Sam 

He wasn’t happy about being left behind, but he understood. The idea of seeing Ruby didn’t really appeal to him anyway, he’d had enough her clingy shit to last him a lifetime. The bitching about him neglecting his gift had worn thin before this mess even started, and when Dean told him she was downstairs—and alive—he realized he’d had enough. His brother was right, she was acting like a fucking stalker, and whatever was happening with this—thing inside him, she was the last person he wanted to share it with. So he’d hung back, wished them luck, and reassured himself that once this was over, he’d make sure that the next time he or Dean said the word Ruby, it damn sentence would be past tense.

“Sam—get your gear!” Ellen barked at him though the kitchen door and he immediately went in to action, finding his brother’s shotgun leaning against a nearby wall. He checked the barrel, making sure it was loaded and could hear Ellen shouting orders in the front yard, Jack responding quickly in kind. There were more voices then, which told him help had finally arrived, fellow hunters who’d actually picked up their damn phones. And the demons were coming—from the sound of things they were almost here, and Sam took a deep breath, readying himself for the fight. He hadn’t been away for long, but the barrel felt odd in his hands, the weight almost unnatural.  Had he forgotten how to do this?

The question went unanswered as the sound of a chair sliding across the floor made him spin around, instantly aiming the gun at the intruder. He caught sight of Donna’s red hair, her blue eyes wide with fear, and lowered the gun, letting out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Bugger me—did you just—oh god.” Donna inhaled deeply, and bent at the waist, her hands going to her temples.

“I think my life just flashed before my eyes.” She said. “And I haven’t been shagged nearly enough, it was bloody depressing.”

A small smile formed on Sam’s lips and he held up what he hoped was a reassuring hand, placing the gun on a nearby table.

“Donna, I’m sorry.” He said as he walked towards her. “You surprised me and—there’s demons outside, they’re coming. So we gotta get ready.”

Donna lifted her head, and smoothed down her hair, her features becoming calmer then before.

“I’m fine—it’s fine. I understand—demons you say? That’s—alarming.”

“Yeah.” Sam said, the smile broadening. “But don’t worry, this is what we do. What I do. And well—it’s not a bad deal when something like this goes down, being surrounded by hunters.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.” She said. Her smile slowly began to fade, and she began to bite her bottom lip, eyes worried.

“What?” Sam said. “What wrong.”

“I just—what you said, that I shouldn’t worry. Because you lot will protect me, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.” Sam was only a few feet away from her now and he lifted a hand to her arm, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t promise things won’t get bad, but we—”

“But here’s what I don’t get.” Donna continued. “You’re protecting me, but who’s watching after you? Where’s your brother? Did he leave?”

The smile on Sam’s face faltered for a moment, before strengthening once again. He placed both hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward, lowering his lean body closer to hers.

“I’m pretty good at taking care of myself Donna.” He said, and she smiled and shook her head, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

“Oi, I know that, I just—”

“You know what else I’m good at?” Sam continued, and she shrugged her shoulders, looking up at him expectantly.

“I’m good at spotting demons.” He said. “It’s some kind of sixth sense I have—probably because of that demon blood shit. Didn’t have it as a kid, but as I got older and more—stuff started happening to me, it got stronger. It’s like—I can smell them. Smell every fucking lie they’ve ever told.”

His hands gripped her tighter, and he pulled her to him roughly, the smile now gone.

“But you know that already, don’t you Lilith?”  He whispered, and her eyes widened for a moment, as if surprised. Then they began to glow, that solid white color that he once found so terrifying. But that was before—before her powers failed her when she attacked him. It had been a surprise to both of them, that she wasn’t able to kill him instantly, and then she’d run away—ran back to hell as far as he knew.

She’d been weak, he did know that, the face of the woman she’d taken had grown deathly pale. But now as he stared at the stolen face of his friend, he knew she was strong again, healthy even. It was a thought that was reinforced when his body was lifted into the air, and tossed against a nearby wall, the impact causing a sharp pain to explode in his back.

Lilith moved forward, curling Donna’s lips into a hard smile as she looked down at him.

“You remembered me!” She said, the tone of her voice higher now, more childlike. But still, it was Donna’s.

“That makes me so happy—I thought you might forget. And I look different. My butt feels big, I don’t like that.”

“Let her go.” Sam ground out, slowly climbing to his feet. “This is between you and me—she’s not a part—”

“Were you always this tall?” Lilith said as she watched him. She gave a small shrug, and flicked her hand, sending him flying once again.

“This is fun!” she said, clapping excitedly. “Let’s do it again.”

Martha 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Martha said.

The Master—still wearing Ruby’s small frame—hesitated at her words, the hand he’d lifted to her lowering slightly. He looked down at himself, and then into a nearby mirror, sliding hand though the long blond hair of the body he’d taken.

“Well—a bit tarty perhaps, but pathetic? That’s a little bitchy don’t you—”

“You died.” Martha spat out, taking several small steps away from him. He turned back to her, the glow in his eyes dissipating to a small shimmer as he crossed his arms underneath his chest.

“Are you about to lecture me, Martha Jones?’ he clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “You’ve become more like him than I realized—don’t tell me. You’re going to explain that I should be graceful in death; that my time here has ended. Or something else nauseatingly trite.”

“No.” Martha felt her face muscles tightening, anger rolling through her body. “No, I wasn’t, there was nothing—graceful about you when you were alive, I can’t expect you to be nothing but the petty wanker you always were.”

He smiled at her words then let out a small chuckle.

“You were the brilliant bitch, weren’t you? Wonder why The Doctor didn’t keep you longer.” His eyes trailed up and down her body. “Bit dumpy perhaps?”

“You’re pathetic.” Martha continued “Because you’ve done something that’s—impossible. At least it was in my world before…before all this began to happen. In my world people don’t rise from the dead—they’re just dead. Sure there are echoes and brain pathways but—dead was dead. Nothing else.”

The Master placed a hand on his hip, and she slid her eyes sideways before continuing.

“But you’ve come back.” she said. “You’ve clawed your way back up from—wherever you came from and you’re here. With me. A nobody.”

His head tilted to the side, eyes slightly confused.

“What are you—”

“You’re the bloody Master!” Martha cried. “You’ve invaded planets—hell, you ruled this one for a while. People fear your name over galaxies, on planets light years from this one. And this is where you come? To find me? Why?”

The Master was silent for a moment, looking back at the mirror at his side, before turning back to her.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Martha asked him, and he smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, and then paused as if reconsidering his words.

“You know—you think I would, but no.” He waved his hand and she flew down to the ground, her shoulder slamming into the hard cement. Martha bit her lip, refusing to cry out as she looked up at him.

“Martha, Martha.” The Master said, blond hair swinging forward as he leaned down towards her. “Don’t you realize that there’s no where else I’d rather be? You’re special to me love. Your face was the only thing I saw, all those years, burning. Screaming in pain. I screamed your name, you know. Loved the way it felt in my mouth.”

“You chose to die.” Martha said. “You could have regenerated, you’re a damn Time Lord, you can live forever. But you didn’t. You chose to die.”

The Master leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I changed my mind.” He said, which was followed by the loud rapport of a shotgun echoing in the small space. A spray of blood fell on her clothes and face, and a short scream escaped, as her body flinched against the floor. The Master looked down at the body he’d stolen, and the large blood stain forming on his shirt. Martha slid away from him then, her eyes moving sideways, catching sight of Dean lying on the floor, a smoking shotgun gripped in his hands.

“Change it back.” he shouted, and they watched The Master clutch the wound, taking a few stumbling steps before sliding down a nearby wall. Martha’s eyes never left his, now glowing again, though sight wasn’t as frightening as it was before.

“Get the book.” Dean said, groaning as he sat up on his knees. “I’ll check Bobby and—The Doctor, you gotta exorcise him.”

“But I don’t know—”

“You know Latin.” Dean said. “And he’s here for you—we summoned him from wrath. It should be you Martha, if we—”

“Is the room spinning for everyone—or is that just me?” The Doctor groaned. Martha looked over to him, a relieved smile on her lips. He lifted a hand to his head, and looked up at her, meeting her smile with one of his own. But it slowly began to fade as he stared at her, and he placed a hand behind him on the wall, quickly climbing to his feet. Martha looked at him with confusion, then turned to Dean, who seemed just as confused as she was.

“What is it?” she said, and The Doctor moved toward Dean, never taking his eyes off her. He lifted the small bag of salt Dean had carried with him into the basement, and poured it onto the floor, creating a barrier between her and them. Martha quickly rose to her feet, her heart pounding as the panic rose inside her.

“What’s going on!?  She cried, and looked frantically at Dean, whose face had become withdrawn, impassive.

Angry.

“It’s not her.” The Doctor said, and Dean gave a short nod as Bobby groaned behind them, finally showing signs of life. Martha covered her hand with her mouth, feeling a hysterical scream rising from her throat. Only her hand didn’t move, even though she told it to do so, moving into her pocket instead, reaching for the iron blade Dean had insisted she carry. Martha watched her hands raise the blade in the air, then run it up and down her arms, the shining metal cool to the touch.

And then she realized. She wasn’t alone.

I’m with you Martha Jones. Don’t you see?

Oh God.

I’ll always be with you love. Forever.

Sam 

Sam heard them screaming outside. Whether it was Ellen, Jack, or the demons he couldn’t be sure. But he couldn’t help them, not now. She wouldn’t even let him move off the fucking floor.  

There was an invisible weight pressing on his chest, like a big ass foot stepping on him, keeping him down. And whatever powers he may have had against demons weren’t working on her, she only giggled when he tried to use them. And he couldn’t blame her, he had no idea what the fuck he was doing, his efforts coming out as grunts and wheezing. But the power—what he felt with the Daleks refused to return, and all that was left was an increasing fear that this was it for him. That he would die on a slightly dirty kitchen floor with Ruby laughing at him, wearing his friend’s face. Donna—what the fuck would happen to Donna now? She had a family, friends. She shouldn’t have been here, wasn’t supposed to—

“You’re not as fun as you used to be.” Lilith pouted, twirling Donna’s hair around her fingers. Sam felt another wave of fear rush through him, and realized that it was coming from her, that she was filling him with terror little by little. Just as he had done before.

And then they died—the Daleks. They died from this.

“Stop.” Sam choked out, and Lilith shook her head, smiling again.

“Nope. Make me.” She said, and the pressure grew stronger, the fear making sweat pour down his face. Why the hell was she so strong, she wasn’t like this before. What was—how did…

The question drifted away as the weight was suddenly lifted, air finally pouring into his lungs. Sam choked and gasped, rolling to his side on the floor as Lilith began to slowly back away from him.

The fear began to subside, ebbing away slowly, until his heart began to beat at a normal pace. Lilith mumbled to herself, her eyes lifting away from Sam to stare at the kitchen door leading out into the yard.

It was like what happened before, her suddenly running away from him after her power failed. But then—it wasn’t—her fear felt different, and wasn’t directed at him at all.

“YOU CAN’T STOP ME!” she screamed, and he winced at the high pitched sound. She was almost hysterical, pulling at Donna’s hair frantically as she backed away out of the kitchen.

“You can’t stop me.” She said again, quieter this time, and then Donna screamed as a thick black cloud flew from her mouth. Sam watched Lilith leave Donna’s body, the demon cloud a dark haze floating in the air, before disappearing entirely. Donna fell to the ground, and he quickly moved toward her, crawling on his knees until he reached her unconscious form. She moaned as he checked her pulse, and he smiled in relief. She was alive. God, she was—thanks to…What?

He heard the sound of boots on the front steps, the footfalls slow and deliberate as they moved toward the house. They could have been Jack’s, or Ellen’s even, but something made him reached for the discarded shotgun, aiming the barrel as he shielded Donna from the intruder. Sam remembered the fear on Lilith’s face and felt a small trickle of fear return, realizing that he could be facing something that had just scared the shit out of a powerful hell demon.

And he gripped the gun even tighter.

Dean 

Dean wasn’t sure what he felt he watched Martha’s eyes slowly turn a solid white, the bright glow making her brown skin almost golden in color. He didn’t let himself feel anything—he couldn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to save her.

“I think I like this one better anyway.” The Master said, running the knife up and down her arms. “Has a nice little irony about it, yeah?”

 The Doctor had picked up on it first, that she wasn’t—her anymore. They hadn’t moved fast enough, should have salted the asshole before he could move. But he wasn’t thinking—he was focused on her, looking her over, making sure she was okay. She’d been fucking great, keeping the guy talking while he reached for the gun, didn’t even break a fucking sweat. Fantastic. Martha Jones was—fucking fantastic.

And now this dipshit had taken her away from him.

“You won’t win this.” The Doctor said, and the Master just smiled, the movement deepening the dimple in Martha’s cheek. He pressed the blade deeper into her skin, and Dean instantly moved forward, stopped by The Doctor’s warning hand.

“Perhaps not.” The Master said in Martha’s clipped accent. “But there are small victories I can take pleasure in—killing you for instance.”

Dean heard Bobby move toward them, stopping when he reached Dean’s side. Bobby had a shotgun clutched in his hands, and Dean resisted the urge to take it from him. To protect her, even though she was—she had…..

“You won’t kill me, we both know that.” The Doctor continued calmly. “And you won’t hurt her either, you have nothing to gain with this. Nothing to—”

“You never did understand me.” The Master spat, eyes locked on the Doctor. “You and your inane desire to help every pitiful life form that crosses your path. As if that could make up for all the death you’ve caused—the damage you’ve done. You’re just like me—only I’m man enough to bloody accept it.”

The Master moved forward, feet edging the salt line between them.

“I’m The Master! I’ve risen from the dead, something no other Time Lord has ever done. And you called me! You summoned me—you stupid man, you brought me back.”

“Yes, I did.” The Doctor said. “I knew you’d come here because you couldn’t resist—gloating about it. You see—I know you a lot better then you think.”

The boastful smile on The Master’s face faltered a bit, his feet shifting slightly. Dean saw Bobby begin to raise his gun, but gave the man a hard shake of his head.

“I didn’t believe all this you know.” The Doctor said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Sam—that’s Dean brother—have you two met?”

Dean glared at the Master, who looked at him briefly before turning away. The Doctor rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking back and forth between the two.

“Well, he’s a bit—abrupt, but I’m sure a very nice man once you get to know him. Martha likes him—so that’s something. It’s good enough for me anyway.”

Dean looked at him briefly, before turning back to Martha.

“Yes—Martha is…well, you know what she is, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” The Doctor continued. “She bested you even—this lowly human girl. One you didn’t even see coming.”

Anger lit The Master’s face, and he lifted Martha’s chin haughtily.

“Bloody fluke that was.” He said. “And trust me—she’s scared now, terrified actually. She can see you, you know. Hear what we’re saying. And now she’s—oh wait, I think she’s crying. Very sad.”

Dean eyes lowered the exorcism book at The Master’s feet, and the Master smiled as he followed his gaze.

“I’d love to see you try.” The Master said. “Wonder how far you could get before I rip you into pieces, want to wager?”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind.” The Doctor said. “In fact, I do believe your strength has faded a bit since your little—entrance, has it not? Of course it has, because if it hadn’t….”

“He’d have crossed the fucking salt by now.” Dean finished, and The Master looked down at his feet, the cockiness now completely vanished.

“I don’t—what’s happening…”

“You’re a Time Lord.” The Doctor said. “That’s not a human soul you’ve—forced inside my friend, but your biological imprint is merging with hers. Becoming more human…”

“Like a normal demon.” Dean said, a smile now forming on his face. “Like one whose ass I can kick?”

“Yes, something like that.” The Doctor answered. The Master began to breathe heavily, staring down at the body as if it were eating him alive.

“How did you—you couldn’t have known, you don’t even believe…” The Master’s voice was slightly hysterical now as he began to back away from him.

“Perhaps not. I’m not yet versed on the ins and outs of human demonology.” The Doctor continued. He lowered his head, eyes growing dark and hard as he stared at the Master. “But I do know that a human is static in time, one life. One lifeline. And placing your soul inside…”

“Makes me like them.” The Master gasped, and began to shake his head frantically. “No…not that. I’m The Master not---I’m better. I’m bloody fucking MORE!”

“Let her go.” The Doctor said quietly. “You can keep yourself—stay what you are—just let her go.”

Dean watched The Master’s eyes lift slowly, a slightly crazed glint inside them. The rest played out in slow motion, the lifting of the knife, it turning slowly in his hand, pointing into Martha’s chest. Someone was yelling, him maybe. Maybe not—but he felt himself move forward, reaching out desperately to stop him.

The Master smiled as the blade pierced Martha’s flesh, sinking deep inside before he fell to the ground. Dean felt The Doctor moving beside him, but he reached her first, groping frantically for her arms—for any part of her body. The Master smiled weakly at them as the knife dropped to the floor, and looked down at the blood that poured from her body.

“Look’s like I pierced the heart.” He said. “Fitting, that. The little bitch did break mine.”

Bobby dug into his pocket for a cell phone as the Doctor stared down at her, his eyes wide with shock.

“I didn’t think—I didn’t think he would…” The Doctor began, and Dean pulled her body into him, struggling to stand. Her head lolled backwards, her arm dangled at her side as his feet slid across the floor, which was now covered in her blood. He began to fall and his knee slammed into the floor to stop his downward momentum.

“Dean...” Bobby said, and Dean shook his head, attempting to right himself.

“Dean, the blade was iron.” Bobby said, the implication of his words clear. A choked sob rose from Dean’s throat as he stared at her face. She was so pretty, with her eyes close liked that. When she was sleeping. Why the hell hadn’t he told her?

“Bobby.” Dean said, and he felt Bobby’s hand on his shoulder as he brought Martha’s body to his own. He buried his face into her neck, breathing in her scent, desperate to take the smell of her with him.

To hold on to it forever.

Sam 

The screen door creaked open and he could hear the sound of guns firing. There was a brief moment of silence, then an even louder explosion, one that had Jack shouting in victory. 

Hell, maybe they were winning.

But he didn’t take his eyes from the door, only lifted his gun as the intruder stepped inside the kitchen.

It was dark, the lights all blown out by Lilith only moments before. So he couldn’t see the face right away, could only make out the outline of a body, one smaller then he expected.

“Who are you?” Sam asked, not believing for a second that the thing would answer. But as it moved even closer, his fingers began to loosen on the gun, his eyes narrowing as a strange feeling overwhelmed him.

Familiar. Why did this person feel—so familiar.

“Who are you?” he said again, softer this time. A hand reached out and touched the barrel of his gun, pushing it to the side until it was aimed at the ground.

A woman’s hand.

As she bent her knees, couching down to his level, he took in the fitted black jacket and slacks, the silver weapon fastened on the belt on her hip. Beside it was what looked like a communicator of some kind, and a—small tool, one he recognized instantly.

It was a sonic screwdriver. The same one they’d found at The Library.

“Time to get up Sam.” She said, and reached out a hand. He shook his head, confusion mixing with shock, mixing with—ever other fucking emotion he could think of.

“Martha?” he said, and she smiled, a small dimple forming in her smooth brown cheek.

“He’s right, you are a quick one.” The fingers curled a bit, beckoning him forward. “I think there’s been enough of this, don’t you?”

Sam took her hand gingerly, and she gripped it tightly, her smile growing larger.

“He was right about that too.” she said. “Right then, follow me. It’s time to save the world, yeah?”