Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Doctor Who.

Angels in the Shadows

Chapter 1 - Terror in the Night

.

Beacon Hills, California

September 2012

Thomas Phelps, a retired schoolteacher, walked out of the grocery store, glancing around the dark parking lot. It was late at night, and the moon hung in the sky overhead, gleaming silver. Phelps checked his cell phone as he walked, whistling tunelessly to himself.

As Phelps walked, an odd sensation overtook him; the feeling that he was being watched. He turned around, scanning the parking lot, but he was alone. No one else was anywhere near him; his car was the only one in the lot.

A sound - a quiet clank, as if something had just bounced off a metal surface - caused Phelps to turn his head, looking towards the loading docks at the back of the store. "Hello?" he called. "Is someone there?"

There was no reply.

Suddenly, one of the electric lights in the parking lot went out with a dull clunk and a fading buzz of electricity. Phelps turned, glancing back curiously, but again, nothing was there. Phelps shrugged, and turned to head to his car, stopping sharply as he heard another clank from the loading docks.

This is not a good idea, he warned himself, as he turned and walked around the corner of the store to the loading docks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and using its screen as a flashlight to illuminate his surroundings. To his surprise, no one was there; the space was completely empty.

"Hello?" he called out again. There was no reply.

Shaking his head, Phelps turned to head back to his car, and then froze in his tracks. Standing about ten feet from him, as if it had appeared out of nowhere, was a statue, about six feet tall. It was the image of a human, but with large feathered wings sprouting from its back. An angel. Its hands were raised to cover its face, and it was bent over slightly.

Phelps looked around in astonishment, but there was no one else around. There was just him, his car about twenty yards away, and the angel statue in front of him. But he was absolutely positive that the statue hadn't been there a few seconds earlier. Which meant that somehow, someone had put it there while he was facing the other direction.

But that was impossible; something like this had to be far too heavy for anyone to lift and carry to this spot in that short of an amount of time. And, in any case, he would definitely have heard them. Which meant that there was no logical way for that statue to be here.

Phelps walked up to the statue and tapped it gingerly on the arm with one hand. Nothing happened. The arm was, indisputably, made out of stone. Which meant that if this was some kind of joke, it was an extremely elaborate one.

Hearing another noise behind him, Phelps turned. "Who's there?" he snapped. Only silence replied. "I'm getting really sick of this!" he yelled. "Whoever you are, this isn't funny!" He turned back towards the statue, and gasped, staggering backwards in shock.

The statue was gone. There was no trace whatsoever that it had ever been there.

Phelps turned again, and jumped back, letting out a scream of shock. The statue had somehow moved, and was now on the other side of him. This time, its hands were lowered, and the fingernails had become talons. Its mouth was open, and its teeth - which were jagged and razor-sharp - were bared, as if it was snarling at him, its face twisted in fury.

Phelps blinked, and the statue - the thing - was gone again. He caught sight of a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and whipped around, but nothing was there. Becoming increasingly frantic, he turned again and again, trying desperately to see whatever was stalking him, but he still couldn't see anything. "What are you?!" he screamed, gasping for air. "What do you want from me?!"

The blow was stunning, launching him through the air as if he'd been shot with a cannon. His entire left side exploded with pain, and he was fairly sure at least one rib was broken. Regardless, as soon as he hit the ground, he struggled to his feet, coughing in pain, and ran for his car. "Leave me alone!" he screamed again, running as fast as he could, limping; he'd injured his left knee when he'd hit the ground. As he ran, all of the lights in the parking lot began blowing out in bursts of sparks, plunging his surroundings into darkness except for one light, directly over his car.

He reached his car and bent to the lock, fumbling desperately with his keys, when a soft sound behind him made his head snap up, gazing helplessly into the window with an expression of absolute horror. Standing directly behind him, illuminated by the glow of the last streetlight, was the statue, its hand extended towards the back of his neck, just a foot away from him. Its face was contorted in a demonic snarl, its fangs bared, its wings spread behind it, as if it was a monster risen from the depths of Hell.

Phelps opened his mouth to scream...

...as the last remaining light flickered, with a burst of sparks, and went out.

He felt a momentary touch of cold stone on the back of his neck, just a finger touching him, gently.

And then Thomas Phelps was gone.

AN: Hello, everyone, and welcome to my newest story, Angels in the Shadows! This story, as you've probably assumed by now, centers around the Weeping Angels coming to Beacon Hills, putting everyone in the town in danger. The Teen Wolf gang must team up with the Doctor and Clara to stop the Angels from claiming more victims and destroying history, and, in the process, must save two of their own from certain death. Who are the two in danger? Rest assured, all will be revealed in time. :)

I greatly appreciate reviews, so if anyone has any comments or questions regarding this story, please review! (No hate, please).

See you all next time!