The Order of the Angels

Chapter 1 A Promise Made is a Promise Kept.

    This story is an alternate ending/continuation of the Dr. Who episode, "The Angels Take Manhattan," with the eleventh doctor by Steven Moffat. Moffat, the genius writer, executive director of Doctor Who and Sherlock,  wrote the original story and inspired me to write this story. Accept for the characters I've created for this story, all characters in Dr. Who belong to the BBC. Some of the characters in this story were actual figures in history and this story in no way is meant to be an actual portrayal of them or their character. 

     The Doctor fell to his knees.  A wave of anguish washed over him. There was a heaviness in both his hearts as if a part of his soul was being ripped from him. The angel, having just sent Rory and Amy into the past, pointed an accusing finger at the Doctor. The gesture combined with the now frozen in stone sneer of the angel mocked him.  That gesture pronounced him a failure, declared him unable to protect those he loved.  The Doctor hated endings and this ending had been thrust onto him by this weeping angel, her finger now pointing at him, taunting him. She was a  statue now, frozen by the stare of the Doctor and River. The look of defiance and smugness shone unmistakably on her face as if to say, "I hurt you and I beat you, Doctor."  

     Without taking her eyes off the statue, River put her hand on the Doctor's shoulder reminding him she was there, grounding him back in reality. He lost two mates, but River had just lost her parents.  They were gone, taken from her in an instant.  The Doctor realized the woman he loved, his wife, must be feeling the pain as intensely as he did, even if she refused to show it.  This fed the anger that was growing inside him. River would never show him her pain. She loved him too much and knew he would carry the pain with him, for eternity. 

    The Doctor was looking down at the ground where Rory and Amy had stood just moments ago. Without looking up he spoke as calmly and as steady as he could despite the rage that was burning inside him. The Doctor learned long ago to never let his emotions control or cloud his judgment and to always be outwardly calm.

     "You think you've beaten me?" the Doctor asked as he rose to his feet. He brushed debris from his knees as he regained his composure. His eyes fixed to the angel's gaze, he walked towards the angel. He stopped when he was only inches from the angel's face. 

  He walked behind the statue out of its view and whispered in the angel's ear, "You think you've beaten me? The only thing you've accomplished is to motivate me, given me purpose." 

     The Doctor positioned himself so he and the angel were again face to face, eye to eye. "Know this. I will not rest until I have rendered you, and every weeping angel, powerless or imprisoned." The Doctor stared into the eyes of the still smirking angel for several minutes to allow the gravity of the situation to sink in. The doctor raised his hand to slowly stroke the cheek of the angel and said. "I want to remember your expression, your face.".  He paused and then whispered, "This very well could be the last time anyone ever lays eyes on a weeping angel."

     River, who had come behind the Doctor, took his arm gently, and lead him, walking backwards slowly to the TARDIS, his gaze still locked with the angel's eyes. River opened the TARDIS door and entered. The Doctor still staring at the angel  stated simply, "I'm coming for you, I'm coming for every last one of you." The Doctor followed River into the TARDIS and as the door was closing he could faintly make out a hauntingly shrill sound. The sound was, in fact, the sound of the angel screaming in terror.