Ten people have gone missing over the last month, among them three Marines and their spouses. Normally, his whole team would be working on this; but Vance felt as if that this was worthy of having only one person on it. So, Gibbs assigned himself to this while the rest of his team was working on a double homicide involving a Navy officer.
The small, decrepit house up on Mathing Street looked like any other house. Except for the abandoned part. This house has been abandoned for over fifty years and is believed to be haunted. They say that something has been taking people for all those years. They drive up to the house to investigate and then…disappear. The disappearances have escalated in the last month, including the missing Marines. So that why he is up here.
Except now he is starting to get nervous. He keeps seeing statues of angels weeping that mysteriously move from place to place, always with their eyes covered. And movement everywhere — he can hear something but every time he went to look, there was always a statue there. Damn, I wish John was here, he thought as he looked about with his gun drawn. He remembered his old friend back from his days in the service who was now a hunter. At first, Gibbs never believed in the supernatural, but after helping John with a vampire…well, it opened his eyes to the possibilities. But John was dead now and his sons were continuing the work. A good thing in his mind.
Now he was in a haunted house with no idea what to do. And he was never one to get spooked about anything. But when all the doors were locked, he had very limited options at the moment. The house itself was dark and damp. The furniture was covered with white sheets and water damaged evident on the walls. What shocked him more, though, was seeing an angel statue in the room. How did this get here? he thought as he stared at it. Then he blinked and realized that it was now closer to him. Staggering backward, keeping his eyes on the statue, he tried to figure out what to do next when his hand found the door handle. Twisting it, he opened it — never taking his eyes off the statue — and slowly moved out of the room. He then slammed the door and, in a moment of unconscious thought, he ran. This place has officially spooked him.
“You ran?” asked a disbelieving Vance as he and Gibbs were meeting in his office the next morning.
“Didn’t I just say that?” Gibbs replied sarcastically. “There is something in that house. Something that is causing these people to disappear.”
“Still working on that,” he replied as he walked out of the office. Walking down to the empty bullpen, he grabbed his coat and went for his car. He knew something was inside causing the disappearances and that those statues were a part of it. I don’t know how they are involved, but they are connected, he thought as he drove off. He needed more information about the house, about what happened to the original occupants. Normally, he would have McGee do it, but with the team working on the double homicide, Gibbs was left to get these things on his own. So, he was on his way to the closest historical society.
An hour later, he was sitting at a desk, shuffling through documents and beginning to get frustrated. He found that the house was originally owned by the Cartwright family, who disappeared in 1948. Left everything behind — their clothes, their car; even the food was still cooking on the stove. The police back then could not find anything, but stated that there were now statues of weeping angels that were not there before. So those things were even there then, he thought as he stared at the page. But it was still telling him nothing.
He shuffled through more papers until he found a file of old police reports on disappearances that were related to the house. Mostly teenagers who went up there on a dare, only to never be seen again. After the last disappearance in 1979, the police declared it off-limits. Everything was quiet until reconstruction began earlier this year, when a few workers and prospective buyers have gone missing, including the Marines.
But what caught his attention more was picture clippings of a blue phone box on the property in 1968 and again in 1972. The reporter said that the phone box was there one day and then gone another. Looking at the pictures, he noticed that the angel statues were near or almost touching the box in each photo. Two angels were looking straight at the photographer, staring out with dead eyes. What are these things? he thought.
As he sat at the desk, rubbing a hand on his head against the coming headache, he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up to see a young man dressed in a slightly formal suit and tie and holding a packet. “Jethro Gibbs?” he asked.
Looking at him suspiciously, Gibbs replied, “Yes?”
The man handed him the packet and said, “This was left in the care of Phillips & Rowe earlier this week to be taken to this place at this time to be given to a Jethro Gibbs who would be sitting at the desk nearest the emergency exit.”
Gibbs looked around, realizing that he was sitting near the emergency exit. “And who left it with you?” he asked.
“No idea. The man said you’ll realize it when the times comes,” he said as he put the packet on the table and left.
Looking at the packet, Gibbs slowly picked it up and opened it. What he found was a cell phone, just a cell phone. As he looked at it, it began to ring. Staring at it in confusion, he walked out of room and into the lobby, where the reception appeared to be better. He answered it and said, “Gibbs.”
“Hello, Jethro,” came a light British accent.
Gibbs paused for a moment. “How do you know that name?” he asked.
“You told me.”
“We never met.”
“Not yet,” said the man; and the agent could hear the smile in his voice.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Just the Doctor.”
Figuring that that was all he was going to get, Gibbs instead inquired, “What do you want?”
The man sighed. “I assume you have encountered the Angels by now?” he asked.
“You mean the statues.”
“Only when they are observed. Lonely Assassins in the wider universe, they are the only ones to kill you nicely.”
“By sending you to the past. Letting you live out your life in the past so they can consume what you could have had in the future,” explained the Doctor. “But we have failed to find the important question.”
“Like why you did not give this to me in person?” asked Gibbs with a sarcastic tone.
“No!” he said, exasperation evident in his voice. “Like why you haven’t asked me how I am talking to you. Even Sally asked me that!”
Not bothering to ask who Sally was, he answered, “I rather not know.”
“Fine,” he said, clearly upset about something. “You need to go back to the house.”
“Why?” asked Gibbs.
“You want to find out a way to stop the Angels? Well, go back to the house.”
“And get zapped to the past?”
“Oh, give yourself more credit than that. You haven’t survived this long without taking chances.”
Wondering how this man knew him that well, Gibbs said, “And what do I do when I get there?”
“Just wait. And stay out of the Angels’ way,” replied the Doctor, his voice getting lower. “Don’t blink! You blink, you’re dead. Just don’t blink! Good luck.” And with that, the phone went dead, signifying that this was the end of the conversation. Gibbs just stared at it for a moment before putting the cell into his pocket. He didn’t want to go back; but if there is a way to prevent more people from disappearing…he’ll take the chance.
Walking out of the building to his car, though, he failed to notice a statue standing near the entrance, hands covering its eyes…
While driving back to Mathing Street, Gibbs pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Hello?” came a young voice.
“Sam? It’s Gibbs,” he replied. Sam Winchester was John’s youngest son and the more level-headed boy. He was also the one that called Gibbs when his father died.
“Gibbs? Been a while. What’s up?”
“I need information.”
“Have you ever heard of something called the Weeping Angels?” asked Gibbs.
“You mean the statues? Just urban legends.”
“What can you tell me?”
He heard Sam shrug. “They’re creatures that seem to belong to another planet. They’re not from Earth. But they are deadly, for their touch can send you into the past, where you have to come up with a way of surviving,” he answered.
“Can they be killed?”
“Not easily. They turn to stone the moment they are seen. They can’t even look at each other, according to a rumor. You can’t kill a stone. But just don’t blink.”
“So I’ve heard,” Gibbs murmured. “Have you ever heard of the Doctor?”
“The time traveler? Sure, met him a couple of times even,” replied Sam.
“Time traveler?” repeated the agent. Explains the phone then, he thought.
“He’s not human. From another planet himself. He travels time and space, usually with other people.” There was a pause before he asked, “Why did you want to know?”
“Met him myself,” he replied. He was telling the truth for the most part. Seeing that he was nearing the house, he said, “I’ll get in touch with you later.”
“Good luck,” was the response before Gibbs hung up. Gathering his courage, he got out of the car and started for the house, observing as he went the statues nearby. So it begins, he thought.
He entered the house cautiously, taking in his surroundings. His military skills are going to be put to the test on this one, though he didn’t know how he was going to accomplish this feat. They can’t look at each other, he thought as he looked around. Spotting a mirror, he wondered if they are equally as vulnerable when looking at themselves.
Hearing a crash behind him, he immediately ran to the wall mirror and pulled it off. He turned around, putting the mirror in front of his face, and waited. Seeing a statue directly in front of him, he slowly lowered the mirror, looking at the Angel’s face. It was stone.
So he took a chance and blinked. It didn’t move. It was stone — permanently. Congratulating himself, he heard more crashes coming from upstairs. Holding the mirror close to him, Gibbs ran out of the room. He ran until he reached the parlor, where he noticed three more statues. Holding the mirror face up behind his back — in the off chance that there would be Angels behind him, he stared at the things. Now what? he thought as his resolve of not blinking was starting to wane.
Seeing another door nearby, Gibbs slowly began to side-stepped towards it, keeping his eyes on the Angels in front of him and the mirror behind him. He freed one hand and turned the knob, his eyes about to blink on him. He quickly got out of the room and slammed the door, using a metal bar to jam against the door. Whatever those things were, they began to pound on the other side of door, trying to break it down. So Gibbs did what he normally never did — he ran. He ran until he reached the front lawn.
But he only got halfway down the lawn when he spotted an Angel. And then another. And another. He stared, keeping his handy mirror behind him. Four Angels in total — he knew about the three in the house, who obviously found another way out; but where the fourth one came from was a mystery, but he figured the thing was keeping guard outside. There were five then — the one I froze in the house and these four, he thought as he continued to stare. His resolve began to wane again as he fought the urge to blink.
But he just could not do it. He blinked and opened them again. The Angels in front of him were closer now; with them pointing in different directions in what seemed like to Gibbs to be their attempt at making him look away. Not falling for it, he thought.
Suddenly, a loud, groaning noise was heard; and Gibbs watched in amazement as something started to appear around him. But that was also the moment that the Angels in front of him started to move; but they failed to get him. “Oi, spaceman! You picked up someone!” came a feminine voice. In front of him was a man and a woman. The man was tall, with unruly brown hair, brown eyes, and wearing a brown pinstriped suit. The woman was tall herself, with long red hair and wearing a suit outfit.
“I can see that, Donna,” retorted the Doctor. Gibbs started — it was the same, crisp British voice that he talked to over the phone. As Gibbs stared at him in disbelief, the man said, “Hello, I’m…”
“The Doctor,” Gibbs finished for him.
The alien looked at him for a moment before smiling. “Ah, we’ve met before,” he stated.
“In a manner,” replied the agent as he looked around. He remembered that the man was a time traveler; it would figure that they would meet in reverse. But it was where he was at the moment that astounded him. The room was huge, at the center of which was a console that had a green column protruding out the middle. Laying his eyes on the woman, he added, “But I don’t know about you.”
Looking insulted, the woman replied, “Donna Noble.” She held out her hand to him.
Taking it, he replied, “Jethro Gibbs.”
“Well, Jethro Gibbs,” said the Doctor. “How did you end up here?”
“I was investigating a haunted house. Ten people went missing in it, along with them three Marines.”
“Weeping Angels.” Gibbs watch as the man’s face turned white as he said this.
“Not again,” the man muttered as he ran to what looked like a monitor. “You’re right! Four of them right outside. On each side of the TARDIS.”
“Weeping Angels?” asked Donna.
“I’ll explain it to you later,” answered the Doctor. Looking back at Jethro, he noticed the mirror in his hands. “What’s with the mirror?” he asked.
“My only defense against those things,” replied Gibbs.
“You made one look at itself?”
“Only thing I could think of.”
The Doctor smiled. “Brilliant,” he complimented. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Before anyone could retort, the room started to shake. “What’s going on?!” yelled Donna as she tried to grab onto the railing, only to be caught by Gibbs.
“They’re trying to get in,” answered the Doctor as he began to flick a few switches. The groaning sound returned as the shaking slowly came to a stop.
Looking around, Gibbs asked, “What did you do?”
“Dematerialized in front of them. Hopefully the same that happened last time happened this time,” came the response as the man manically ran around the console, flipping more switches as the groaning got louder before it stopped. Running to the door, the doctor opened it and went outside, the two humans following. Across the room were four Angels, all looking at each other. “It did!” he yelled happily.
“You made them look at each other,” commented the agent.
“Yep! They won’t move again,” he replied. “Now give me that mirror.” Gibbs handed him the mirror and watched as the man broke it. Seeing the older man’s reaction, the alien replied, “Just in case.” Gibbs just nodded.
“What?” asked Donna as the Doctor grabbed her hand.
“Not now, Donna,” he told her as he turned to face Gibbs. “Well, Jethro. I’ll be seeing you around.”
Gibbs nodded before he remembered the phone. “Take this. You’re going to need it,” he told him as he gave the other man the cell. “A week ago, remember to get this to Phillips & Rowe. I’ll be sitting at the desk near the emergency exit of the historical society on Elm Street.” The Doctor was a bit confused. “You’ll understand later,” Gibbs said with his own mischievous smirk. The Doctor nodded and went back into his ship, Donna close behind. As he watched the ship fade away, he realized that it was a box, a wooden box.
He returned to the bullpen an hour later. His team was already there, working on things. “How was the case, Boss?” asked DiNozzo. But Gibbs did not answer — just went to his desk and sat down.
“Everything okay?” asked McGee.
“Everything’s fine,” replied Gibbs as he looked at his computer. Spotting something next to his keyboard, he picked it up. It was a small mirror with a note on it. “Good luck,” was all it said. Smirking, Gibbs smiled as he went to work on this report, somehow knowing that he was going to meet the man again.