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: Well it took me a while, and I'm very sorry for that, but I finally got this chapter written! What's it been? Two weeks? Jeesh. Anyway. Hope you enjoy! We've got a bit of action coming again! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed! You're awesome and I love you!

Armageddon:

Part III: The Year of Hell

Chapter Fourteen

The air was charged with tense desperation as the small group turned and raced away from the Toclafane. Lisbon glanced behind them and counted in the darkness. Five floating metal monsters. Damn, damn, damn. She shoved against Jane's back, pushing him forward. Rigsby and O'Laughlin were in the lead, followed closely by Lassiter and Grace. Lisbon and Jane made up the rear as they ran for all they were worth.

They didn't bother firing their weapons – no use wasting bullets that they already knew would be useless. Lisbon figured they were probably lucky that the Toclafane were all they had to worry about. At least they didn't have to deal with the Master's human patrols on top of everything else.

"Where's the car?" she asked, one hand going to her side as a familiar muscle pang went through her. She hadn't done much running in the past month and she was definitely starting to feel the effects. Her lungs were burning, but she pressed forward.

"Couple of miles," Jane's breath came in pants and she glanced over at him anxiously.

"Great," she huffed and closed her eyes, shaking her head and pushing her feet harder against the ground. She was not about to die after finally reuniting with Jane. And Rigsby, of course. Those flying bastards were fast, but she was determined to outrun them. If they could get to the car, they had a fighting chance.

Suddenly, the dark night was lit up as one of the Toclafane shot a bright blue laser and nearly took of Rigsby.

"Damn it!" she ducked as another beam of light shot right over her head. She could feel the heat and the intensity of it. She'd never seen the lasers in person, but she'd heard of them and seen the Master employ them in his broadcasts. He'd preformed several executions with them.

The darkness was suddenly alight with the bright lasers as the Toclafane fired away, zapping trees, grass and rocks and grazing Van Pelt's jacket, but miraculously not hitting anyone for several minutes.

They lost them for a moment as the group suddenly veered off the path and down through a tangled knot of branches. Lisbon hissed as thorny roots and vines caught her pants and slowed her down. She noticed the group at the front slowing down as well, trying to wade their way through the sharp, biting sticks and thorns. Two of the Toclafane found them as they were halfway through the mess, a laser lighting up the darkness once more.

"Look out ahead!" She called, ducking and dragging Jane down with her as another shot fired very near their heads. "Shit,"

She hadn't felt her heart beating so quickly in a long time, pressing up against her ribcage. Her chest hurt, her lungs were on fire and every step sent a new pang through her side, but she kept going anyway, determined not to die so soon.

Several quick burst filled the night air and she heard Van Pelt scream suddenly, but she couldn't see what was happening up ahead and instead continued forward, yanking Jane along beside her as he started to slow down, his breath coming in shorter, more labored bursts than before.

"Come on, Jane," she huffed, "We gotta keep going. The car can't be much farther…"

He wheezed a bit and turned to give her a smile. Even as scared as he looked, that smile still sent a warm, familiar feeling through her and she gripped his hand tighter in hers. She was definitely not going to die today.

Suddenly, she heard Rigsby's voice a few feet ahead, pained and tired,

"We have to keep moving, Grace!"

Van Pelt's voice returned, a rough, trembling sound, "We can't just leave him!"

There were more words, but Lisbon didn't hear what and a moment later another bright laser cut through the night. She heard the others picking up speed and hoped to God that meant they were nearing the car. The path made a sharp turn up ahead and she had just enough time to spot Rigsby dragging the redhead, Lassiter moving swiftly in front of them, toward the turn. She glanced back with wide eyes and kept moving.

For a moment, Lisbon's brows furrowed in confusion and then she nearly fell flat on her face over what she at first thought was a large root. As Jane pulled her to her feet, however, she got a good look at Craig O'Laughlin's lifeless body and her gut twisted. He was face down, one hard reaching out toward the turn in the trail, legs folded underneath him at an awkward, unnatural angle. She was frozen for a second, but Jane tugged her forward.

"We have to go," he urged her onward, this time leading her down the dark and narrow path.

They were running for several minutes more, with no sign of Toclafane, whenever they burst out into a clearing and she spotted the car parked next to a dirt road that was worn from rain and years of use. They didn't stop running until they reached the car and Lisbon leaned against the metal frame, closing her eyes tightly and taking several painful gulps of air. She felt Jane at her side, his eyes burning a hole into her head and she heard Van Pelt, her choking sobs the only other sound apart from the heavy breathing.

Rigsby murmured something to her, but Lisbon couldn't hear what over the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. After several seconds, she opened her eyes and looked up, spotting them standing near the hood of the car, Rigsby's arms wrapped around Van Pelt's shoulders as he whispered something. Jane was still glued to her side and off to the side stood Lassiter, breathing heavily and looking a bit awkward as he looked between Grace and Wayne.

Lisbon's eyes went to Jane and she was surprised to see him looking right back at her. She took a shaky breath and reached out, gripping his hand tightly again. She wasn't able to force a smile, thinking back to O'Laughlin's body. She had only just met him that night, but he had died on a trip to rescue her and she couldn't help the wave of grief and guilt that washed over her.

The night was quiet again as everyone's breathing returned to normal. No sound of Toclafane approaching. Nothing at all except Van Pelt crying, her head resting against Rigsby's consoling shoulder.

~/.\~

The morning was slow as everyone moved around sluggishly for a few hours. No one was really talking much, still too tired from their restless nights. It wasn't until Jack was awake that they really registered the start of a new day. Everyone loved Jack. The toddler got more attention than anyone else in the house. Even Gibbs would smile and play with a handful of plastic soldier with the little boy.

He was sitting on the floor, Gibbs and Tony both playing with him, giggling loudly as Hotch watched with a content smile on his face. He thought of how he and Hailey had used to do almost the exact same thing but shoved the thought away with a pang of grief. He tried hard to remind himself that Hailey was gone and not coming back, but he still woke up some mornings expecting to roll over and see her smiling at him.

Slowly, the murmur of everyone else's voices began to pick up again. Reid and McGee were talking with Ducky about time travel again, Fornell and Rossi were talking but Hotch only caught a few words here and there. He assumed it was probably something to do with Rossi's former FBI career. Morgan was teasing Garcia and Abby while they worked on the computer and Prentiss, who had been the last to get up that morning, suddenly sank down between Tony and Gibbs to play with Jack.

Jessica nudged him slightly and he turned to look at her, raising a brow whenever she gave him a knowing sort of smirk. He wasn't sure what the smile meant until her eyes went to Prentiss and Tony. They were sitting a bit closer together than Hotch would've expected, heads bowed toward each other as they whispered something. Soon, though, they moved apart and turned their attention back to Jack.

"Oh my god!" Garcia suddenly jumped up, her eyes wide behind her glasses and turned toward Abby, who was grinning brightly too.

"We got something!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and crowded around Garcia and Abby, Jessica taking little Jack and holding him in her arms tightly.

"What'd you find, Baby Girl?" Morgan leaned forward, studying the computer.

"Dr. Badass," it was Abby would answered, "He sent us a message last night."

"It was hard to decipher it," Garcia admitted, "He wrote it in code, but we got it!"

"What did he say?" Gibb asked, leaning over the back of Abby's chair, squinting at the screen even though he had no idea what he was really looking at.

"He's in South Dakota," Garcia said, turning back to face the screen, "With a few other men. He wouldn't give us a number, but he says that they have weapons and ammo and they're good with guns… They've been looking for law enforcement and… uh, hunters…"

"You mean like deer hunters?" McGee frowned thoughtfully.

"Just says hunters. They're trying to gather enough people to go after the Master. They're gonna need all the help they can get and right now, they're pretty much alone." Abby said.

There was silence for a moment and then Tony spoke up, "Well, guess they're in luck since we're trying to do the same thing."

Garcia grinned brightly, "That's what I said," she said, "And, apparently, Dr. Badass has been trying to crack Archangel too. Maybe, with his help, we can have it done in half the time."

For the first time a month there was a decidedly light atmosphere in the small safe house. Everyone was smiling. They might have an ally who was looking for more people out there to help.

"We need to tell them about Ducky," Reid suddenly said, "They don't know about anything he's told us yet."

"He's right," Prentiss nodded, "They'll need to know everything we know and vice versa."

"You two can send a message back, yeah?" Gibbs asked, glancing down at Abby.

The two women grinned and turned back to the screen with a sparkle in their eyes, "Consider it done, Gibbs," Abby said. They were working away again, the steady clicking of their fingers on the keyboard a familiar sound as everyone went back to what they were doing, buzzing with anticipation. Finally, after a month, it felt like maybe they were actually going to accomplish something.

~/.\~

Henricksen and Adam road in the backseat of the beat-up old car the Winchesters were driving. Dean sat behind the wheel, his knuckles white and his jaw set, not saying a word. Henricksen noticed Sam glancing toward his older brother every now and then, looking reading to say something, and then stopping himself and looking quickly toward the back.

Amelia Richardson sat between him and Adam, her hands gripped into tight fists, arms wrapped tightly around her chest. She too was silent, her face set in a grim expression while her tears from earlier dried on her face. The overwhelmingly heavy silence only gave Henricksen more time to work through what had happened back at the crossroads. In the short drive from where they were to what appeared to be an old, abandoned barn, Henricksen tried to untangle the messy thoughts in his head.

It wasn't every day a man's entire worldview was completely turned upside down, after all.

He was a practical man, only ever believing something that he could pin down with own two eyes, living in a world based entirely on facts and solid legwork. He wasn't particularly religious, never finding a real reason to believe in a God he couldn't see or talk to, but now… If demons were real, did that mean God existed too? Was Hell a real place? And what about Heaven? If there really were ghosts, what did that mean about the afterlife?

How had he lived his entire life never realizing that there was an entire world hidden, just out of his line of sight? How many cases had he worked that had been the work of some supernatural being?

And of course, there was the Winchesters. If they were innocent of the crimes he'd thought they'd committed, he couldn't help but wonder why they were working to hunt down monsters in the first place. It didn't seem like the kind of life someone would want. Then again, his own career in the FBI wasn't exactly the most rewarding – years of hard work, pain, long nights and broken marriages with little to really show for it. Were they doing what they did for the same reason he did? Were they trying to protect innocent people? How did they get mixed up into a life like this?

If it weren't for the tense silence that seemed to hang over the car, he might've asked those questions immediately, but maybe it was better that he had a few minutes to try and readjust his thoughts before he was able to ask questions.

Dean cut the engine as they pulled up to the old barn and climbed out of the car without a word to anyone. Sam sighed heavily and stayed behind, whispering quietly to Amelia that they would get her someplace safe. Henricksen frowned for a moment when Adam hung back to talk to Sam, then he quickened his stride until he caught up with Dean, grabbing the younger man by the arm and stopping him before he could enter the barn.

"Hey," he took a half-step back as Dean wrenched his arm free and turned to glare at him in annoyance. "What's with you and the girl?"

Dean's eyes flickered to where Sam was standing near the car with Amelia and Adam and then turned back to Henricksen. "Like I said, she didn't want our help when she sold her soul. Why should we help her now?"

Henricksen frowned, "She did it to bring her husband back," he said, "Ever think maybe she misses him?"

"People die," Dean snapped, "And when they're dead, they should stay that way. You don't fuck around with the natural order like that."

Henricksen frowned, "Sounds like you're taking this kind of personal," he said, "The girl is alone and scared. She loved her husband and wanted him back. Maybe dealing with a demon isn't the smartest thing to do, but cut her some slack, huh?"

Dean narrowed his eyes, "What, you think her selling her soul to bring back a man who's been dead over a month is a good thing?"

"She loved the guy,"

"She's being selfish," Dean said, his words snarled and harsh. "She should've let him die and rest in peace, but since she didn't wanna live without him, she brought her husband back into this shitty world so she wouldn't have to be alone."

Henricksen blinked and paused for a second, unsure of how to respond at first. Before he got the chance, Dean had turned away and entered the barn, muttering under his breath. Sam brushed past him quickly, calling out his brother's name and Henricksen sighed.

He had to admit, he didn't know much about this supernatural world just yet, but it seemed to him that Amelia selling her soul was more an act of desperation and grief than selfishness. Maybe Dean had a point, maybe screwing with life and death wasn't a good thing, but he didn't understand how Dean could hold such contempt for a woman he hardly knew for doing something that countless others would likely be willing to do as well under similar circumstances.

"Sam said he'll be okay," Adam's voice was suddenly right behind Henricksen. "He just has issues with crossroads demons or something…"

Henricksen turned and studied the teenager with a frown. "You sure about tagging along with these guys?" he asked, "Even if they aren't killers, they're still living a dangerous life."

Adam shrugged, "Who isn't these days?"

Henricksen managed to smile a bit and nodded, "Right," he said, shaking his head and allowing Adam and the still silent Amelia to pass by him and into the barn where he could hear Sam and Dean having an intense, hissed argument a few feet away. He followed their voices until he caught sight of them, standing in the shadows and frowned, wonderful how the hell they had managed to work together so long when he'd seen the arguing nearly non-stop since he'd met them.

"Are you two going to argue all night?" Henricksen called over to them. Sam turned and gave him a hard look before turning back toward his brother and motioning pointedly at him. Dean rolled his eyes and moved back toward the group, his eyes skirting over Amelia with a controlled grimace of annoyance flickering over his face. Sam stood where he was for a moment before joining them as well.

"We'll have to camp here for the night," Dean said, "Hope you don't mind sleeping on the ground…"

Henricksen shrugged and helped them carry duffle bags from the car. There weren't enough blankets for everyone, but Sam valiantly gave up his extra blanket for Amelia and Dean, surprisingly, offered Adam his. Sam tried to give Henricksen his other blanket, but he refused, opting to use an empty duffle bag as a pillow and his own jacket as a blanket instead. In the past month, he'd slept in a lot of uncomfortable and unsavory places. He had to say, this might've been one of the worse, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna complain.

The night air was cold, but they didn't start a fire in case they risked being spotted by Toclafane. Henricksen lay on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling for several moments, listening to the others breathing. No one was asleep.

Finally, he rolled onto his side and squinted through the darkness toward the lump he assumed was Dean and asked one of the many questions that had been on his mind since the demon attack.

"How many of them are out there? Demons?"

There was a short pause before Dean answered, his voice gruff, "Don't know. Too many," he let out a sarcastic snort, "Sam and me seem to attract 'em pretty quick."

Adam suddenly spoke up next, "So Dad taught you how to kill them then?"

"Not demons," Sam was quick to reply then, "It's pretty much impossible to kill a demon."

"Unless you've got a special gun," Dean added, his tone suddenly heavy.

"Special gun?" Henricksen frowned.

"The Colt," Sam explained, his voice tired and rough, "Only gun in the world like it. It'll kill a demon. We had it…" he trailed off and Dean picked up where he stopped, his voice bitter.

"Then we lost it."

"How?" Adam again, his tone curious and interested. Henricksen had only known the kid a few weeks, but he was smart for only being seventeen.

"Long story," Dean grated the words out through his teeth, "Besides, we haven't seen much demon activity since the Master took over. Hell of a lot of ghosts though…"

"Ghosts?" Amelia spoke for the first time, her voice quiet and timid. Dean muttered something unintelligible and then Henricksen heard a heavy thud followed by Dean swearing loudly. In the dark, Henricksen couldn't be entirely sure but he thought Sam might've hit his brother.

"Yeah," Sam said, "Sometimes, when people die in violent ways, their spirit hangs on. Angry spirits are born from violent death and with the Toclafane hanging around, there's been a lot of that lately. More violent deaths means more vengeful spirits."

Henricksen mulled that thought over. It was horrifying to think that even in death the Master's victims might not have found rest. The very idea of dying in the nightmare and being stuck here for the rest of the foreseeable eternity made him a little bit sick.

"Is that what you've been doing then?" he asked, "Hunting ghosts and other monsters?"

"After the Decimation, vampires and shifters aren't really hiding as much anymore," Sam said, "But actually, we're looking for a safe house that's supposed to be here somewhere."

"Safe house?" Henricksen frowned.

"Yeah," Dean said, "Supposed to have a lot of law enforcement types. Normally, we wouldn't trust 'em, but we need help and firepower if we're gonna kill the Master."

Henricksen smiled a bit, "You're gonna kill the Master?"

"Damn straight," Dean sounded absolutely sure and Henricksen didn't doubt for a second that he was going to do everything he could to kill the son of a bitch.

"But…" Amelia suddenly spoke up, "Isn't that impossible?"

"Nothing is impossible," Dean said, "Not if you try hard enough."

"You're on a suicide mission," Amelia stated flatly, sounding less timid than she had before, "You're really going to drag people along with you to do something that you know can't be done?"

"It can," Dean's voice was hard, "Just because we haven't found a way to kill him yet, doesn't mean he can't be killed. If it bleeds, you can kill it."

"Have you even been watching the broadcasts?" Amelia asked, "There's no way. The best thing to do right now, is keep your head down and hope the Master doesn't notice you, because if he does, you're dead."

There was something openly challenging and defiant in Amelia's tone that surprised Henricksen. He could hear Dean taking a breath, about to say something, but Sam cut him off quickly.

"It's getting late," he said, "How about we all get some sleep. We need to get moving first thing,"

Dean muttered something, but Amelia obliged and was silent for the rest of the night. Adam murmured a quiet goodnight and other than the sounds of the others shifting around to get more comfortable, the bar was quiet, leaving Henricksen, once more, alone with his thoughts as he drifted off to sleep.

~/.\~

Carrying John out of the Fox Hole turned out to be the easy part. They were able to make a makeshift, if a bit shoddy, stretcher and Jake was able to carry most of his weight alone. The hard part came after they'd made their way through the tunnel and had to get back up onto the street. It was night and they could see nothing in the alley above them. Jake hoisted Tosh and Ianto up and the two of them knelt, waiting while Sherlock and Jake tried to heft John up to them.

It was a slow process. John groaned in pain, but never said anything to let them know, biting down on his lip to keep the groaning to a minimum. Owen wasn't being much help, but he wasn't being entirely useless either. His usually steady hands shook and he couldn't seem to stop thinking about Gwen, lying back there in the tunnel. He wanted to take her body with them, but as Sherlock so coldly pointed out, travelling with an invalid was going to be hard enough without also carrying a corpse around until they could bury it.

Owen had gritted his teeth when Sherlock had referred to Gwen's body as an "it" but Tosh had put a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a pleading, sympathetic look and he dropped it. For the moment at least. He was definitely hoping that they wouldn't have to deal with Mr. Sherlock Holmes for very much longer because he was very close to putting a bullet in the man's skull.

After several minutes of trying to lift John up and out of the tunnel, Tosh and Ianto finally managed to catch and lift the end of their makeshift stretcher and tugged it toward them as Jake and Sherlock pushed. John hissed loudly, but still said nothing as they finally pulled him onto the hard, cold concrete of the alley way. Sherlock, Jake and Owen were able to easily climb out, though Owen had needed a bit of help. Being shorter than the other two and not quite as focused as he really should be, he slipped a couple of times before Jake helped tug him upward.

They all rested for a long moment before Jake, kneeling by John and checking to make sure his leg was okay, looked up at Sherlock.

"Now what?"

"Now… we need to find somewhere safe to camp for the night. We'll have to cover as much ground as possible before dawn. We'll be safer outside of the city." His eyes went to John and he frowned, "We may be able to make it before sunrise."

"We're going to try either way," Tosh said, already moving to lift up her end of John's stretcher. "So let's get moving. Like you said, we haven't got much time."

~/.\~

Molly stood a few feet ahead of Martha, scanning the area for anyone before waving her forward. "Okay, we're just down this street," she said, "Follow me. Quickly." She took off, Martha at her heels and they ended up inside a relatively nice building. The entrance was empty, but Molly waved her forward and began explaining everything.

"The Master has us moving around every couple of weeks, to keep any fugitives from finding us easily. He's killed a few doctors for helping out the resistance."

Martha smiled a bit, "The resistance?" she asked.

Molly shrugged, "Well, we had to call it something and it does seem appropriate, doesn't it? Normally it would probably sound a bit silly, but the world's been taken over by an alien so I suppose it fits a bit better under the circumstances."

"True," Martha nodded, "Have you ever helped any fugitives?"

"A few," Molly nodded, "Whenever I can. Mostly children, of course. The adults won't risk going to someone who works for the Master unless they're desperate."

As they talked, Molly led Martha further into the building and pushed open a door that had a small, wooden sign over the door. "Infirmary" was written on the sign in what Martha thought might've been a black marker. The Infirmary was small, about five beds spaced out against one wall. Only three of the beds were occupied at the moment, but they all turned their eyes toward the pair as they entered.

An older man, whose leg was in a sling, leaned forward and asked, "…Who is she?"

It took Martha a second to realize that he wasn't actually speaking English and then Molly turned and frowned looking between Martha and the man.

"But he… he doesn't speak a word of English. How…?"

Martha smiled a bit, relief flooding her as she held up the TARDIS key, "I suppose this this works then," she said, "I'll explain in a bit. Is there anything I can do to help you out here?"

~/.\~

When Castiel returned to his post, he was surprised to see the Winchesters already away from the demon and resting. Of course, that was good news. They had survived their encounter with the demon, but it meant there was nothing for him to really pay attention to at the moment and left him instead thinking about Gabriel and the things that he had said.

"Cassie!" Balthazar was suddenly beside him, eyeing his brother curiously. "So, how did it go with our mysterious friend downstairs?"

"He refused to help," Castiel said, "He said that he ran away from Heaven to get away from the others…" he frowned thoughtfully and Balthazar smiled.

"Can't blame him there. Most of you are so dull it's almost painful,"

Castiel turned puzzled eyes on his brother and Balthazar shrugged, "You at least found out who he was, right?"

Castiel looked away again, eyes returning to the sleeping Winchesters. "Yes,"

There was a long pause and Balthazar sighed dramatically, "And? Who was he?"

Castiel hesitated, "…It was Gabriel,"

"You're joking!"

"Why would I joke about this?"

Balthazar heaved an annoyed sigh, but pressed on anyway, "Gabriel has been alive all this time? Just hiding out down below?"

Castiel nodded and Balthazar looked thoughtful, "I suppose we should probably tell Michael about this…?" he eyed Castiel curiously and waited for a response.

"Gabriel does not wish to be found," Castiel said slowly, "And he is probably long gone by now. We would be alerting Michael to nothing of import."

Balthazar's smile was wicked as his eyes sparkled, "Right. No reason Michael has to know anything about Gabriel. At least not for now. And who know, maybe Gabriel will come around…"

He vanished, humming the tune of some song from below that Castiel had never heard before. Granted, he knew very little about human means of entertainment, so that wasn't say much. He turned his attention back to the Winchesters once more and tried not to think about what would happen in Michael found out that he knew Gabriel was still alive…

~/.\~

Francine sat on the small bed, her ex-husband and daughter next to her, and listened to the sound of screams echoing down to where they were currently being kept. Jack appeared to be sleeping, but Francine couldn't be sure. His chin was resting against his chest, but his breathing seemed too erratic and she thought he was probably having a nightmare, but none of them wanted to wake him, remembering the last nightmare Jack had had. He was still chained up about as tight as he could be, but he fought harder than any of them, defiant and anger and utterly unable to knuckle under to the Master's threats.

She jumped a bit whenever Clive put a hand on her shoulder and suggested that they try and get some sleep.

"It's getting worse," she said, ignoring him altogether. "Every night the screams get louder and I think 'Who is he torturing today? Who is it this time? Someone we know? Some innocent stranger?'" Her voice wavered and Clive tugged her closer to him, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.

"Mum, don't," Tish's voice was quiet as she scooted a bit closer to her mother. "We'll get out of this, like Jack said. We just have to trust the Doctor."

Francine eyed her daughter and shook her head, "Trust him? He's barely holding on as it is! You've seen him. Saxon's nearly killed the poor man. He won't be able to save us."

"What about Martha?"

Francine's heart seized a bit at the name of her other child and a few stray tears made their way down her cheeks, "…She'll do whatever she can," Francine conceded, "But every day I can't help but wonder if today is the day that bastard drags her body in here just to gloat."

Her words were full of fire and rage, but her voice still shook with fear and hopelessness. She looked around and couldn't help but doubt that they were ever going to be free of this nightmare. Tish was bruised and battered, her husband was barely able to keep himself from crying himself to sleep some nights and the great and mighty Doctor who was supposed to save them seemed to have been reduced to a hollowed shell of a man.

She wanted to hope, she wanted to believe that they could be saved, but there were moments when she would've gladly welcomed death to end this horror.

"We'll be okay," Clive said, but Francine knew he didn't believe that. Not really. "Martha never lets us down. She's what keeps this family from killing each other most times, remember?"

Francine managed to smile a bit at that and nodded, closing her eyes and leaning into her ex-husband. She wished she could see Martha. But wishes didn't have much of a place in the world anymore and instead she just tried to force herself not to think too hard about all the pain she'd witnessed and felt. Everything she'd lost. She reached out and clutched Tish's hand, reassured just a bit by her presence. She'd lost Leo, she had no idea where Martha was or if she was still alive, but she had Tish. And she'd be damned if she lost her too.

~/.\~

A/N: Aaaand another chapter down.

I feel awful for the Jones family… Kinda hate what's happening to them.

And I killed O'Laughlin. Trying to muster up a bit of regret over that, but I can't. I keep thinking how he died too quickly. Even if he never got to reveal his truly evil side. Still hate him.

Still hate Amelia. But things are moving forward to her execution as well. She really wasn't supposed to live this long…

Anyway. Things are moving along. Hope you enjoyed! Please review!