Runaway (ON HOLD)

1: Runaway

This is the sequel to Why the Winchesters, and I highly suggest reading it first. But, if you don't want to, it's fine by me.

The winner of the shout-out from the last chapter of Why the Winchesters is PsychoPiper because she's awesome and actually guessed. Even though I still love you butts who didn't comment. So there. :p

Oh, god, I'm an overgrown five-year-old.

Chapter song is The Grimm Goodbye by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. ( I'm doing a sort of song theme, like for Why the Winchesters I tried to use classic rock, this one I'll use more modern, pop songs or something. If I publish the third, I'll try to use a different genre of song, like punk.) Enjoy!!

-ComplexAud424

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My name is Andrea Pilosky, and this is the story of the time I met the Doctor and made the best friends I've ever had.

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I was jerked awake by what felt like an earthquake. The air around my bed looked like it was shimmering, like heat waves off of asphalt during summer. What the...? The shaking stopped almost as quickly as it started, though, and I jumped out of bed.

I stumbled down the stairs, tripping on the last step. I fell heavily to the ground as a crunching noise came from my right ankle. "Crap! Calum!" I yelled to my friend - boyfriend, I guess - hoping he would come and help me, but no one did.

I groaned and felt around for the grippy handle of the silver knife we kept by the door. Once I found it, I hauled myself up and walked haltingly to the door, swinging it open with a creak.

Finding nothing unusual right outside, I decided to look around in the street before going back to bed. I slipped on some tennis shoes sitting on the mat and limped outside, shutting the door gently behind me.

As I looked down the street, though, someone came up behind me and whispered, "A bit late for you to be out, huh, sweetheart?"

I spun around quickly, slashing out with my knife. I caught the stranger's shoulder with the tip and took off running down the street, clenching my teeth and ignoring the searing pain in my ankle every time it pounded to the pavement.

I heard the thug curse and shout to someone else. "Catch up to her, dumbass!"

Suddenly, there were at least five sets of feet thudding angrily behind me. I ran two blocks, keeping myself in front of the men by just enough, but I was getting tired and my ankle was getting ready to give out.

I ducked down an alley to my left, hoping to shake off the men. But they all rounded the corner behind me, going the same speed.

I screamed in my mind, Calum! Anyone! Help me!

But then my ankle twisted and I was tumbling to the ground as the wind picked up, swirling my curly, tangled hair around my face.

My hands skidded across the pavement, grinding pebbles and dirt into the heels of my palms, and I flipped to my back quickly, the knife a few feet away. I heaved a few breaths, preparing myself to fight the idiots.

But it seemed like the thugs weren't after me anymore, and for good reason. There was a pulsing blue light and a huge whirring sound echoing through the alley. The man that'd whispered in my ear was clutching his shoulder, and he looked terrified.

There was a tall, blue box appearing, like a magician's trick, right in between us. As it solidified, I could see a sign on the front that claimed the box was a police public call box.

The head gang member looked to me and screamed over the whirring, engine sound, "You're a witch! What've you done!?"

I stared at him, amazed, and pushed myself up as the whirring sound stopped, the wind died down, and the box solidified for good.

Before anyone could do anything, a man with messy, longish brown hair and a bow tie stuck his head out of the door that creaked on old hinges. He looked around at the thugs, and then to me, before remarking in a British accent, "Oh, I've gone and stumbled into something important, haven't I?"