claire winchester is not your typical superhero (goallbuffyonus) wrote in colligo_threads, @ 2012-12-25 23:38:00 |
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In retrospect, going out by herself probably wasn't the smartest move Claire had ever made. Sure, at the time, it had seemed like a perfectly sound plan. She watched Doctor Who. She knew what these creatures were capable of doing. She also knew how to avoid and, if necessary, fight, them. Armed with her handgun, and a black marker, she made sure to keep her wits about her and paid close attention to the shadows. And she reached her destination without any issue, too.
Of course, that was when things took a turn for the worse. In fact, on a scale of one to ten of follies, the series of events that transpired from the moment she stepped foot into her own shop was somewhere around a fifteen. Much like the script from a show or film, everything seemed to go wrong one after another without any particular rhyme or reason.
To be completely fair, it really was her own fault. Sure, she had made sure not to cross paths with any Daleks or Cybermen while out on the streets. She'd even kept watch from the corner of her eye for the Silents, as that's where they preferred to dwell. But for some reason she couldn't quite explain, she hadn't really worried much about the Weeping Angels. Why that was, really, was anyone's guess, but the point was that she hadn't exactly been focused on not blinking.
At least, not until she turned to exit the vault.
Initially, the site of the statue made her freeze in place. For a nanosecond or two, there was blessed unawareness as her mind hesitated to make the connection. Then realization dawned on her, her stomach promptly dropped to her toes, and her eyes widened a fraction of an inch or so in an effort to most definitely not close. Unable to look away from the creature, Claire blindly reached for her PDA nestled securely in the pocket of her coat.
Except it wasn't there. Her brow furrowed as she wildly began rooting through her jacket in the vain hope she might have just placed it somewhere else. Except she knew that wasn't the case because she could practically see it, in her mind's eye. It was in the passenger seat of her car, where she'd tossed it when hopping in to start her mad dash to the shop in the first place. She'd never grabbed it from its landing place, never put it in her pocket.
"Son of a-"
A crashing sound cut her muttering short and caused her to jump a bit in fear. Instinctively she turned toward the noise, only to realize her mistake a second later. Her gaze cut back to the doorway, a yelp dying on her lips as she stumbled backward to get away from the now suddenly much too close statue. Its face was hidden in the crook of one elbow, its free arm raised and extended toward her. Inches. She'd come mere inches from being grabbed.
Another crash and Claire did the only thing she could think to do. She sidestepped around the statue as best she could, never taking her eyes off of it. It took some tricky maneuvering, and everything she had not to turn toward the crashing sounds from further back in the vault, but finally she had gotten between the Angel and the door. Breathing a soft sigh, not quite of relief but definitely of hope that she might get out of this yet, she slowly backed toward the exit. Once she was through the doorway, she clutched the video she'd gone there to get as tightly to her chest as possible and turned to run.
Only to find herself face to face with yet another Weeping Angel.
She never got a chance to take a step away from that one. She never got the chance to do much of anything beyond suck in a sharp breath. Fleetingly, her mind started to remember the statue that was still in the vault. The vault that was now directly behind her, where she most definitely not watching. But, no sooner had the thought crossed her mind did she feel a hand clamp down on her shoulder... and then she was gone.
Aziraphale wasn't terribly concerned about the invasion. While it was certainly something to be wary of in the short-term, it wouldn't last and soon everything would be set right. Such was always the case. Besides, it was hardly as though he could interfere overly much in events. It was one thing to take action when he was directly involved in a situation, he was allowed to defend himself after all, but meddling was frowned upon.
And he hadn't been intending to meddle at all. He'd simply planned on going to check on Claire. They were close, and he didn't much like the idea of her being out on her own when so much was going wrong. He wasn't all that worried about her dying, since there wasn't much that could really hurt her, but he wasn't so foolish as to think she was completely safe. After all, he was very hard to kill as well, and it had still been managed in the city.
Still, it was hardly as if he was going to her shop in order to meddle. Because he didn't meddle. Apart from a few instances, and he really was doing his best to stop with that. Crowley tended to make a very particular face when he got overly involved in things. It probably had to do with that whole dying incident. Really, he was just going by to see if Claire needed anything, and then see her safely home. Like any friend would. Nobody could fault him for that.
He certainly didn't expect to show up just as she disappeared, a pair of angel statues in her shop. And really, it was just insulting that the things insisted on looking like angels.
"Bugger," he swore, summoning his flaming sword to his hand.
Once he had made quick work of the stone angels with his weapon, he sighed. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all. He didn't have the faintest idea what to tell people, or how to possibly fix this, and he resisted the urge to continue swearing as he considered the implications of Claire just being gone.
"Fuck." He didn't say he resisted very well.