Chapter Nine

 Martha                

The thought occurred to her several times that they should have left the room by now. Or at least gotten out of bed, the sky had been dark for ages. Exactly how long she wasn’t sure, she wasn’t sure of much right now, except the wonderful things that were happening her body.

“Hmmm.…”  It was the extent of her ability to communicate, her mind rendered useless as Dean’s mouth moved at the small of her back, alternating between soft, lingering kisses and hot strokes of his tongue. Martha felt his hand sliding up her thighs, and she lifted her ass slightly as he cupped the firm cheeks.

“Dean…” she was able to gasp out the word and he delivered one more kiss before lifting head. She turned on her side and their eyes met as his hand lightly massaged her hip. They didn’t speak for while, just watched each other across the bed, a smile forming on both their lips. She spoke first, her voice slightly breathless as the confession tumbled out.

“I don’t want to lea—“

“Neither do I.” He finished for her, and then he was at her side, laying his body next to hers. Martha felt his arm wrap around her waist, and she moved closer, pressing herself tightly against him. She heard his small intake of breath as her legs slid against his cock, and his hold tightened on her as his shaft became rigid.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Martha whispered as his hands found her ass once more. “I mean, there are demons and things—out there…and we haven’t found your—Oh, God...”

His fingers had slid between her thighs and began rubbing the soaked lips of her slit. Martha’s legs parted slightly, and his fingers found her clit, gently teasing the swollen nub.

“This is where I want to be.” Dean whispered against her ear, and her eyes closed as his breath warmed her skin. “The rest of them can wait.”

His fingers plunged inside her and she gasped; her hips lifting as he slowly pumped them in and out of her sex. Dean lowered his head and kissed her, the wet heat of his tongue making her whimper softly. She was thrusting her hips against his hand, and he broke the kiss to whisper hoarsely against her lips.

“Stay with me.” Dean pulled her closer, rolling his body until she lay on top of him. His hand reached up to push a lock of hair behind her ear as she stared down at him, her eyes tracing ever inch of his face.

“Just—stay with me.” Dean said again and Martha nodded before kissing him softly. His hands plunged into her hair, and she slid her groin down slightly, her hand reaching down to grasp the wide girth of his cock. She ended the kiss as she lifted her body, pressing the large head against her sex. Their moans mingled together as she slowly took him inside her, and she felt her slick walls stretch, accommodating him as his shaft filled her completely.

“Martha.” He whispered, and his eyes drifted shut as she began to ride him. Martha moved her hips in a steady, slow rhythm, at times creating small circles as she worked his cock against her soaking canal. Dean lifted his hips against her, and his hands reached up to find her breasts, teasing the aroused nipples. Martha tilted her body forward, gasping the iron headboard as her movements became faster. She was covered in sweat, her breathing labored as she worked her body against him and came suddenly, almost violently, the force of it causing her to cry out. His hands moved down to grip her hips, keeping her upright as she moved. Dean lifted his chest and pressed it against hers, and his arms wrapped around her as she ground her hips against his. Martha felt her body tense as a shattering warmth rush through her, and she clung to him, slightly desperate as the second orgasm wracked her body. Dean let out a long, hard groan and she felt his release inside her, his muscles become hard under her hands, before slowly relaxing against her.

They held each other, heads resting on each other’s shoulders, their hearts pounding. She felt Dean kiss her shoulder, and her eyes closed tightly, overwhelmed by the rush of tenderness that rushed through her.

God, what was this? What was happening…

“Dean—“

“Just a little longer.” He said, and pulled her closer against him. She nodded, and ran her hands through his hair, more than willing to hold onto what they’d just shared.

Just a little longer.

The Doctor  

“This has to end.”

The Doctor’s eyes never wavered as he spoke, but he felt Sam and Donna’s enthusiastic nods beside him, Donna even going as far as giving a small whistle of relief.

“Bloody time you made that mental jump.” She whispered, and he only grimaced in response. Sam slid closer to him, his deep voice traveling through the underground tunnel despite his hushed tone.

“So, exactly why are we afraid of the trash can?”

“Because it can kill us, Samuel.”

“Oh. Okay.” Sam was silent a moment, before he spoke again.

“Seriously?”

“It’s a Dalek, Sam. It may not look like much, but those things have destroyed entire planets, galaxies. Even—even species.”

“The trash can?”

“Yes, yes, the bloody trashcan.” The Doctor began to walk toward the Dalek, who’d remained still throughout this exchange. No wonder the boy had a difficult time grasping the danger. Sitting there that way, he looked harmless, nothing like the mindless killing machine he was raised to be.

They were deep inside the New York sewer tunnels, he didn’t know exactly when, but if the pattern held, he’d guess it was sometime in the 1930s, close to when he and Martha had stumbled upon Daleks here the first go round. They’d solved that problem of course, but now he’d come across this lot, a forgotten Dalek, perhaps deserted by his people.

The ones that managed to escape him anyway.

“That thing is creepin’ me out, can we go?” Donna said. The Doctor looked back at them, noting the emphatic shaking of Sam’s head.

“We can’t go until—”

“Donna’s right.” The Doctor interrupted. She smiled triumphantly at Sam, who only looked at him with confusion.

“But we just got here.”

“There’s nothing out there we need to see.” He began to walk towards them, careful to make a wide circle around the mute Dalek. Any other day, he’d study the thing, attempt to discover what had rendered him into this catatonic state. But not now. He refused to waste another moment on a Dalek when Martha was out there, waiting for him.

“I’ve decided to take new approach.” He said, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve grown slightly impatient with this one; it’s only led me to—a Dalek. And that’s the last place I should be. Or want to be for that matter.”

“So what now?” Sam said.

“Now we—”

“Run!” Donna shouted, her blue eyes widening as she stared past them. “We run our bloody arses off!”

The Doctor spun around to see the Dalek slowly coming to life, his small gun, shifting back and forth as his body began to move. The Doctor’s grip on Sam’s shoulder tightened as he pushed him toward the TARDIS, his shouts echoing Donna’s previous ones.

“Run! Hurry Sam!”

Sam quickly obeyed, and they were able to close the TARDIS doors before the first shot was fired. The Doctor took in both of their terrified faces, before stalking over to the central console of the TARDIS, reaching for the small rectangular shaped door near the center. He hesitated for a moment, his breathing heavy as he processed what he was about to do.

“You can’t be serious.” He heard Donna say and he felt all his pent up anger and frustration burning inside him as he looked up at her. She took a step back, but didn’t break away from his gaze.

“Doctor.” She said

“This has to end.”  He said, then hesitated for a moment. “Cover your eyes.”

His hands pried open the small door, a blindingly bright light filling the room.

“Sam!” he called out, his ears ringing from the shear energy being released. “Come, now! Hurry.”

Sam quickly moved beside him, his hand lifted to shield his eyes from the glare.

“What is it?” Sam shouted, and The Doctor took his hand, pressing it inside the brightly lit rectangle. Sam averted his eyes, but didn’t pull away as the light crept slowly up his arm.

“The heart.” The Doctor replied, and felt the TARDIS began to move. The green column began to slowly move up and down, the sound of takeoff clear through the ship’s interior. The Doctor quickly pulled Sam’s hand from the light, and pressed the flap down again, the interior growing significantly dimmer than before.

“That was the heart of the TARDIS.” The Doctor said, his voice slightly breathless. “And if my theory is correct, your biological imprint has just set a course back home. Your home I mean. Or somewhere thereabouts.”

And to Martha.

“Your theory?” Donna said, before smacking him on the arm. “You put his hand in that thing for a bloody theory?  It could have ate him.”

“The TARDIS doesn’t eat people Donna. And it’s a sound theory, Sam isn’t like me, he’s human. Only one lifetime for the TARDIS to process, this will work. It has to.”

“Says you, you can barely drive that thing, you sure as hell didn’t know what that—that little knob would do when Martha fixed it. It could have ripped his skin clear off his bones—”

“I’m alright, Donna.” Sam said, and she only grumbled in response, crossing her arms under her chest. The Doctor cleared his throat and slid his fingers across the console. He was sure the TARIS wouldn’t—although there was this one time—

“There’s just one problem.” Sam said, and the Doctor lifted his head to meet Sam’s eyes.

“Hmm, what was that?”

“There’s a small problem.” Sam said again, and The Doctor’s brow furrowed.

“You said this thing should be taking me home?”

The Doctor nodded, and crossed arms across his chest.

“Yes, your body signature was imprinted when you touched the heart, and since the ship likely brought you here in the first place, it would be a logical conclusion that—”

“But I don’t have a home.” Sam interrupted.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have—me and Dean, we move around a lot, we don’t have a home. Not for a while now.”

The Doctor blew out a puff of air and leaned back against the railing surrounding the console.

“Perhaps I should have thought of that part.” He said and Donna snorted loudly.

“Brilliant my bloody arse.”

Martha 

After a small round of arguing, followed by another quick shag, Dean finally allowed her to leave the bedroom for a quick rummage through the kitchen, her growling stomach emphasizing her argument. Martha tossed on her jeans and his t-shirt, which she’d rummaged out of a duffel bag that he’d sat in the corner.

“See if she has those cookies, the one’s with the chocolate in the middle.” He said as she walked toward the door.

“You’re stealing her cookies?” she said, and he grinned.

“I always steal Ellen’s cookies, it’s expected. Though technically, you’re the one doing the stealing, I’m just a bystander in all this.”

“So I suppose I can keep them to myself then.” Martha said as she opened the door. “You being so innocent and everything.”

“You don’t mess with a man’s cookies Martha.”  He gave her a slightly wicked grin. “Not unless he asks you to.”

“Pervert.”

“Hell, yes. Hurry back, and I’ll show you exactly how perverted I can be.”

She was still smiling as she made her way into the darkly lit kitchen, finding the cookies shoved all the way to the back of the shelf. She peered at the package, and sighed at the warning thickly inked in black magic marker.

STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY COOKIES DEAN.

“She means it too.”

Martha almost dropped the bag to the floor as she spun around, her heart pounding hard in her chest.

“Ellen’s a bit of a bitch when it comes to her cookies, almost as much as Dean. But not quite.”

Martha’s eyes widened as she took in the man sitting at the kitchen table.

“You’re—you’re him.”

The brown eyes softened as he smiled at her, gesturing to the seat on the other side of the table.

“Name’s John.” He said. “I’m—I was Dean’s father. And you look like you should sit down, I hate to have you pass out on me or something. I get that sometimes.”

Martha nodded and slowly drifted toward the seat, sinking down slowly so she wouldn’t tip over. She was a bit disoriented, and she realized belatedly that her hands had completely crushed the bag, the cookies becoming small crumbles in her hands.

“Bloody hell.” She murmured, and he laughed, a deep, melodious laugh that instantly put her at ease.

“You know, my boy’s had questionable taste in women over the years. But you impress me Martha Jones.”

“You know my name.” It was a statement rather than a question, an obvious one really. John nodded, leaning back in the chair.

“I’ve been around.” He said. “I keep an eye on my boys now and again.”

“Oh.” She said. “But you—I mean, you weren’t—just now—“

“No.”

“Of course.” She laughed a little too loudly, and could feel her face burning. “I mean I’m sure you wouldn’t—that is—why are you here?  I mean, how am I seeing you, I’m not...”

“Crazy?  No.” he smiled. “But you knew that already. Can’t really be part of your imagination if you’ve never seen me before.”

“There are other ways.’ She hedged.

“Are we really going to waste time with this?” he said

“Why haven’t you shown yourself to Dean?” she countered. “I haven’t known him very long, but I know he’d love to see you—”

“I’ve caused him enough pain for one lifetime.” John said, his eyes darkening a bit. “The last thing he needs is me haunting him on top of the rest. He does enough of that guilt shit on his own without seeing my ugly mug again.”

“The rest?” she said.

A hand ran across his hair in a gesture so like his son’s it startled her.

“Dean—I sold my soul to a demon, so Dean could live.” John said quietly. “To the demon that killed his mother. So my boy could live.”

Martha resisted the urge to touch him, his sorrow palpable across the table. But she didn’t know how this all worked, he could vanish if she tried to make contact.

“That’s dreadful, I’m so sorry.”

“His mother died when he was a boy, and then I left him. After that—all he has is Sam, at least that’s all he thinks he has. And now, with his brother gone….”

“He’s alone” Martha finished quietly. John smiled at her again.

“No.” he said. “He has you.”

She bit her lip, remembering how Dean held her only moments before. And how good it felt, to have those arms wrapped around her body. No one had ever held her like that, not even Tom. Certainly not The Doctor.

“But I’m—I’m not…”

“He needs you.” John said, standing up from the table. “And you need him. Especially now.”

“What? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“He’s coming for you Martha.”

“You mean Dean.” She said. “That—demon, Lilith. She wants Dean, not me. I’m only in her way, that’s why—”

“He wants you Adriana.” He said, and his body began to shimmer and fade before her eyes. Martha stood up quickly, panic rising in her chest.

“What! Don’t just—shit, wait! Why did you….”

Her voice trailed off as he faded from view, and she stared down at the crumbled bag of cookies.

Why had he called her by her middle name?

It took him a few minutes to realize where they were. But when he did, a strange mix of emotions ran through him. Happiness maybe?  Regret, most likely. But perhaps even a little fear, though he wasn’t sure what he was afraid of.

He was home.

“I grew up here.” Sam said aloud as The Doctor and Donna walked up beside him. That wasn’t really accurate. While the house looked exactly the same, he and Dean hadn’t spent as much time there as they probably should have. Dad was always taking them out on the road, sometimes leaving them with Bobby, but sometimes they’d just stay in a hotel, waiting for him to come back from whatever hunt he’d found. But there were a few Christmases where they’d actually make it back, they’d even get a tree and shit, and he loved it.

God, how had he forgotten about this place?

“There now, you see!’ The Doctor said, smiling broadly at Donna. “Sam here did have a home, it just slipped his mind.”

“You really want to start that up again?” Donna said, and The Doctor averted his eyes, turning back towards Sam.

“Now then. We just need settle on the current date, make sure you don’t run into yourself, that sort of thing.”

“What would…”

“It’s better if you don’t.” The Doctor said quickly, his eyes searching the deserted street. “Let’s just leave it there—my god, this street is empty. Where is everyone?”

Sam and Donna began to look around, quickly drawing the same conclusion. There were no cars, no pedestrians of any kind, which was—strange. It was your typical suburban neighborhood, and in the middle of the day. Where were the soccer moms, the kids playing on the sidewalk?

“I don’t like this.” Sam said, and then they heard the sound, right before The Doctor could answer.

“EXTERMINATE!  EXTERMINATE!”

The Doctor’s mouth fell open as his face tightened with irritation.

“You have got to be kidding me.” The Doctor said, right before the Dalek fired a laser beam several inches above his head. They all fell to the ground as a tree branch crashed onto a nearby lawn.

“Did they follow us?” Donna shouted, ducking her head for cover.

Sam looked up at the trashcan as it began to roll towards them. He turned to The Doctor, who glared at the thing approaching them, eyes dark with fury.

“Suggestions?” Sam said.

“Only one.” The Doctor replied.

“Run.”

Dean 

“Well, the dead has arisen.” Bobby grumbled as Dean made his way into Ellen’s kitchen. Martha was currently showering in the bathroom, and had kicked him out after he’d lathered and rinsed her thoroughly. He’d made his way to the front of the house to find Ellen and Bobby sitting at the kitchen table, ice cold beers in hand, and Bobby flipping through another one of his ratty old books.

“Can I get me one of those?” Dean said nodding toward the beers, which only earned a glare from Ellen. She shook a cookie bag at him, her brown eyes lit with anger.

“Do we have to do this every fucking time you visit?”

“I’m not guilty this time around, sorry.” Dean said. He leaned against the counter, his eyes brows lifting slightly. “I haven’t been in here all day, maybe you got mice.”

“I ain’t got fucking mice, I got a freeloader who steals my goddamn cookies.” Ellen tossed the bag on the table and pushed up from her seat. “But I should have known better, you been stealing those things ever since you were little.”

“What can I say, I’m consistent.” Dean said, and nodded toward the bag. “Any left in there?”

“Boy, don’t make me cut you.”

“He’s probably telling the truth, you know.” Bobby said as he turned a yellowing page of his book. “Couldn’t even stay in the house without blushin’ the way them two were carrying on.”

Dean moved to the refrigerator and swiped a beer, hiding the small grin that formed on his lips. Martha was a screamer.

“Not sure what you mean.” Dean’s face was expressionless as he turned around, and Bobby just rolled his eyes.

“Right.” He said, and Ellen hit him on the shoulder.

“For god sakes Bobby, if they wanna fuck like rabbits, let’em.” She said. “Can’t count how many times I got worked up after a hunt, they’re young. Let’em be young.”

“Thank you Ellen.” Dean said. “But not for the visual, you can take that back.”

“Suck it Dean.” She said, sliding back into her chair. “And Martha’s a sweet girl, smart and pretty. And brave as hell, count your blessings on that one.”

He couldn’t stop the smile this time, and he looked down at his beer, remembering how she felt beneath him. Being with her, he’d been able to forget all the shit for awhile and it was nice. Hell, it was fucking great. And it was taking everything in him not to run down that hall and find her again.

“Yeah, she’s alright.” Dean said, putting the beer to his lips. Ellen snorted at this, while Bobby’s eyes finally lifted from the text.

“Just watch yourself Dean.” Bobby said, and Dean lifted an eyebrow, placing the beer on the counter behind him.

“What’s that mean?” Dean said, and Bobby sighed heavily.

“It means that cute little accent of hers is there for a reason. She’s got a life back home Dean, and once this is over…”

“You done playin’ papa?” Dean snapped, grabbing up his drink again. “Cause I’m done hearin’ it.”

“You ain’t heard a fucking thing boy.” Bobby said. “But then you never do.”

“You guys find something or what?” Dean said, nodding toward the book on the table. Bobby opened his mouth, but was cut off by the loud roar of an engine from outside. They all stared at each other as Ellen’s dogs began to bark frantically, then hurried to screened door as bright headlights illuminated the yard. Ellen grabbed the shotgun leaning against the doorframe, and they each barreled outside, eyes squinting as they were blinded by the high beams.

“You think it’s a demon?” Bobby called out, and Dean shrugged.

“Maybe—maybe not, that is one big motherfucking truck. Is that a Hummer?”

Ellen cocked the shotgun as the driver killed the engine, pointing at the large windshield.

“Don’t give a shit.” She said as driver moved closer. “But it’s fucking up my rose bushes.”

The lights of the truck dimmed, likely from some kind of automatic timer, and the man approaching them came into view. Dean took in the short, aggressively styled brown hair, the long duster coat swinging at his back. His eyes narrowed as the focused on the gun at the man’s hip.

“He’s got—”

“I know.” Ellen said, lifting the shotgun slightly. The man stopped a few feet away, and glanced over at the black dogs growing from behind the fence. He nodded toward them, before bringing his eyes back to Ellen.

“Cute. Yours?” he said.

“Purebred.” She said. “And they’ll bite the hell out of strangers if I let’em.”

The smile widened.

“Actually, I was talking about him.” he said, pointing toward Dean. “Although, I must say, you’re quite disarming in your own right, you must be Ellen.”

“What the fuck?” Ellen and Dean spoke at the same time as the screen door opened behind them. Dean heard Martha’s short gasp, and began to warn her away, only to have her run past him, jumping into the man’s waiting arms.

“Jack!” she shouted as she embraced him, and the man laughed in response, catching her easily.

“Ah, Martha Jones.” The man said, hugging her tightly. “Voice of a nightingale. I’ve been looking for you sweetheart.”

Dean felt his chest tighten as he watched them, his hand flexing at his side. His eyes widened as the realization hit, catching him slightly off guard.

Holy shit, he was jealous.

Sam 

Sam felt the heat of the laser beam only inches from his body but he kept running. There were three of them, at least, that’s how many he’d counted before he took off. He’d been separated from Donna and The Doctor, both calling out, but neither able to reach him before the shooting began in earnest. So he’d run to the back of the house, praying the large tree was still where he remembered it.

Though if he had time to think on this a bit more before acting, he would have realized how damn stupid his plan was. Climbing a tree? And he was the smart brother?

Sam tripped over a large root in the yard, and scrambled up to his feet again. The trashcans kept shouting, over and over again. Exterminate. Like he was fucking bug or something.

“God, help me.” He whispered, and another laser passed him as he ducked down, hitting the large tree he’d run to. The thick truck began to splinter down the middle, and Sam threw his body to the ground as a large half fell towards the house.

“No.” he whispered as leaves and branches crashed through the roof, into the interior of the house, windows shattering as wood crumbled beneath the tree’s weight. He could make out the Spiderman curtains in one of the back windows and realized it was his childhood bedroom, being torn to shreds.

His fucking home.

“EXTERMINATE! SURRENDER OR BE EXTERMINATED.”

His chest began to rise and fall, his body growing hot with anger. There was rage, so much rage burning inside him, and he wondered if this is what The Doctor felt like, when the sun took him over. Sam assumed that it was painful, all that heat in his body. But now he wondered if he also felt—powerful.

“Sam!’

Donna. That was Donna calling out to him, but he couldn’t answer, couldn’t see her. There was too much….

“Sam, get away from there!”

The Doctor. That was—god, what was this? What was happening…

He lifted his eyes toward the Daleks and they fell into silence, their small lasers turning downward. They backed away slowly, as the feeling inside him grew. Pulsing, red hot energy. And he moved toward them.

“You’re afraid.” He said, and he could have sworn he saw them shaking. “You fear me. You---fear me. FEAR ME….”

A red hot pain stung his cheek, and his head flew backwards as his jawbone popped loudly. Sam brought a hand to his face, his eyes wide as he turned back to a slightly frantic Donna, who now stood between him and the Daleks.

“Holy fuck—did you just hit me?” Sam cried, and Donna snapped her fingers in his face.

“Yes, demon boy.” She said. “Not sure you realized you went all exorcist on us just now, your bloody eyes were white, glowin’ and everything.”

“My what?”

“She’s right.” The Doctor said as he walked towards the Daleks. He leaned closer to  them for a moment, before straightening again, turning his eyes toward Sam.

“Your eyes were bright, almost like the TARDIS. Thought it was the TARDIS actually, until I saw this.”

“Saw what?” Sam said, still holding his aching jaw. Apparently Donna was stronger than she looked.

“They’re dead.” The Doctor said, pointing toward the Daleks. “All three, just---dead. And while I may not know everything about my ship, I do know that she would never do something like this.”

Sam eyed the Daleks as a sliver of fear rushed through him.

“So what are you saying?” Sam said.

“I’m saying that I’m starting believe you.” The Doctor said. “I believe there is something inside you, something that could possibly—well, I can’t really say it quite yet, but you know what I’m getting at.”

“You believe in demons?”  Donna said. “Well, knock me over with a feather, this is a day for surprises. First Sam with the glowy thing, and now—”

“I didn’t say I believe, I can’t—I’m just finding it difficult to follow the same thought patterns, when all this is in front of me. I felt something, when Sam—went glowy, as you put it. I felt fear.”

“I think we all felt that.” Donna said, but the Doctor walked towards Sam, his brown eyes studying him intently.  

“No..this was more than just emotion, this was—forced. You caused that fear, you willed it inside them.” The Doctor said, pointing to the Daleks. “You willed it into me. And I’m not sure, but it seemed as if it—well, it felt like—”

Sam finished his sentence, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he stared at the dead Daleks.

“It felt like I was feeding.”

Ruby  

Ruby shook the chains of her cuffs for the umpteeth time, letting out a deep sigh of frustration. She’d been in the basement of Ellen’s house for hours now, the thick iron combining with the devil’s trap below her feet to render her completely incapacitated. Now, all she could do was wait, for Dean to put a bullet through her head with that fucking Colt, or for Lilith to make good on her promise to see her suffer. She was fucked from both ends, anyway she looked at it, and even that asshole Gordon had apparently disappeared on her

Can’t count on anyone these days.

She was just about to let out another round of bitching when she felt it. A cool rush of power moving through her body, her eyes turning black as the feeling grew stronger. Every nerve tingled, ever inch of her ached with yearning. Ruby gasped loudly, tilting her eyes up to the beamed ceiling.

Then she smiled.

“Sam.” She breathed. “Oh, baby, I found you.”