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: And finally I'm back with a new chapter. Partly, the delay was because of school work and partly it was because my muse became obsessed with updating my other fic, "Of Love Songs and Old Movies" and I wrote like 5 or 6 chapters inside of two weeks for it. Which amazed me to no end.

But anyway. New chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!

(Also, holy crap! Over 100,000 words! That's a record for me!)

Armageddon:

Part III: The Year of Hell

Chapter Thirteen

Martha awake to someone gently shaking her shoulder, hearing her name being gently whispered. She scrunched her face up and tried to shove the hand away for a moment, muttering to herself.

"Not now, Mum," she grumbled.

"Mum?" the voice rose to a higher pitch, "Martha, you're dreaming." She was suddenly being shaken harder and her eyes snapped open.

"Oh gosh!" she sat up so fast she nearly knocked down the other woman bending down over her. Shaking, she ran a hand through her hair, the last warm memories of her dream vanishing as she looked around the destroyed lobby of the Britannia Hotel where she had slept the night before.

The woman stumbled back a few steps, "Sorry," she said. "Are you alright, Martha?" a gentle hand was placed on her shoulder for a second before it was awkwardly pulled away and Martha looked up, blinking into the familiar face.

"Molly?" she had to scrub her eyes a few more times to make sure that she wasn't seeing things. Nope. Standing in front of her was definitely Molly Hooper, the skinny young woman she'd gone to medical school with. Her brows scrunched together in confusion.

"What the hell are you doing in Portugal?"

"Oh," Molly blinked, looking around awkwardly, "Well, I'm sure you know how it is these days. The Master has every doctor travelling around. There are a lot of people out here that need healing. I got sent here."

"…You're working for the Master?"

Molly pressed her lips together, "Sort of… I mean, well, not willingly of course, but I don't really have a choice, everything is just –"

"Molly, it's alright," Martha smiled a bit, standing, "I understand. Believe me."

The young woman smiled, "Heard about you," she said, "In the Master's broadcasts. Everyone thinks you can do something about what's happening…. Can you? I mean, stop him?"

"I hope so," Martha sighed heavily.

Molly took a deep breath, "Technically, I'm supposed to turn you in the second I see you," she said, "But don't worry, I didn't. I mean, well, I couldn't, could I? You're my friend. And it's not like I want the Master to rule the entire world. I'm rooting for you, you know?"

She was probably going to say something else, but Martha suddenly hugged her tightly, closing her eyes.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you, Molly," she whispered.

Molly smiled brightly for a second, then her smile faded, "You should probably go," she warned her, "There are guards patrolling this area heavily and we certainly don't them to find you here."

"No, we don't," she agreed, snatching up her bag and slinging the strap over her shoulder. She hesitated and frowned, "Are you staying near here?"

"There's a camp," Molly nodded, "A few blocks away… It's just me and a couple of other doctors and a few people too sick to work. I'm sure they wouldn't mind hiding you until night if you want."

Martha smiled, "That'd be perfect, Molly, thank you!"

~/.\~

Dean grunted, struggling against the invisible bonds that held him in place. He turned his eyes away from the nervous young woman who was speaking to Crowley. He heard Sam telling her that it wasn't worth it, trying to get her to back out of the deal, but then Crowley lifted his hand and Sam's words were cut off by a strangled, choking sound as he gasped for breath.

Crowley smirked and lowered his hand, satisfied whenever Sam gulped for air.

"Better? Good, now how about you keep out of my business transactions, eh?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at him, but wisely said nothing this time. Crowley turned back to the shaken woman. She seemed nervous, but despite the demon's displays of power, she continued with her deal, asking for her husband's resurrection in exchange for her own soul.

Sam and Dean both looked away as the deal was sealed – Crowley snatching the woman's head and forcing a kiss onto her lips. She shoved back, gasping a bit and stumbling. She landed on her butt, looking stunned for a moment. Crowley smirked down at her, winking flirtatiously.

"Well, I've had better," he shrugged, "But…" he lifted his hands and Sam, Dean, Adam and Henricksen fell from where they'd been suspended. "Consider hubby alive and kicking. Wherever you buried him."

"But…" the woman stumbled for a moment and jerked up to her feet, "That's over 400 miles away!"

Crowley shrugged, "Deal's a deal, sweetheart. Don's alive and your soul is mine. I'll see you again in ten years." He turned on his heel, ignoring her as she stared with wide, still somewhat terrified eyes, at them.

"Now," Crowley frowned, tilting his head, "What to do about the Winchesters…?" he pursed his lips thoughtfully and watched in amusement as Sam and Dean struggled to their feet. Sam shoved Adam behind him, but Henricksen stood next to Dean with a strangely similar look of contempt and anger on his face.

He huffed, "I can't really kill you, I suppose," he sounded disappointed and Sam frowned.

"Why can't you kill us?"

"Big plans for you, Sammy," he eyed Sam's tall frame up and down, "Surely Yellow Eyes told you that?"

Sam's throat tightened and he glanced over at Dean, "What sort of plans?"

"Well, you probably won't like them," he said, "Best keep you in the dark for the time being. Personally, not a fan of these plans myself…" he shrugged, "But then, I can probably use that to my advantage one day. See you later, boys. Have fun surviving Armageddon!"

He was gone before Sam or Dean could react. They stood there in silence, Mrs. Richardson's heavy breathing the only thing they could hear for several seconds.

"That… That how all demons react?"

"No," Dean frowned, "Definitely not."

He glanced over toward his brother – brothers – and frowned. Sam looked pale and confused and Dean knew him well enough to recognize the hundreds of unanswered questions that were spinning through his mind. Probably the same ones that he was thinking about. He felt that familiar pang of guilt as he remembered his father's dying words. He quickly shoved those thoughts away and turned to Adam and Henricksen.

"You two alright?"

Henricksen wiped his hand over his face, shaking his head. "Yeah…" he swallowed roughly, "Yeah."

Sam slowly approached the young woman who hadn't moved yet from where she was standing in the middle of the road. She stepped back whenever Sam reached out toward her. He pulled his hand back and pressed his lips together.

"It's okay," he said, "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm Sam, that's my brother Dean and my brother Adam… And, uh… That's Agent Henricksen. What's your name?"

She took a deep breath, "Amelia," she said, "Amelia Richardson."

For just a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something else, but then she stopped and looked around the empty place with wide eyes.

Dean was suddenly at Sam's side, pulling him away, "Well, nice to meet you Amy. Have fun explaining to your husband why he's a zombie and you're going to Hell. We've got to go –"

"Wait, Dean," Sam tugged his arm out of Dean's grasp, "Come on, we can't just leave her here,"

"Why not?" Dean demanded, only pausing to give Amelia a cursory glance, "She got here on her own, she can get back to wherever she was the same way."

She let out a worried whimper and Sam sighed, "Come on, Dean, you're really gonna just leave her out here alone with Toclafane wandering around? She could die."

"She just sold her soul," Dean said, "Don't think dying is her main concern."

"Dean," Sam frowned, shaking his head, "We have to help her."

"Says who?"

"Come on," Henricksen joined in, "Can't we at least get her to a safe house?"

Dean glanced back at her and grumbled, "Fine," he said, "You can tag along until we get to the next safe house, but then you gotta go."

"Thank you," her voice was quiet and she smiled a bit, but her eyes were watering like she wanted to cry. Sam smiled at her and put an arm around her shoulder, leading her toward the car with Henricksen in front of him. Dean hung back for a moment, shaking his head at the sight. Adam frowned and glanced over at him.

"Why don't you want to help her out?" he asked.

Dean scowled, "She didn't want our help when she pimped her soul to a demon," he snapped, walking briskly ahead of the young man, muttering to himself as he got behind the wheel in the old car and slammed the door shut.

~/.\~

Lucy Saxon eased her way into the conference room, glancing over her shoulder every couple of seconds to be absolutely certain that her husband was nowhere in sight. She knew he had only just begun questioning the Doctor, but Harry had a way of popping up out of nowhere. It had never really bothered her before, but now it made her heart race in her chest at the very thought of it.

The room was empty except for Spencer Reid, who sat curled up against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. A heavy chain around his ankle held him in place, but Lucy suspected that the chain wasn't necessary at the moment. The guards outside paid her no mind. They hardly even glanced at her at all, actually. She didn't blame them. For a while they'd regarded her with the same mixture of fear and contempt that they had Harry, but as time went by they simply ignored her altogether unless she spoke to them.

She gently shut the door and her heels clicked against the floors as she approached the huddled young man. He didn't acknowledge her approach at all until she reached him. Eyes wide, her hand shook just a bit as she reached down and touched his shoulder.

He jerked from beneath her touch and his head snapped eyes, eyes dark and watery, one eye bruised and swollen. His lips parted a bit, like he was getting ready to say something, but the words died in his throat whenever Lucy knelt and unlocked the chain around his ankle.

"…What are you doing?"

Her lips quivered just a bit as she stared into his wide hazel eyes. She didn't answer the question at first, instead gripping his forearm and ignore the shudder her touch sent through him.

"Harold is busy," she said, "But I doubt you'll have much time. I thought you might like a shower."

His chest rose and fell rapidly and she relaxed her grip on his arm, "He won't be happy if he catches us," she added.

He hesitated to follow her and Lucy cast her eyes down to the ground, "It's this way,"

She started walking, not bothering to see if he was behind her or not. His timid voice called after her and she froze.

"Why are you doing this?"

She didn't know the answer to that question. She turned to face him again, her expression entirely blank, but her eyes, an icy color, sparked with some deeper emotion. She couldn't say why she wanted to help the young man, but her heart felt sick at the thought of him sitting here alone, not even being allowed to clean himself up after what had happened. Even the other women were given that much.

"Harold could come back at any moment," she said finally. "We must hurry."

She turned again and this time, heard his slow and shaky footsteps behind her. A tiny smile of relief twitched on her lips, but she forced it away, instead reshaping her expression into its usual blank mask.

~/.\~

Chicago was desolate. Castiel frowned, narrowing his eyes as he stood outside of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. He scanned the building's perimeter, spotting a few men stationed in the upper-sections of the building. They were eyeing him suspiciously, but a second later he was gone.

He reappeared in the large common area of the building, surrounded by a small group of people. At his sudden appearance, they all froze and several men stood, pulling out guns and pointing them at the stranger.

"What the hell?" one young man, standing closest to Castiel, frowned. The gun was shaking in his hand as he scanned the battered trench coat and suit.

Castiel ignored them, scanning the crowd of people for the angel that Balthazar had told him was here. Even in human vessels, angels easily recognized each other – which only made him wonder how this angel had hidden his identity from them in Heaven. Everyone appeared human.

He didn't even realize the people growing more nervous around him. He turned slowly, ignoring their suddenly demanding questions, wondering where the other angel is. He could feel his presence. The power thrummed off of him and called to Castiel, but he still couldn't tell who he was. Unaware of the humans who were getting ready to pull the triggers on their weapons, Castiel considered asking them where the angel was.

But they would probably not know.

He suddenly turned toward the young man nearest him, starting to say something whenever a voice behind him made everyone freeze.

"Castiel," the voice sounded both vaguely amused and also tight with worry.

"You know him?" the young man nearest him gestured with the gun and Castiel turned slowly to see the other man. He wasn't particularly tall, but he had a strange smirk on his face and held himself with assurance and a bit of arrogance. This, Castiel knew, was the angel. He squinted, frowning. He was vaguely familiar, but even looking at him now, Castiel wasn't able to identify him. He must be powerful indeed if Castiel didn't immediately know him.

The man's lips twitched a bit, "Sure," he said, "He's my brother. Excuse us…"

He snapped his fingers and suddenly Castiel found himself standing amongst a group of frozen people. He tilted his head, studying the angel, trying to place him. And then it hit him.

"…Gabriel,"

Gabriel smiled, eyes flashing brightly. "It's been a while," he said, "How'd you find me?"

"Balthazar," Castiel started to explain, but Gabriel just rolled his eyes.

"Of course. Never did know to mind his own business,"

Castiel frowned, "…How are you…?"

"What? Alive?"

He nodded and Gabriel just shrugged. "Well it wasn't easy," he said, "But I made myself my own little Witness Protection Program. Now, thanks to you, my cover's blown. Guess I'll have to find myself a new face…"

"The other angels do not know I'm here," Castiel said, eyeing Gabriel with a frown. He hadn't been close to Gabriel in Heaven, but of course, the archangels tended to stick together, particularly after Lucifer's fall. Everyone, including Michael, had assumed Gabriel had been killed during the war.

"Really?" Gabriel's lips twisted up into a grin and he waved his hand, conjuring a large chair which he flopped casually down on. Another appeared behind Castiel, but Castiel remained standing, still eyeing the archangel with a frown. Gabriel shrugged and snapped his fingers, a table laden with chocolate bars suddenly appearing to his right and on his left hand, a bright red Ring Pop. He stuck the candy into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment and eyeing Castiel curiously.

"Then to what do I owe this visit, Bro?"

Castiel hesitated. He had not expected an archangel… He had known the angel hiding must be powerful, but he could not understand why Gabriel would have faked his death and fled from Heaven. He tilted his head.

"I need your help,"

Gabriel snorted, "My help? Sorry, Cas, no can do. Kinda got my own thing going down here. Don't want to get mixed up in any family arguments."

"But…" Castiel hesitated, "Something is… wrong. Here, on earth. Surely you've noticed it."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, "You mean time going all fuzzy?" he asked, nodding slowly as he stuck the Ring Pop into his mouth again. Before Castiel could say anything else, he continued. "I've noticed. It's like looking at a double image, isn't it? Two timelines, overlapping each other. Doesn't make any sense. Kinda gives you a headache, huh? Sorry, still can't help."

Castiel frowned, "The other archangels aren't doing anything,"

Gabriel's smile was a bit bitter, "Of course they aren't," he said, "It's only their job, right? But I guess, with Daddy's little Plan being set in motion, they've got bigger things on their minds."

"You are an archangel –"

"Correction," Gabriel leaned over and grabbed one of the candy bars, ripping the wrapper off of it, "I was an archangel. Not anymore. Told you, Witness Protection, Castiel. Sort of implies that I didn't want to be found."

"Why not?"

Gabriel blinked, stunned silent for a moment. Then a somewhat bitter laugh escaped his lips, "Why not?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Because… Heaven was like Hell," Castiel's eyes widened at the comparison and Gabriel just smiled at him. "Don't worry, you'll see it too one day. There's nothing up there for me but petty arguments that never get settled and rules I didn't want to follow… So I made myself a new life. Got a new face, and I've been happy hiding down here for a very long time."

"I don't understand,"

"Of course you don't," Gabriel shrugged, falling silent for a moment. "Wish I could help, really," he said, "But no. I'm not sticking my neck out for those jackasses to find me. If the world ends, it ends. But you shouldn't worry so much. It's not gonna end."

Castiel's brows furrowed in confusion, "How do you know that?"

Gabriel smiled, "It's not part of the Plan," he said. He snapped his fingers again and suddenly Castiel found himself standing alone in the warehouse. He had no idea where Gabriel was, or what he had done with the people who had been here… but now they were all gone. Frowning, Castiel looked toward the ceiling and vanished, reappearing in Heaven once more, unsure of where to turn next.

~/.\~

"Jane, maybe you should sit this out," Rigsby glanced into the backseat of the car where the blond man sat. O'Laughlin and Lassiter were already outside of the car, guns ready in case they needed them. Van Pelt frowned and followed Rigsby's gaze.

"He's probably right," she agreed. Jane looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. His hair was stuck up in odd angles and his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark, heavy bags. He was pale and far too thin.

"You don't look so great, Patrick,"

Jane scowled at them and shook his head, pointedly holding up the 9 mm. that they had provided him with for this trip.

"Grace, do you really think I came all this way just to wait in the car?" he demanded. "I'm going in. I have to see Lisbon. I have to."

The redhead sighed and nodded, "I guess we can't stop you,"

"Grace!" Rigsby frowned at her, "We talked about this."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, "Tie him up and leave him here?"

Rigsby glanced back at Jane, thoughtfully eyeing his friend. "It would be a good place to start,"

She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car, "Sorry," she said, "Patrick's a grown man. We can't just refuse to let him go in with us if he wants to. Lisbon is his friend as much as yours, Wayne."

He grumbled to himself as he too stepped out of the car, "Fine," he said, "But you stay close to me, Jane," he warned, "If things get bad, you don't have the experience to get out of a fire fight without getting injured and Lisbon will kill me if I let anything happen to you."

Jane made a face, but didn't protest again, instead remaining uncharacteristically silent as O'Laughlin, Lassiter, Van Pelt and Rigsby talked about how they were going to get into the camp. They had parked the car about three miles away, hidden from view and walked the rest of the distance to avoid detection.

It was dark in Pasadena, the human guards all gone inside after the curfew. Only Toclafane patrolled the area and there didn't seem to be many to dodge in this area of the city. That, at least, was on their side.

The work camp was in a small office building, the lights glowing dimly from where they stood just off the road. They didn't want to risk flashlights in the city, so they were glad to have some form of light to see by. Each of them held their weapon in steady hands – except Jane, who had only handled a gun briefly in the lessons that Van Pelt had given him earlier. She had told him that his aim was surprisingly very good, but the weapons still felt so wrong in his grasp. He hated the feel of it, its weight, its cold metal resting against his skin.

It felt like he was holding onto a bomb that was about to explode. His skin crawled at the thought, but he was more than willing to use it if push came to shove. For Lisbon, there was very little he wasn't willing to do.

He followed Rigsby's order and stayed as close to him as he could as they slipped quietly through the chain-link fence and approached the building. The night was still and quiet. Jane's just clenched as they found and entrance. Lassiter, whose wide blue eyes were bright with a strange sort of excitement, easily picked the lock and the door swung open silently.

Their footfalls sounded extremely loud as they entered. Everyone was apparently asleep. They passed through the empty common area and cooking area and O'Laughlin suddenly whistled, pointing emphatically toward a large section where there were about two dozen people sleeping, wrapping in blankets, on the floor.

Jane's quick eyes scanned the heads, looking for the familiar dark hair of his friend. After a moment, he felt himself growing discourage and then he saw her. He nearly had to clamp his own hand over his mouth to keep from crying out, but he pointed eagerly toward her before taking off without another word.

"Jane!" he heard Rigsby hiss at him, but ignored it in favor of getting to Lisbon sooner. He knelt next to her and wasted absolutely no time grabbing her by the shoulder and shaking her, careful to stick his hand over her mouth to muffle her surprised gasp. She fought for a second before her green eyes landed on her assailant she stilled. Jane waited a second, until he was absolutely certain she wouldn't scream, and removed his hand.

As soon as he did, she sat up, bleary-eyed, and punched him in the arm.

"You ass," she hissed, keeping her voice low. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He quirked his lips into that familiar smile that Lisbon had missed so much. "Rescuing you," he hissed back, eyes sparkling. She rolled her eyes at him and Jane felt his heart swell at the sight. Lisbon was okay. More than okay, she was Lisbon. She was a little thinner, her cheeks hollow and her eyes dark and somber, but it was her. His Lisbon. He had to struggle against the urge to hug her.

Lisbon, apparently, saw no reason to struggle and before he knew what had happened, her arms were around his neck, squeezing so tightly he wasn't sure she wasn't trying to kill him.

"Missed you too," he joked, disentangling them, "But we should get going. Don't want to wake anyone else, huh?"

She laughed quietly and shook her head, "Yeah," she sighed and quietly shuffled her way to her feet, leaving the blanket behind. Her eyes scanned the sleeping bodies until she found Rigsby and the others and she smiled. "Let's go then."

They made it out just as easily as they had made it in. Everything was eerily quiet. As soon as they made it past the fence, Lisbon began asking questions, first about the safe house and about what had happened with them since the Decimation, then about Jane and what he thought he was doing holding a gun.

They were halfway to the car, far away from the camp, by that point.

"Well," Jane shrugged, "They wouldn't let me come unless I had a weapon."

She sighed, reaching over and taking the gun from him, "Smart, I suppose," she said, "But don't ever let me see you with a gun in your hand, Jane. It doesn't suit you." He smiled, about to say something else when suddenly Lassiter grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him forward.

"Run! Toclafane!"

And sure enough, he heard the faint humming of the floating, whirring machines.

~/.\~

A/N: Did I end it there? Yeah.

So… Not sure how I did with Molly Hooper (from "Sherlock" in case you didn't know) …I kinda feel like she was strangely channeling Gwen from Merlin… Hope she wasn't out of character…

…Yeah, I rescued Lisbon to have them attacked by Toclafane. I'm mean that way.

And… Amelia. Normally, I wouldn't tell you guys this, but… The ONLY reason she is still alive is because Crowley wouldn't kill her. (Something about it being stupid to kill the woman who'd sold her soul to him and Hell having "integrity" or whatever. It was very annoying). I usually try to be unbiased about these things, but Amelia doesn't get that fair treatment because I said so.

Anyway, I'm kind of in love with writing Lucy Saxon at the moment. She just keeps getting more interesting…

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please, please review and let me know!