way!" he covered Tosh as he dragged her away, toward the exit. They nearly ran headfirst into Ianto and John, who were shoving whatever they could into a bag – guns, knives, a laptop, what looked to be a handheld radio – John slung the bag over his shoulder and looked up, squinting and wincing at the noise.

"Where's Jake and Gwen?" he called, frowning.

"Medical bay!" Tosh had to yell over the screeching. Before John could say anything, there was an explosion and Sherlock was there in front of them, face littered with tiny cuts that he didn't seem to even be aware of.

"This way!" Sherlock called, "We need to get out of here, quickly!"

"We can't leave Gwen and Jake!" Owen protested, turning back. There was smoke from whatever had exploded that made it difficult to see anything. Owen started to go forward toward the medical area but Sherlock's hand on his arm stopped him.

"If we don't leave now, we'll all be dead," he said, "Is that what you want?"

"I'm not leaving them!" John shoved the bag into Ianto's hands and took off toward the medical bay, Owen breaking away and running after him. Sherlock scowled and shook his head, turning to frown at Tosh.

"You never mentioned your friends were idiots with no self-preservation,"

Tosh started to argue when Owen and Jake suddenly pushed back through the area, Owen screaming at them to go as he tugged a limp Gwen at his side. Jake was supporting John, who looked to be bleeding rather heavily from his left leg, but Jake strength allowed them to move much more quickly.

"Can we go, now?!" Sherlock nearly had to shout, but the words weren't necessary as they all ran toward the exit. The Toclafane's shiny blade and bright lights peeked through the smoke and flames erupted, but they didn't seem to have much of an effect on the creatures as they flew after them.

They burst out onto an empty street in the early morning. There were no clouds and the sun was bright as Sherlock led the way, screaming at them to run even as Ianto and Owen struggled to support Gwen and Jake ran as fast as he dared with the injured John. The Toclafane followed them for several streets before Sherlock ducked into a side street that was swathed in shadows and before Tosh's eyes, he disappeared.

She took a step forward and suddenly found herself tumbling. It was a short fall, only about two feet, but it took the breath out of her. Sherlock was dusting himself off and Tosh was quickly followed by Owen, Gwen and Ianto. Owen just barely managed to hold onto Gwen and John and Jake nearly fell right on top of them. John's leg buckled underneath him and he let out a grunted yell before Jake helped him back up.

Tosh got her first good look at Gwen and grimaced. The dark haired woman was clearly unconscious; the only thing keeping her upright was Owen's tight grip. One side of her hair was matted with blood like she'd slammed her head against something hard and her left arm was hanging at a terribly gruesome angle.

"I-Is she alright?" Tosh's voice was barely above a whisper and she looked up at Owen's clouded, dark eyes.

"She's fine," he snapped, shifting and lifting Gwen completely into his arms. "She's fine."

Gwen's head lolled to the side and Tosh couldn't take her eyes off of her. She was pale and if she was breathing at all, it was very shallow. Something inside of her tightened to the point of breaking and she felt tears burning her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

"Let's follow Sherlock," Owen said harshly, pushing past Tosh and Ianto and heading down the dark tunnel they found themselves in. Jake exchanged wary glances with them before heading forward with them, half-dragging John along.

~/.\~

Adam's question hung in the air for a long second. Sam wasn't sure how to respond without sounding like some nutcase. He remembered the times he'd insisted that people deserved the truth, that he and Dean shouldn't lie to the people they were helping. He'd been a lot different back then, of course. Back then, the secrets and the lies made him feel alienated and guilty. After that first year back hunting with Dean, Sam had realized pretty quickly that people didn't react well to the truth, even when they asked to be told the truth.

He glanced over at Dean, who looked even more reluctant to speak than Sam did. Dean was not going to be the one to tell Adam the truth, that was for sure. Sam turned back to face the teenager and really studied him. In the darkness it wasn't easy to make out much of Adam's appearance. He was blond and had blue eyes instead of the dark hair and green eyes that their father had. He was tall – nearly as tall as Dean – and lanky like Sam had been around his age. He searched the features for any sign of their dad, but it wasn't immediately apparent. He thought he could see a little of John in the way Adam held himself, tall and stiff. There was a hard, flinty look in his blue eyes that reminded Sam a lot of his dad and maybe he could see a little resemblance in his tight jaw.

Sam couldn't quit explain it, but he felt close to Adam somehow, already. Like he owed the kid an explanation, like it was his responsibility to make sure that Adam was alright, that he knew how to protect himself. He wasn't sure where that feeling came from, but for the first time he thought he might understand why Dean was such a pain about watching Sam's every move, sometimes hovering over him uncomfortably despite the fact that Sam could take care of himself very well.

Finally, Sam took a breath and responded,

"It's a long story," he said, "Probably a bad idea to be holding this meeting out here in the open. It'll be daylight soon and we're gonna need cover."

Henricksen was clearly not happy about that, grunting and shoving himself to his feet, ignoring the gun Dean was still holding on him. "No way," he said, "We aren't going anywhere with you two."

"Henricksen –"

"Adam," the older man shook his head, "No. You can't trust these two. They're expert liars and manipulators. It's what they do. We've got a string of witnesses to prove it."

Adam's jaw flexed and Sam thought he definitely saw the shadow of his father in that expression. He almost smiled when the teen turned and shook his head, staring down the FBI agent. He breathed through his nostrils and clenched his fists, shaking his head.

"You said you didn't have any evidence that Sam had killed anyone,"

Sam felt a jolt of surprise at that, then mild relief. He knew after St. Louis it was a miracle he hadn't been suspected of aiding Dean in the murders. That was probably because, at the time, they'd assumed Sam was a victim and Dean was "dead" for all intents and purposes. Of course, after they'd been arrested again in Baltimore, he'd just assumed they would suspect him of being an accomplice in the St. Louis murders. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

"Nothing we could prove," Henricksen said, his voice stiff. "That doesn't mean Sam isn't a suspect in several other federal offenses."

Sam sighed, "We're not the bad guys," he said, looking over at Dean.

His older brother smirked a bit, but it was a dark smile that sent chills down Sam's spine. He'd never thought he'd see the day when he was afraid of what Dean might do, but lately he felt like he waiting for him to explode at any moment.

"If it wasn't for us, a whole lot more people would be dead," Dean said, "We're out there risking our asses to save people and you're wasting your time trying to stop us."

Henricksen just sneered at him, "Oh, sure, I forgot. It was a monster –"

"Shape shifter," Dean corrected him, that same dark, smug expression still on his face. Sam shifted himself to the left just a little so that he was closer to Dean.

"Whatever," Henricksen said, "You can spout all the devil crap you want, Dean, that doesn't make it true,"

"I trust them," Adam said, "And you said yourself, there isn't any proof Sam ever hurt anyone. Can you at least trust him?"

Henricksen turned his eyes toward the younger Winchester and frowned. Truth be told, he wasn't exactly sure what he thought about Sam's involvement. It was clear that he and Dean had been dragged across the USA by their father, never staying in one place for more than a few months.

Dean was the obvious sociopath, never got along with anybody, dropped out of school at seventeen, got into fights… Sam was different. There were a few minor school fights on his record, but he had friends, he was a good student and he'd been on the fast track to a law degree before his long-time girlfriend was killed.

He'd always found it funny that Jessica Moore's death happened right around the time Dean reappeared and Sam vanished. Part of him was inclined to believe Dean had killed Jessica, but there was no proof that it was anything more than a freak accident. So far, Sam's involvement in any crime seemed to always been the accomplice and never in anything violent. Grave desecrations, petty theft and credit card fraud, but never the murders. Though Henricksen was pretty sure if they dug deeper they'd surely find something that proved Sam's involvement.

From the outside, it never did look right. The behavioral analysis team who'd given a preliminary profile on the Winchester family had even said as much. Something wasn't quite right and they knew even less about John Winchester than they did about his sons. Henricksen was convinced that if he could figure out what kind of man John was, he'd figure out what motivated the brothers' crimes as well.

He realized Sam was looking him right in the eye and that surprised him. He shook his head, "No," he answered, "I don't trust either of them. But we do need to get to cover before we're spotted.."

"We passed a place a few miles down the road," Sam said, glancing sideways at Dean, "Trust us or not, I don't care. We've had plenty of opportunities to shoot you and we didn't take them."

Adam seemed to trust them no matter what Henricksen told him and there was no way Henricksen was letting Adam go anywhere alone with those two. "Fine," he said, "Lead the way…" he waved them toward their car and they all four climbed in, this time Sam behind the wheel while Dean sat in the passenger seat holding Henricksen's gun on him.

"Is that really necessary?" Sam muttered, frowning.

Dean gave him a cold look, "Hell yes," he said, "You want him to attack us because he thinks we're some kind of psychos?"

Sam pressed his lips together and didn't say anything, but he was silently praying that Dean wouldn't do anything to piss off the older man.

It wasn't a long drive, thankfully, but it was tense with Dean and Henricksen staring each other down the entire time.

As they pulled off the old gravel road, the dim light of the moon and faint greying of the sky that signaled dawn their only light, Sam spotted the figures. A man and a young woman standing the middle of the road about a hundred yards ahead of them. The man had his back to them and didn't appear to have seen them, but the woman's eyes got wide at the sight of the car and Sam thought he saw tear tracks down her face.

They stopped the car and climbed out, Dean and Sam both gripping their guns. Sam hissed at Adam to stand back as they approached.

"Everything alright here?" Sam asked when they were close enough. The man had turned to look at them, a smirk on his face. He was dressed in a neat black suit that was far, far too clean and taken care of for someone who'd been living in hell for the past month. Sam tilted his head and tightened his finger on the trigger of the gun.

The woman just sobbed and the man kept smiling, speaking with a smooth English accent.

"Well, this is quite a turn of events," he said, eyes flicking from Sam to Dean. In the dim light, Sam couldn't quite make out his features but suddenly the man's smirk widened and his eyes glowed red for just a moment. "Dean and Sam Winchester in the flesh. Never thought I'd get the honor."

Three shots rang out in the night and the woman continued to sob.

~/.\~

Dr. Holloway was woken from her light sleep by a commotion in the common area. Heart pounding, she slid out of her makeshift bed and hurriedly checked on the children that were all sleeping soundly in the room. She sighed in relief and felt around for a moment until her shaky hand wrapped around the butt of a pistol. She'd only ever fired a gun once or twice at her own insistence. She wanted to be prepared if she ever needed to use the weapon, but she had hoped she wouldn't.

Easing her way into the area, she held the gun unsteadily, heart thudding in her chest as she spotted unfamiliar people. It wasn't until she caught sight of Patrick's messy blond curls and heard Wayne's voice telling someone to stay steady that she relaxed and entered the room fully.

"What's going on?"

"Grace!" Rigsby turned at the sound of her voice and quickly ushered her over to where the group of people were gathered, "Perfect, I was about to go wake you up. She needs help…" He motioned toward the couch where Grace finally saw a young blond woman. She was pale and unconscious, her left leg blood and wrapped in cloth bandages.

Immediately, Grace shut out every other thought, passing the gun into Craig's hands and demanding scissors, water and her medical kit. They didn't have much in the place, unfortunately. It wasn't easy to get their hands on medical supplies, but she had to hope it would be enough.

Van Pelt was quick to bring her the things and Grace made everyone step back. She heard O'Laughlin say he was going to check on the kids and Van Pelt and Rigsby quickly followed, leaving only the strangers and Patrick behind as she worked on cutting the woman's pants leg off to get a better look at her wound. It was a nasty gash, but thankfully not as deep as she had feared. It looked like it had missed any major arteries, but she had clearly lost a lot of blood already.

She was well aware of the anxious eyes on her as she worked, cleaning the wound and doing what she could to stitch it up. Not for the first time she wished that they had the equipment to give blood transfusions. There was still a chance that the blood loss could be too great for the young woman to survive.

Grace wrapped a clean bandage around her leg and sat back on her heels, breathing a sigh before looking up at the others.

"That's all I can do for now," she said, "We'll have to wait and see what happens. Her pulse is still weak, but she's breathing at least…"

The two younger men were eyeing the blond woman anxiously, but the older man stood. He had a tired, weary look on his face as he sighed, "Thank you, Doctor…"

"Grace Holloway," she said, smiling just a bit.

He nodded, "Henry Spencer,"

She studied him and his companions for a moment before turning away and packing up her kit, "You should really get some rest," she said, "There not much we can do but wait and watch at the moment. There are extra blankets down the hall on the right and you can sleep pretty much anywhere you want. I'm sure Wayne or Craig will introduce you to everyone in the morning…" She turned to head back to her room when the youngest of them stopped her.

"Hey, wait!" he frowned, "There wouldn't happen to be a guy named Burton Guster here?" His wide eyes were almost desperate as he stared at her, "He's a friend…"

Grace shook her head sadly, "No, I don't think so," she said, "You can try asking the others though; they might've run into him." She glanced at Patrick, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the young woman. She pressed her lips together, starting to ask him if he was alright, but the distant look on his face stopped her and she sighed again, heading back to her bed to get some rest.

~/.\~

The Doctor was almost positive that the Master lowered the temperature in the conference room on purpose. It was freezing in the room and he and Spencer didn't have much in to keep them warm except a few thin layers of clothing. It had been quiet most of the day. It gave the Doctor and uneasy feeling. Usually the Master was in and out and there were always guards and other people. Lucy Saxon rarely made appearances and when she did, she didn't speak.

Reid didn't talk much either, at least not proper conversation. He'd make remarks or sometimes voice concerns about the Jones family, Jack or his team down below. At the moment, he was hugging himself, hazel eyes darting around the room. He was paler than he had been before, his eyes seemed to have shrunken into his head and he had dark, bruise like circles under them.

"What do you think he's doing?" Reid glanced over at the Doctor, "Something must be going on for the Master to be gone all day."

The Doctor nodded, a grim look on his face. "And I doubt it's anything good."

"Martha's been careful," Reid said, "He can't have found her yet, could be?"

"No," the Doctor shook his head quickly, though that had been the first fear that had popped into his mind. He didn't want to allow the thought more room to grow into full blown worry. Martha was smart and had so far evaded the Master. He had to believe that she would be able to continue to do so. They were nowhere near ready yet.

When the Doctor grew quiet, Reid turned to stare at him anxiously, "How is it going?" he asked quietly, lowering his voice even though there was no one around to hear. "…with Archangel?"

The Doctor forced a smile that was more a grimace, "Slowly," he admitted. "The Master's not an idiot, even if he is insane. I can't make myself too obvious while I work my way in. We've still got a while though, before this ends. I'll get there."

Before Reid could say anything else, the Master and two guards suddenly burst into the room. The Master looked absolutely furious, though it was impossible to know why. His eyes flickered over to Reid and the Doctor and a horrifying smirk lit his features. He pointed a Reid and the guards moved quickly, clearly aware of the Master's ill temper and not wanting to do anything to turn his anger on them.

"Take him to the back," he said, his voice surprising steady and even despite the heated look.

"Wait a minute!" The Doctor rose up to his knees, tugging at the bonds on his wrists as the guards dragged a struggling Spencer out of the room. "Where are you taking him? What are you doing?! Stop!"

The Master, who was halfway to the door, turned and smirked at him, "Calm down, Doctor," he said, "You'll get your little pet back. I'm just going to spend a bit of alone time with him. Nothing to worry about."

The Doctor's hearts thudded hard in his chest as the doors shut loudly behind the Master and he screamed, a pained, horrified expression on his face.

"Spencer!"

~/.\~

Jack wished he were free so that he could pace. His legs ached from standing in the same position all day and all night. But the Master was apparently annoyed at the other escape attempts and had decided that this was the best way to make sure that they didn't happen again. Frustrated, he tugged on the manacles and shouted angrily at the ceiling.

Francine, Tish and Clive, who were all confined to the basement as well, didn't even bother looking up as he screamed. They'd gotten used to Jack venting his frustration at the empty air. Sometimes they even welcomed it. At least it meant they were all resigned to this fate. Fighting back openly wasn't often a good idea, but they fought back in little ways, anyway that they could even if it didn't really do anything to hinder the Master.

The sound of heels clicking on the metal floors alerted them to Lucy Saxon's arrival. Francine tensed and squared her shoulders, Clive stood and pushed Tish behind him and Jack stopped tugging on the chains, glaring straight ahead.

Surprisingly, Lucy was alone. She was pale and Jack noticed the faintest traces of a bruise on her jaw. He tried to muster up enough feeling to be concerned, but he couldn't. Her empty, cold eyes scanned the cell and then she peeked over her should and for the first time in a while Jack saw a sliver of real emotion in her eyes. Fear.

"I shouldn't be here," she said, her voice a low whisper, "But Harold is very unhappy…" Jack wasn't sure why she insisted on calling him "Harold" or sometimes "Harry" but she never did call him the Master, ever.

"Your friends," she turned those cold eyes directly on Jack, "the ones from Torchwood, they're alive."

"What?"

"Harold's furious. He sent Toclafane to your base, but they escaped…" she hesitated and looked down, "I thought you would like to know."

She started to turn and leave and Jack called out, "Wait!"

She paused and Jack frowned. He wasn't sure why he'd called out to her, honestly, but she turned around with an expectant expression.

"…Why are you telling me this?"

There was a long pause before she lifted one should and let it drop, her voice as flat as usual when she responded. "Because they're your friends. And they're alive." Her lips twitched for a second and she took a deep breath.

"People are fighting back, you know. More than Harold will ever let on. I think they might win."

Clive and Francine glanced to Jack with bewildered expressions, but Jack wasn't sure what to say any more than they did. Lucy turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the floors as she went. Jack frowned, swallowing roughly and thinking over Lucy's words. His team was alive. They'd escaped. He felt his chest swell with relief, a small inkling of hope managing to work its way into him.

At the very least, they were still fighting.

~/.\~

A/N: So, as I said, I hate writing action scenes so I hope that the Torchwood hub scene didn't suck too much. *sighs*

And I know it's a bit of a stretch having Crowley in the same body as he was when he was introduced in season 5, but he's already been in the guy for at least 3 years anyway, likely longer so I figured "What the hell?" and decided he had to still be Mark Sheppard in my head.

And correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think we ever see Crowley flashing his demon eyes… Not that I remember at least. However, since all the Crossroads Demons we see have red eyes, and Crowley, at this point in time is "Kind of the Crossroads" I figured his eyes would be red.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Please, please review guys! Love it, hate it, wanna set it on fire I don't care, just please review!