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 off, thank you guys for the reviews. I'm so sorry that last chapter was such a mess; I've gone back and edited it so that all the characters are actually there so you might want to take another look over it if you read any version of the chapter that didn't include Henricksen, Fornell, Garth or Morgan. Or in which Henry mysteriously and unexplainably vanishes after the first scene. It's all fixed now (I hope) and I'm sorry for the major screw up!

Anyway, I'm just going to hang my head in shame and hope this chapter makes up for the mess of the last one…

Please don't forget to review!

Armageddon:

Part III: The Year of Hell

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It felt like they were falling straight out of the sky. Spencer's heart was beating too fast and the noise around him was muffled by the rushing sound in his ears. He couldn't make out individual words.

He did his best to pull the ship out of its nosedive, yanking back on the controls with the help of Clive to straighten them out. It was a swift, jerky movement and left Spencer feeling lightheaded and sick, but the ship slowed down a bit at least. Enough that everything didn't seem to spinning around them.

They were still going too fast toward the ground. There were trees and grass everywhere and Spencer knew London couldn't be too far away. The Master kept the Valiant over the city most of the time.

With a deep breath, Spencer eased the ship slower without jerking them too much and closed his eyes. He didn't believe in any god, but he felt like praying to someone or something. He settled for taking a deep breath, biting his lip against the pain and telling the Joneses to brace themselves as they hit the ground with a hard, violent thud.

Tish and Francine were lifted up in the air and only Francine covering Tish kept the younger girl from slamming into the top of the vessel. Clive skidded forward and up, bashing his head hard against the side of the ship. Spencer could feel his injured leg smash against the controls and his head snapped forward, leaving his head aching and his mind spinning.

It took several long seconds before Spencer heard Clive talking.

"Spencer! Spencer!"

Hands were suddenly on his shoulders and he blinked up at him. He felt blood trickling from his mouth. Shakily, he reached up and wiped it away, sucking in a deep breath.

"We've got to go," he said, his words sounding far away and muffled. "We need to keep moving… too close to London…"

"Whoa, Spencer," Clive caught him as he tried to stumble out of the ship, "Be careful."

The man's voice was strained. He helped him get out and Spencer grimaced against the pounding in his head, his wounded leg buckling underneath him before Clive held him up.

"Fran, do you have Tish?"

Francine only nodded, helping her daughter out. Tish was quiet, staring at Spencer.

"Is he alright?"

"I'm fine," Spencer answered. He was. He was aching all over and it was difficult to focus on much, but he would be alright. He stumbled along with Clive at his side.

"Get the medical kit and blankets. There… there's water, too, I think. We'll have to find somewhere to take cover tonight and move when there's more light."

Clive nodded and helped Spencer sit down before gathering the things inside and passing them along to Tish and Francine. Tish was crying by that point, shaking a bit as she hugged her mouth.

Francine petted her hair, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you hurt?"

"Fine…" Tish hiccupped and shook her head, "I'm fine. I just… we're off that ship." Tears were spilling more freely down her cheeks, "We're free…. I can't…"

Whatever else she was saying dissolved into her relieved sobs and Francine joined her, tears sparkling in her own eyes she pulled her closer to her and kissed her forehead gently.

"We're safe," she agreed, "You're going to be alright."

~/.\~

Garth came too just as the Master's guards left the landing bay of the Valiant. He blinked his eyes and pressed a hand against his sore neck as the ship went into a steep dive that Morgan struggled to control and a blast lit up the sky right above them.

"You back with us now?"

Garth nodded wordlessly, turning around to see behind them as Morgan pulled them roughly out of the dive before they came too close to hitting the ground. They glided low for several hundred yards before Morgan pulled them back up.

"Missed a hell of a fight back there," Morgan's voice was tight, but he was trying to sound casual. Anything to make the tension in his shoulders a little more bearable.

"That happen often?"

Garth seemed to consider that, "Maybe," he admitted.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous? You being so clumsy in your line of work?"

"I get by," Garth said, "I'm good at it. That's what matters." He glanced behind them again, "Dive!" he said, "They're getting ready to fire another one!"

Morgan dove, pressing them back against the seats, yanking them out of the dive several hundred feet above the ground. He chanced a look back and saw another flash from the guns. He wished he knew exactly how to operate the weapons on the ship. At least from the looks of things the guns weren't made to fire too far away, at least not at the speeds they were going.

"Where's everybody else?"

"Hopefully off the Valiant," Morgan answered, "I didn't see everyone, but it looked like most of 'em got to the ships. The ones still alive…" his words trailed off. He didn't have time to dwell on that. He had to keep his head clear. Maybe once they got back together with the others they could take the time to mourn.

It took well over forty minutes to finally shake off the guards, but eventually they did. Once the sky behind them was clear of attacking air ships, Morgan tried to look around for any of the others. It was dark and they'd taken off at different times and were separated when the attack started.

He was sure the ships had to have some sort of communication device somewhere, but he didn't want to risk being overheard by the Master or his men.

It was getting darker and harder to see out when they were flying over land once more. Morgan couldn't make out much from how far up they were, but he was pretty sure it was the US at least. He was getting tired and he was already sore.

His muscles felt locked up and tight and his chest screamed against his every movement.

"We're gonna have to take her down," he said after a while, "I don't think I can keep going."

Garth nodded, "Land somewhere secluded if you can," he said, "Don't want anyone spotting this ship."

Morgan was already lowering them, keeping his sights trained for a suitable place to land. It would be easier in better light. And if he had any experience in doing something like this. As it was, all he could do was hope for the best.

They came down in a rough patch of woods. Morgan didn't recognize it, but he hoped it was hidden enough that the ship wouldn't be spotted or discovered any time soon. Garth gathered the medical kit and blankets and asked if he could help with Morgan's injuries.

He was surprising adept at patching up the minor cuts and bruises and though the kit wasn't the best for something as serious as his broken ribs, Garth managed to bind them up tight enough. Morgan could barely breathe, but that was far better than the alternative.

"We'll have to abandon the ship," Morgan said, "We can't risk flying it out again. The Master'll be looking for all of us soon enough."

"We aren't close enough to the church to make it on foot," Garth pointed out.

"We'll figure out where we are in the daylight," Morgan said, helping the other man lay out blankets on the ground. It was going to be a long and uncomfortable night. "Hopefully we can find a car or maybe a safe house somewhere nearby."

Garth nodded and leaned back, laying flat on his back on the cold earth. "The others probably made it back, right?"

"I hope so," Morgan said, grimacing as he carefully settled himself, "Some of us have to have been able to get back to Oklahoma…"

~/.\~

The flight from the Valiant was not a pleasant one. They'd barely gotten into the air when Jack's prone body began to choke and wheeze painfully. Rigsby was sitting next to him and jerked back, eyes wide. It took him a moment to compose himself and he reached out awkwardly, frowning.

"You okay?"

Jack didn't speak for a moment, his face twisting as he sat up and blinked around at his surroundings. He was used to coming to in unfamiliar places, but he was fairly certain this was the first time he'd ever died and woken up in an air ship.

"Where am I?" his voice hurt. Everything hurt. He could still feel the bullets where they'd hit him. He was going to be sore for a while. Dying was never the hard part, it was the coming back that always hit him the hardest. It was awkward and painful.

Looking around, he recognized some of the agents he'd run into on the Valiant earlier. He missed whatever the man on his right was saying to him, but he was able to piece together what had happened easily enough. They must've found his body and took it with them when they escaped.

Obviously their assassination plan had failed.

"What happened to Rossi?"

The man sitting in the front beside the pilot turned to face him. Jack tried to recall his name. He knew him from the Master's Wanted list. He sat forward, trying to keep himself oriented.

"I don't know," he said, "We were cornered. I got shot. They must've taken him with them."

Guilt twisted in his gut, but he tried not to think about it. There hadn't been much that he could've done for Rossi anyway. He was injured and they were cornered. Going down fighting was the best option that he had. Maybe he'd managed to give Rossi some time or at least a shot at getting away, but with his leg he doubted it.

The other men in the ship grew still and quiet, avoiding looking at each other. Jack looked down at his hands, wondering how many of their friends they'd lost. He cleared his throat and lifted his head.

"Where are we heading?" he glanced behind them, but he couldn't make out much.

"US," the man on his right said, "Back to Oklahoma if we make it that far." He too glanced back, "I'm sure the Master is going to send someone out to go after us."

Jack grimaced, "Damn it," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I was supposed to stay onboard."

The pilot frowned, "You want to be on the Valiant?"

"The Doctor's alone now," Jack said, "I promised I'd stay with him."

"Promised who?" the agent in front of him asked. He was going to have to learn their names, but he had more important things on his mind at that moment.

Jack swallowed and winced. His throat was dry. "Spencer," he said, "It was the only way he'd even think of getting off that damn ship."

He frowned and started to say something else when the man in front of him turned all the way around, fixing him with a piercing stare. It finally hit him what the man's name was when he was staring him right in the face. Hotchner. Spencer had said he was his boss.

"How did he get on the ship in the first place?"

Jack thought about that for a moment. He already knew that the other Spencer Reid, the one from 2007, was alive and hiding out on the planet somewhere.

"He was on the ship with me and the Doc when Saxon killed Winters," he said carefully, "but that's probably not what you were asking."

"No…" Hotchner shook his head, "There are two of him. How is that possible?"

"Well, there aren't really two of him. There's just the one. The only problem is that one of them isn't in the right year. The Spencer I know is from 2011," he saw Hotchner starting to ask another question and shook his head, "It's complicated. I'll explain everything, Agent, but I've got my own questions. I want to know what's going on down on the ground."

The agent on his right was glancing over his shoulder again, "Might have to save that for later. There's someone coming up on our tail, McGee. Can you take this thing any faster?"

McGee lifted his eyes a bit and nodded, "I can try," he said, "Let's just hope these ships don't have long range weapons…"

They jolted forward and Jack braced himself against the seat as the speed increased. His eyes darted around the small ship and he felt some of the tension in his gut dissipate. Maybe he could do some good on the ground. At the very least he could convince these people to trust the Doctor.

~/.\~

"What do you mean you lost them!?" the Master demanded, his eyes livid. There was a suddenly burst of light from the laser screwdriver in his hand and the guard in front of him died before the scream had left his mouth.

The Doctor had never seen the Master quite this angry. He'd lost nearly a third of his guards in the attack, only managed to get three prisoners alive and lost the Jones family, Spencer and Jack Harkness in the process.

When the Toclafane had been called, the Master had been ready to kill every single member of the raiding party and still they'd managed to escape. On his ships. While his guards apparently sat around twiddling their thumbs.

He let out a furious scream and ordered everyone out of the room, muttering about incompetence and torture. As the small group of guards filed out, grateful to still be alive, the Master turned his attention back to his wife. His eyes flashed with some unreadable expression and he grabbed her to him, pressing a brutal kiss to her lips.

Lucy barely blinked, stumbling back when he released the iron hold on her arm.

"Go wait in the bedroom," his whisper was hoarse, voice still thick with anger. She nodded, but said nothing and left with the heels of her shoes echoing in the conference room.

As the doors closed behind her, the Master turned to give the Doctor his full attention. The Doctor felt a spike of fear at the intense expression on his face, but set his eyes forward and met his glare. He was, frankly, not sure how to feel. Spencer, the Joneses and Jack were off the ship and safe for the moment. But so many lives had been lost in the process. It made his stomach turn to think of the casualties. It shouldn't have happened that way.

"You planned this," the Master said, walking toward him.

"You think I would plan something like this? You think I'd want to risk all those people's lives?"

"I think," the Master's voice was suddenly very low and calm, "that you do it all the time. I think you use your little pets to do your dirty work and they pay the price for you."

Without warning, the Master's hand shot out and wrapped tightly around the Doctor's throat, yanking him to his feet. He shoved him roughly into the wall and pressed in close, his face a mere inch away.

"I think I'm going to hunt them all down and make you watch while they beg for mercy," he hissed.

The Doctor's jaw tightened and he struggled in the Master's grip. He was weakened, physically and fighting back wasn't really much of an option, but he tried.

"And it'll be all your fault. They'll die knowing it was because of you."

The Doctor flashed his eyes to the Master, "I'm not the one killing them," he said, ignoring the pit in his stomach, "If you want to murder innocent people, don't put the blame on me. That's all you, Master."

The Master glared at him, "Murder innocent people?" he asked, snorting, "You think you're not a murderer, Doctor? All the lives you've taken? Species you've destroyed? You're a bigger monster than I am."

His face twitched and his fingers tightened around the Doctor's throat, "You destroyed your own people!" The words were shouted with an unbearable amount of venom. The Doctor could feel the Master pressing into his mind. He fought back, trying to shove him out. He'd gotten stronger, over the months, in that regard at least. The Master was stronger.

The Doctor's mind was flooded with images, memories of his past. Of Gallifrey, of the Academy, of his family. Of everything he'd left behind and everything he'd destroyed. The Time War loomed forward from the shadows, in the dark corner where he kept those memories safely locked away.

He stopped fighting and felt his eyes burning as he tried to breath around the harsh grip on his throat. He might've begged if he'd been able to speak, but he couldn't. He just watched as he relived the end of it all – watched mighty Time Lords fall, watched Gallifrey burn. His people, his friends, died screaming.

And suddenly he could breathe again. The Master pulled back and threw him to the ground, staring down at him with blazing eyes as the Doctor struggled to regain his composure.

"You killed all of them," he said, his voice quiet, "Your own people. …And now you're stuck with me. I'm going to make sure you suffer for all of it."

He kicked him swiftly in the gut and the Doctor gasped, choking on the pain as he doubled over and clenched his eyes shut.

It was several seconds before the Doctor sat up, realizing he was once more alone in the conference room. He took deep, shaky breaths and leaned his head firmly against the wall. He wanted to close his eyes, but every time he did he saw those memories coming back again. He couldn't face that. So he stared forward in the empty conference room and tried to remind himself that he still had a chance. The year wasn't over yet and he wasn't going to give up.

~/.\~

"We might have a problem, Sir," the demon approached his leader anxiously. He was currently possessing a young college student who had died during the Decimation – or, who would have died, had he not been possessing him.

The demon in front of him looked up, his eyes a murky, unsettling yellow.

"I don't have time for problems," he said, a dangerous undercurrent of threat lacing his tone.

The demon nodded, "I know," he said, "but… it's important…" he hesitated and backed up a step, "S-Sam Winchester is dead."

The Yellow Eyed Demon stood abruptly, chair tipping back. He placed both hands flat against the table, one finger just barely grazing the old Colt that he had been examining before being interrupted.

"What do you mean he's dead?"

The demon flinched at the tone. He knew as well as any other demon that Sam Winchester was Azazel's pick to be the One. They weren't sure why Azazel liked the Winchester boy so much - there was little chance of him actually persuading a hunter to do what they wanted, after all – but he was insistent about it to the point that they had been told to avoid the Winchester brothers at all cost these last few months.

"He was killed by a Toclafane," the demon explained, "on the Valiant…"

Azazel's yellow eyes were searching, dark and dangerous. He jaw flexed as he tried to figure out some way to salvage this situation. There really wasn't anything he could do about it, but it threw a wrench into all of his plans. He needed Sam Winchester alive. Everything he had been told said that Sam had to be the one to finish it.

He frowned, "And what about our boy Jake?" he asked, "He's still alive?"

The demon nodded, "He's in Europe. The United Kingdom… what's left of it, at least."

Azazel took a deep breath, fingers tightening into fists and he nodded. Maybe there was still hope then. Maybe the Winchester boy wasn't the right one. He felt a sliver of fear trickle in him. Lilith had been very clear about them needing Sam Winchester to be their Messiah, but surely any of the children would do? Lilith was still trapped in Hell, far too deep to claw her way out anytime soon. He had no other option.

"Then I guess we've got our winner, don't we?"

~/.\~

It was dusk outside of the old church and the cold was starting to seep in once more. Shawn was extremely bored. He'd spent the better part of the morning sending messages back and forth with Juliet. Nothing really made the boredom easier and nothing put his mind at ease. His dad and Lassiter were both on the Valiant.

At least Juliet wasn't there. Shawn wouldn't have been able to sit still at all if she'd been on the ship too.

At the moment, he was sitting in the back of the church with Patrick, flinging stray rocks at the back pews and watching them bounce and fall with a thud against the old wooden floor.

"So…" he frowned, "you're not really psychic?"

Jane smirked, sitting next to him. They'd been trying to distract themselves all day. It was hard not to dwell on what they knew was likely happening, but worrying about it wouldn't have done them any good.

"No such thing as psychics," Jane said seriously, watching Shawn tossed another rock. Shawn's face scrunched up and he raised a brow.

"I am totally a psychic," he said, "I've got the magic juju bees."

When Jane just grinned at him, Shawn sat up, abandoned the next rock he was going to throw.

"What?"

"You don't even believe your psychic," he said seriously.

Shawn shrugged, "Jules does," he said.

"Yeah, well, just because people believe it doesn't mean it's true."

Shawn frowned, studying his face, "What do you have against psychics?"

Jane shrugged, "Used to be one," he said, "…Or, pretended to be one anyway. I know the whole song and dance." He stared at Shawn for a long moment, "Didn't do much police consulting back then. Only a couple of cases."

"Dude, why not?" Shawn gaped at him, "Solving crimes is awesome! You get to be like Magnum PI!"

There was a loud noise outside and their heads jerked up. It was a buzzing, screeching sound and then the ground shook. They were both on their feet before the noise had stopped and by the time they'd reached the door, Shawn holding a handgun at his side, they could hear voices. Familiar voices.

Prentiss and Tony were getting out of a small, sleek looking air ship, Prentiss with one arm wrapped around her middle as Tony tried to help her.

She waved him off and pushed him away, "Help Henry," she said, forcing herself to straighten up and grimacing, "He's the one bleeding."

Shawn only heard the words "Henry" and "bleeding" and he dropped the gun, racing out to the ship. Tony was guiding Henry Spencer out, carefully maneuvering his leg – which was wrapped in a bloody strip of fabric – so that there wasn't any pressure on it.

"Dad! What happened?!"

"Where's everyone else?" Jane asked, looking toward the sky, his blue eyes murky.

Prentiss looked pained, "We don't know," she said, "It was dark. We lost sight of them," her eyes went to Henry, who was being looking over by Tony and Shawn, "We need to get him inside and off that leg. We'll explain."

Tony and Shawn started helping Henry, who was assuring Shawn that he was fine and biting back swears as his leg throbbed painfully. Patrick fell in step beside Prentiss, glancing back up at the sky again.

"Lisbon?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Prentiss followed his gaze, "Alive the last I saw," she said, "We were chased off the Valiant by Toclafane and then the Master sent guards out on the remaining ships. We made it clear, but I don't know about everyone else."

Jane's face fell, but he quickly shook the expression off.

"It's Lisbon," he said confidently. "She'll be fine." He'd lost her once already during this hell. He wasn't about to lose her again.

Prentiss smiled at him and nodded, "She will," she said, "I'm sure she'll be here any second now."

~/.\~

"We might as well camp out here," Lisbon said, swallowing thickly. She was trying to stay professional, but she had no idea where they were or where the others were, it was quickly growing dark and they had very little supplies. They'd made it to the States, thankfully, but damage done to the fuel tank by the guards chasing them had caused them to run out of fuel before reaching the church in Oklahoma. They'd come down somewhere in the middle of the woods. She just hoped they weren't too far away from a city.

"It's too dark for us to go anywhere right now."

Grace nodded, her jaw set and her eyes wide and hollow. She was pulling things from the ship – luckily they were stocked with blankets, a first aid kit and water, though no food could be found.

Dean, however, wasn't doing anything. As soon as they'd started losing altitude, Dean had taken them to the ground in a very shaky landing – Lisbon could feel the bruises on her abdomen and chest screaming in protest as they hit the ground – and jerked himself out of the ship, carrying his brother's body with him.

He was sitting with Sam laid out in front of him, staring at the body with a dark, unreadable look in his eyes.

Lisbon decided that for the moment it was best to leave him alone. She didn't know Dean very well, but that dark look reminded her of the way Jane would sometimes get when he was thinking about Red John or his family. She knew it was best not to bother him for a while.

Grace, however, couldn't stand watching Dean look like he was about to explode from all the emotion contained inside of him. After they'd gotten at least relatively settled in the small clearing, she approached him and sank down onto the ground beside him.

He didn't even look up. She tried not to look at Sam's body. Dean had closed his eyes and moved his arms so that they were crossed over his chest and if she tried hard enough she could pretend that he was sleeping. He was too still for her to really believe it, but it made sitting near him easier.

She glanced over at Dean, taking in his tight jaw and clouded green eyes. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she watched him for a long minute before speaking, trying phrase her words delicately.

"There aren't… aren't any shovels," she said quietly, fumbling. She didn't really know how to address this conversation, "but we could find some rocks or something and I can help you while it's still light out if –"

"I'm not burying him,"

It was the first thing Dean had said since they'd escaped from the Valiant. His voice was rough and tight. He didn't look away from Sam.

"Dean… You can't just leave him –"

"I'm not going to bury him," Dean cut her off, his words harsher than before. He turned to look at her, his eyes blazing with fury and grief and Grace bit her lip.

"You're upset, b-"

"I'm not upset," Dean snapped, turning back to Sam's body. "I'm fucking pissed." His jaw tightened and his throat convulsed as he swallowed roughly.

His next words were so quiet Grace wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself.

"It should've been me…"

Her heart fell and she started to reach out to touch him, but he jerked away and she pulled her hand back.

"It's not your fault, Dean," she said quietly. "We all knew –"

"I should've protected him," he shook his head, eyes starting to glisten, "It's my job to protect him. I screwed up…"

His words warbled and Grace wanted to tell him that there was nothing he could've done to change that. Sam had jumped in front of him to save him. Either Dean would've died, or Sam would've. One brother would still have been left alone.

She glanced over at Lisbon, who was watching them with a half-anxious look in her eyes, like she expected Dean to explode any second.

She hesitated and glanced down at Sam's body, biting harder on her lower lip, "Dean, it's not your duty to protect him. Sam's an adult. We all knew the risks. You can't blame yourself."

Dean's fists tightened and he stood up in a quick, twitchy movement. His eyes were sparkling with tears, but he was trying his best to hold them at bay.

"He's my brother," he snapped, "I'm supposed to look out for him and I fucked up. Say whatever you want, this is on me. This is my fault."

Grace couldn't say anything else before he spun around and stormed off, shoulders hunched as he disappeared beyond the trees. After a moment, she stood and moved back over to where they had cleared an area for them to sleep.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

Lisbon frowned, eyeing Sam's body, "Would you be?"

Grace turned away and stared down at the dirt at her feet, "Do you think the others made it back to the church?"

"I hope so," Lisbon said quietly, "I hope so…"

~/.\~

Zachariah was in a strangely buoyant mood when Castiel appeared beside him. He turned his gaze toward his brother slowly, wings flaring bright as he studied him.

"Is something wrong, Castiel?"

"I have to speak with Michael," Castiel said, his voice as careful and even as possible, though he was feeling far more frantic than he had ever been. He'd left his post, ordering Balthazar to keep watch with Uriel.

"Unfortunately, Michael is otherwise engaged," Zachariah told him, "There has been a worrying slip in the converging time lines."

Castiel shook his head, "This is a matter of grave importance," he said, "Sam Winchester has been killed."

There was something – a flash of mirth, it seemed – in Zachariah's expression for just a moment that sent Castiel nearly stumbling back. It was gone an instant later and Zachariah looked appropriately displeased, lips turning down into a frown.

"And Dean Winchester?"

Castiel blinked, "Dean Winchester is alive, but grieving. He is not the problem. Sam Winchester is dead, he isn't supposed to –"

"Relax, Castiel," Zachariah was far too calm. Castiel had seen the other angel when things were going against the Plan – he was livid, fiery and furious. He had reacted with fury when the time lines seemed to begin overlapping one another, mixing together in an incoherent mess.

"Things are not so out of balance," he continued, "Sam Winchester is dead, but it's Dean that we truly need. You are only watching a very narrow view. You have to think of the big picture."

"The big picture?"

Zachariah nodded, "Just return to your post, Castiel," he said, "I'll pass along your report to Michael."

Castiel wanted to protest, frowning deeply. "Shouldn't we do something?" he asked.

"Castiel," Zachariah's tone was sharp, "you have your orders. Follow them."

With a nod and a disturbing feeling of doubt creeping into him, Castiel vanished, returning to his post with Balthazar and Uriel in the blink of an eye.

Uriel turned toward him, "Well? What did Michael say?"

Castiel didn't look at Uriel, instead staring down at Dean Winchester as he fumbled through the woods, cursing and crying.

"Michael is not speaking with us," he said, "Zachariah will pass along the news."

Uriel bristled, "That's it?" There was defiance in his tone, sharp and dangerous. Castiel felt another twist of doubt and fear. Uriel had never disobeyed an order, but he was growing restless and angry – many others were as well. He wondered how much more it would take before any of them fell.

No angel had fallen since Anna had forcibly removed her own Grace. They'd never discovered precisely what had happened to her after she fell, but Castiel doubted very much if it was pleasant.

"What are we supposed to do with a broken hero and his dead demon-blooded brother?"

Castiel felt the doubt rise up more powerfully, "We have orders to follow, Uriel," he said, "We watch Dean Winchester and we wait for Michael to respond. That is all we can do."

~/.\~

Gibbs had calmed down by the time that they'd outrun the Master's ships. Rufus was doing his best to keep the ship on course. He'd never piloted anything like it before and he had certainly never seen anything quite like it.

"We're losing altitude," Gibbs pointed out, his eyes forward, watching the sky darken around them. "You need to put her down before we drop."

Rufus grunted in response, glancing over at Gibbs as he started angling the controls down. They were over land. He was pretty sure they were at least as far as the eastern United States, but it was difficult to make any familiar landmarks around them.

Fornell was asleep in the back. Gibbs had wrapped a bandage around the bloody wound on his head earlier and Fornell had woken up. He hadn't stayed conscious for long, but assured them he would be fine with rest.

The look on Gibbs's face reminded him of something he'd seen more than a few times in the old days before he'd retired from hunting.

"Look," Rufus's voice was rough and he turned his eyes straight ahead again. "I'm sorry about your girl –"

"Jenny," Gibbs cut him off, "Her name was Jenny. Might as well get her name right since you sentenced her to die."

Rufus frowned, "I know what you're feeling right now, but don't put this on me. If we'd have stayed, we would've been captured or killed. Wouldn't have solved nothing. She seems like a tough kind of woman; I'm sure she can handle herself."

Gibbs didn't say anything, but he took in a deep breath. Rufus felt at least a little vindicated. He wasn't one for apologies or feelings and something told him Gibbs wasn't either. At least some of the tension seemed to be gone.

He could see a tree line coming into view and buildings, but no people. Not as far as he could tell anyway.

"Cut the lights," Gibbs said, "Just in case someone spots us."

Rufus grunted in response and a moment later the bright lights on the front of the ship went out. It lost them what little visibility they had, but they were close enough to the ground that they could maneuver by sight.

"Recognize anything?" Rufus asked, squinting. The ground was slowly getting closer. They were over a decent sized area – from the looks of it an abandoned parking lot – so at least they would be able to get the ship down in the air.

Gibbs frowned, "Too dark," he said, "but it looks familiar." He couldn't see much through the windshield.

It was a smooth enough landing, but Rufus still felt a sickening jolt as they touched the concrete beneath them. They climbed out of the ship, carrying the weapons and the supplies between them. The ship was already low on fuel and they doubted that they'd be able to use it again during the day time anyway.

"Place looks deserted," Rufus said, looking around. "No lights, no men on patrol."

"No Toclafane," Gibbs said, "that's a plus." The night was clearer outside of the ship, and he could make out buildings. An old gas station, a realtor's office that looked empty and broken to pieces, what might have been a grocery store, but the name was unreadable.

"I think we're in Dale City," he said after a moment. "It's not far from Quantico. We can make camp nearby for the night, get rid of the ship somewhere and maybe make it back to the safe house we set up."

Rufus nodded, "Grocery store or gas station?"

"Grocery's bigger," Gibbs said, "There might be something worth eating in there too."

"Sounds good to me," Rufus shifted the gun and blankets in his hands. "We'll see to that shoulder too."

Gibbs glanced down at his throbbing shoulder. He'd made a makeshift sling for himself, the blood thick and stick down his arm.

"Got much medical training?"

"Enough to stay alive," Rufus said, snatching the med kit from the ground. He leaned inside the ship again and nudged Fornell lightly. Thankfully, it woke the man up. Rufus figured that meant that the damage from the head wound wasn't too severe. They'd still need to keep an eye on him.

"We landed," he said, stepping back. "Grab the other guns and water. We're making camp in the store."

Fornell winced as he sat up and nodded, putting a hand to his head.

"No church, huh?"

"Losing too much altitude," Gibbs said, "We weren't going to make back there. We'll have to make due."

"Alright," Fornell slid outside, stumbling on his feet for a moment, "As long as we're not in the ship all night. Let's get moving."

~/.\~

McGee landed the air ship not far from the church. Hotch climbed out and stared at the ship that was a few yards away from them, grateful that at least someone had made it back to the church. They approached the church cautiously, hearing faint voices inside.

Prentiss and Tony were outside seconds later, both wielding handguns. As soon as they spotted their friends, they grinned, though Tony glanced up toward the sky with anxious eyes.

"No Gibbs?"

"We haven't seen him," McGee said, "He was with Fornell, I think."

Tony swore quietly, but nodded and waved them all inside, stopping for a moment to stare at Jack before shaking his head.

"You really do come back,"

"Every time," Jack said, trying to affect a casual tone, but grimacing slightly as he did.

Prentiss eyed him sadly, "That sounds awful,"

"It's worse," Jack still sounded like he was trying to brush it off, but his eyes were dark. He looked around the church. It was small and cold and poorly suited to living, but it was shelter. He'd stayed in worse places.

"McGee!" Patrick was sitting at the computer, "Thank god! We've been trying to get connected to the others to send them a message and see if they've heard from anyone…"

McGee turned toward the computer, untangling his way through the cables and tapping against the side of the monitor.

"Not as easy as you guys make it look," Prentiss said, taking a seat at the first pew and grimacing. Henry was laid out next to her, his leg wrapped tightly and elevated. He was pale and sleeping, but still breathing. Shawn was sitting on the floor at his side, trying not to look overly concerned, but his face was tight and his hand twitched toward his father's ever now and then like he wanted to hold it, but wasn't sure if he should or not.

"Everyone alright here?" Rigsby asked, looking around at them. He got murmured answers in the affirmative.

"No sign of Lisbon? Or Grace?"

"None," Jane answered, only glancing up at Rigsby for a moment.

"They got off the ship," he said, "I think we all made it off the ship, but we were chased by the Master's guards. We lost sight of each other."

McGee looked up from the computer, "We're connected," he said, "I can send messages out to everyone and see if they've heard anything yet." His eyes traveled to Jack, "And then maybe we can finish that conversation about the Doctor's plan…"

~/.\~

"Oh, oh, we've got a message!" Charlie suddenly stood, waving her arms around. Gus and Juliet were at her side in seconds, Grace Holloway taking a few minutes longer as she came in from the dining area.

"Is everything alright? Did they get him?" Juliet's voice was tight.

They'd been keeping an eye on any of the Master's updates, but they hadn't heard anything yet. They hoped that was a good sign, but it could just mean he was getting ready for something big.

"Give me a second," Charlie was deciphering the coded message with narrowed eyes. Her face fell as she read and she sat back.

"No," she said quietly, "They didn't. Shawn and Jane are still at the church and Agent Hotchner, McGee, DiNozzo and Prentiss are there with Henry and Rigsby…"

"What about Teresa?" Grace said, "Detective Lassiter?"

Charlie shook her head, "No word yet. They… McGee says they didn't all make it off the Valiant and they don't know how many of them are out there."

Gus stared at the screen, "But… do they know who… I mean, do they know who got off alive?"

Charlie bit her lip, "Too much happened… they lost sight of everyone when they were escaping…"

"God…" Grace covered her mouth with a shaking hand, her eyes wide.

Charlie hesitated, eyes still on the screen. She was pale and chewing her lips raw. "…They have Jack Harkness with them…"

Juliet blinked, "The… the man from the Valiant?"

She nodded, "They're trying to contact Sarah Jane and the others in the UK. They said Jack knows the Master's plan, but he's afraid it's too risky to share over the network…"

"And there's been nothing else from the Doctor?" Grace asked carefully.

"Not today…" Charlie said, "At least, nothing that Sarah Jane's told us about. I'm sure it can't be easy for him to connect with us from where he is…"

Grace nodded, but her face was distant. Some part of her desperately wanted to speak with the Doctor again. To see him. Anything to reassure herself that he was still the same brilliant, confusing man she'd met all those years ago.

"He'll keep trying if he can," she said confidently, "We'll hear more from him."

~/.\~

"Do they know about Sam and Dean?" Adam asked nervously, glancing from the computer to Ash as he relayed the message that they'd received from the church minutes ago.

"I asked…" Ash hesitated, "Dean made it off as far as they know. He was with that CBI woman and the cop."

Adam frowned, "And Sam?"

"No word on Sam…" Ash spoke carefully, avoiding meeting Adam's eyes. He wasn't sure how to tell the kid that he'd lost one of his brothers after just getting to know him.

Adam frowned, "They… they don't know if Sam got off the ship?"

"No," Ash said, "They lost track of everyone when they were getting off the ship. The Master sent his ships after 'em and they had to get out of there or get killed themselves."

Adam swallowed, "What about Rufus and Henricksen? Garth and Gordon and Martin?"

"Martin and Gordon didn't make it," Ash said, "They're pretty sure Henricksen didn't get off the ship, but they don't know about Garth… They're trying to figure out what happened to everyone themselves."

Adam was pale. He'd seen a lot of death and lost a lot of people in the last several months, but it seemed to hit him harder now. Especially Henricksen and Sam. He'd gotten closer to either of them than anyone else.

"Don't worry kid," Ash told him, "We've got Jack Harkness with us now; that ought to give us something to figure this mess out. And Dean'll be fine. He's a survivor."

"But not Sam?"

Ash hesitated again, "Dean will do whatever it takes to keep Sam safe," It wasn't really a lie, after all. Dean was so set on taking care of Sam that he would willingly put himself in the line of fire to stop him getting hurt. Ash simply neglected to tell Adam that there wasn't much Dean could do to help Sam anymore.

He felt a pit in his stomach, but couldn't bring himself to tell Adam the truth. The kid already looked crushed. He couldn't make it worse.

~/.\~

"No Gibbs?" Abby's voice warbled as she and Garcia read the messages out to Spencer and Ducky.

"I'm sure he's fine, Abigail," Ducky said gently, "They said he was getting off the ship."

"But they don't know where he is!" Abby said, "They have to find him, Ducky! Gibbs… Gibbs can't be missing. And Director Shepard…" her lip quivered, but she set her jaw.

"We have to look for him. If they left the Valiant hours ago they have to be in the US by now. We need to send out search parties, or –"

"Abby, there's nothing we can do," Spencer said softly, "We just have to wait and hope we find out more soon. It would be pointless to send out a search party. We have no idea where we would even start."

Abby sent him an angry glare, "We have to do something! We cannot just sit around while Gibbs could be out there alone, cold and hurt and hungry and –"

"Abby, Abby," Garcia reached out and put a hand on Abby's shoulder. "Gibbs will be fine. You know he will. They'll find him."

Abby pressed her lips together and stared at Garcia, "And everyone else?" she asked, "They don't even know who's alive and who isn't… We need to do something. I can't just sit here. There's got to be something we can do."

Garcia looked back at the computer. She knew exactly what she meant. She felt useless sitting there at the computer. When she was working for the FBI she knew that she was doing something good in her small little lair, but right then she felt like there was nothing she could do and her friends were out there dying while she sat there.

Spencer suddenly sat down next to her, "They'll figure it out," he said, "We already knew this wasn't going to be easy. Right now, we just need to wait to hear back from Sarah Jane and Martha and find out what Jack Harkness has to say."

The two women nodded, but neither looked particularly relieved. Spencer looked back at Ducky and the older man stood.

"Someone should let Jessica know Aaron is alright," he said softly, "She'll be relieved."

~/.\~

Australia was fairly warm, but not overly hot. It was a nice relief from the extreme and unpleasant weather that Martha had suffered through over the last several months. She hadn't been there for very long, but she at least had managed to find a safe house that had access to a computer.

"This is safe?" the dark haired woman who seemed to be in charge of the place asked, watching Martha carefully.

"We haven't had much contact with anyone outside our house in months."

"It's safe," Martha assured her, "I've done this plenty of times. We'll be fine. I need to find out what's happened on the Valiant as soon as possible…"

Her voice tensed as she glanced toward the computer. She'd already sent Sarah Jane a message asking if she knew anything, but hadn't heard back yet. Sherlock hadn't replied either, but thankfully she finally managed to get through to the old church where the assassination party had been staying.

She was horrified at the story they told her, but part of her heart swelled at hearing that Jack, Spencer and her family had gotten off the ship. She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled faintly. At least her family was safer on the ground than they were as the Master's captives.

"Thank you, Doctor," she whispered, her chest feeling less tight.

At least Jack was with the others in America now. Maybe he could explain the Doctor's plan and help keep them from doing something like this again. She promised to keep any eye out for any of the others that had made it off the ship but not back to the church. She hoped for their sake that wherever they were, they were safe and out of the way.

She sent a message to Sarah Jane and Sherlock to look out for her family. If they left somewhere near London maybe they were close by. She hoped they'd get to somewhere where they could be safe.

She disconnected and thanked the woman.

"When are we going to hear this story of ours, Miss Jones?"

Martha smiled faintly, "As soon as you can get everyone gathered in here," she said, "I'll tell you everything about the Doctor…"

~/.\~

A/N: I'm not sure what I think about this chapter, but I feel fairly confident in it. I'm sorry I took a bit to get it up – between classes, some health issues and me wanting to be extra sure that this chapter didn't have any horrible errors, it took me some time. I'm also making so revisions to earlier chapters – nothing too major, just reworking some scenes to make them fit better with the characters and storyline. I'll let you guys know when the revisions are finished so you can look over those scenes again if you want.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please don't forget to review!