The Boy with the Red Coat [Doctor Who Fanfiction]

Chapter 10 | Beating Werewolf with Books

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Doctor Who, I only own a partial of it which is my own original character who I neglect these day. Sam Piper.

A/N: I AM A BAD MOTHER AND WRITER. I HAVE BEEN NEGLECTING THIS CHILD AND DON'T EVEN GIVE EXPLANATION TO IT. I am seriously sorry, I've been in a dump lately and the need for me to solved this thing in my head made me hates writing. Everything that happened, my uni and thesis life made me want to throw up every single time I opened words. So I need a bit time off from writing anything.

But I am back now! And for the better too! So ONTO THE STORY

0o0

"Sam!" the Doctor grabbed him, pushing into the room, his eyes also drawn to the carnage down the hall. He quickly pulled the doors shut, with Sir Reynolds and barricade the doors, grabbing all the tables and bench for stopping the werewolf to burst into the door while on the other side, the wolf howled but made no attempt to force its way through the doors.

"Wait a minute. Shush, shush, wait a minute" the Doctor shushed them, listening intently as the wolf howled, finished with its latest victim and then fell silent. "It's stopped." He murmured before he leant against the door, listening intently. "It's gone."

"Listen," Sir Robert whispered in fear, as the pattering sound could be hears, sign that the wolf continued to prowl outside, circling the room.

"Is this the only door?" the Doctor asked.

Sir Robert nodded, "Yes." He paused for a moment before realizing. "No!" He quickly ran to the other side with the Doctor following quickly and together they quickly pushed furniture against the door, locking it in place.

"Shush!" the Doctor urged as the noises of the searching werewolf travelled about the outside of the room. He took a deep breath and heard the werewolf walking away, feeling relieved then turned around to the boy. "What were you thinking?" He snapped, clearly frustrated and scared as he strides towards him.

"I–"

"We ran from danger, not facing still towards it!" the Doctor fumed, he stared at the boy as he grabbed his shoulder a bit too firmly. He looked at the boy who only stared at him blankly, making him completely worried. "Sam, you alright?"

Sam has become aware of the tight clinching pain in his chest. It squeezed at his lungs and made the battered breaths enter his mouth with much more force and with much more strength needed. His breaths were becoming erratic, and he clutched his hand to his chest, breathing heavily and shallow, trying to suck in all the oxygen but only making the pain worse. He was used to this terrible pain in his chest, like his windpipe was closed in and his lungs were about to exploded, but he wasn't used of this intense fear washing over him, making him frozen and can't grabbed to his inhaler. His chest got tighter and tighter, and the feeling that he was breathing through a very tight straw intensified.

A hand cupped his face and he saw the Doctor pulling him along through a table in the middle of the room. His face heavy with fear, concern, and slight anger, he pulled him along to the table and grabbed him to sat up which making it impossible for him to even contemplate giving in to the stinging hurt in his chest.

"Sam?" He bent quickly down beside him, touching his back, rubbing it up and down, staring at the boy fearful face as he breathed heavy. "Sam, listen, slow down. Deep breathes. I know it's hard but you need to slow down the breathing," he told him calmly. "Come on, big, deep breathes. In through the nose."

Sam looked at him, and his breathing stopped suddenly. He nodded and took a long inhale of air and then let it slowly back out again. The Doctor nodded encouragingly as he did it again, "Keep doing that," he whispered, squeezed his hand tightly before reluctantly getting up and started patting his pocket and grabbed a blue inhaler.