Fic: An Angel's Tears
Title: An Angel’s Tears 1/?
Authors: glory-jean
Rating: PG-13
Characters, pairings Ten, Donna, Rose, Mickey, OC’s, Ten/Rose
Spoilers: DW through S5 and Torchwood S2 because I may decide to borrow from anywhere.
Summary A door once opened may be stepped through in either direction.
Notes: Written for never_ever_will Bump in the Night Ficathon
Prompt: To be given at the end of the fic, because it’s a spoiler.
Prologue
The house stood, silent and imposing as it always had. It loomed over the garden like a monument to the past. Her past perhaps, as it dominated her earliest memories. A chill ran up her spine, the shiver that came with it made her shudder unwittingly. She refused to let her mind form the obvious thought about graves.
Pushing away the silly misgivings about a place as familiar as any family member, she made her way to decaying porch. It would take some work to make up for the years of neglect. She climbed the steps and made her way to the front door. With uncertain hands, she drew out the old key, placing it in a lock that was more curious antique than security measure.
Slowly, she opened the creaking door. She hadn't been inside the house in years, yet the familiar feel washed over as it always had. The house had lain empty since her gran had died but it still felt full. Gran had believed the house was a way station for spirits. A place to pause on their journey to the other side. Once again, she caught herself shivering a little in spite of herself at the thought. Certainly, she'd never be afraid of the house...exactly.
She straightened herself and marched bravely into the entryway. The house looked in pretty good shape other than a thick layer of dust. Although, she felt a pang of regret seeing it emptied of Gran’s furniture the walls bare of photos and paintings; all the things that had made it a home. So far she saw no signs that the house had been broken into as some of the neighbors had insisted. The women across the street in particular had been certain that local teens where up to no good in the empty house.
A few more steps across the old floorboards carried her to the base of the staircase. There she saw the house had indeed had visitors at some point. Against a field of red, in an elaborate script, the words "Bad Wolf" had been painted on the wall of the stairwell landing. It stood out starkly against the delicate flowered wall paper. It looked like ordinary spray paint but she could almost feel a ripple of unnatural energy crackling from the words.
But somewhat more disturbing was the fact that the only footprints that disturbed years of dust on the floorboards were her own.
Authors: glory-jean
Rating: PG-13
Characters, pairings Ten, Donna, Rose, Mickey, OC’s, Ten/Rose
Spoilers: DW through S5 and Torchwood S2 because I may decide to borrow from anywhere.
Summary A door once opened may be stepped through in either direction.
Notes: Written for never_ever_will Bump in the Night Ficathon
Prompt: To be given at the end of the fic, because it’s a spoiler.
Prologue
The house stood, silent and imposing as it always had. It loomed over the garden like a monument to the past. Her past perhaps, as it dominated her earliest memories. A chill ran up her spine, the shiver that came with it made her shudder unwittingly. She refused to let her mind form the obvious thought about graves.
Pushing away the silly misgivings about a place as familiar as any family member, she made her way to decaying porch. It would take some work to make up for the years of neglect. She climbed the steps and made her way to the front door. With uncertain hands, she drew out the old key, placing it in a lock that was more curious antique than security measure.
Slowly, she opened the creaking door. She hadn't been inside the house in years, yet the familiar feel washed over as it always had. The house had lain empty since her gran had died but it still felt full. Gran had believed the house was a way station for spirits. A place to pause on their journey to the other side. Once again, she caught herself shivering a little in spite of herself at the thought. Certainly, she'd never be afraid of the house...exactly.
She straightened herself and marched bravely into the entryway. The house looked in pretty good shape other than a thick layer of dust. Although, she felt a pang of regret seeing it emptied of Gran’s furniture the walls bare of photos and paintings; all the things that had made it a home. So far she saw no signs that the house had been broken into as some of the neighbors had insisted. The women across the street in particular had been certain that local teens where up to no good in the empty house.
A few more steps across the old floorboards carried her to the base of the staircase. There she saw the house had indeed had visitors at some point. Against a field of red, in an elaborate script, the words "Bad Wolf" had been painted on the wall of the stairwell landing. It stood out starkly against the delicate flowered wall paper. It looked like ordinary spray paint but she could almost feel a ripple of unnatural energy crackling from the words.
But somewhat more disturbing was the fact that the only footprints that disturbed years of dust on the floorboards were her own.