CHAPTER 1

A light flickered on in a house in New Jersey, USA. The street sign had long been knocked down, so the people in the town referred to the street as "That-One-Street."

23 That-One-Street was the only active house, and even there, only one person was awake. The 15-year-old school superstar, Justin Wolfe, was stirring in the house he shared with his older sister. The tall lamp in the corner of his room cast gentle rays across his room, driving away most of the midnight dark. Justin himself was up and fully dressed, picking his way from his closet to his desk. His floor was littered with everything, his desk and bed covered with differently-sized screwdrivers, nails, and scraps of metal.

Justin Wolfe was a genius.

He spent days watching shows about inventing, spent weeks gathering gears and other parts together, spent months putting them together into something fantastic. His classmates watched with a certain fascination, almost like how they would watch a magic show that they believed in. Almost like they were hypnotized.

Justin Wolfe was also a sorcerer.

Everybody knew that he was part of an association of magicians. Justin could literally disappear, make words appear on a board without touching anything, and make things hover feet above the ground before falling to the ground, all with a few words and something that everybody supposed was a wand. This was possibly more widely accepted than his talent at inventing.

Justin picked up a metal object that looked slightly like a toaster, revealing a large book under it. He opened the book, flipping through pages until he got to a blank page. He picked a pen up and scrawled a group of words on the page. As he wrote, a mumbled stream of words flowed from his mouth. The last word he emphasized both verbally and in his writing.

The device beside him lit up, its blue light reflected in his startled emerald-green eyes. Amazement spread across his face as he put down the pen, resting his hand on the cluttered desk. The object sucked in all of the light in the room, the blinds shutting on their own and blocking out all outside light. Justin's head snapped to the window, and he tried taking a step back, succeeding only in stepping on a nail. The invention's light grew brighter and brighter. Slowly a shape formed out of the amorphous glow: a woman with short hair wearing casual clothes. A smoke coiled out of the woman's eyes as she stared blankly at a point over the boy's head. "Mother…" Justin breathed incredulously, reaching out.

Suddenly the woman's head snapped down and she slapped him. Although her hand went through her son's face, deep scratches were left behind. You betrayed me." Her voice like ice—no, her voice was ice. "You let me die."

Justin was close to crying, his hand cupped over his bleeding cheek. "Mom, I didn't!" he said. "I didn't."

"You let me die," the apparition insisted, floating a little closer to him. Her body was suspended elegantly in midair, her toes hanging barely above the ground. "You let me die."

"No!" Justin tried stepping back, tripping over a gear and landing backwards on the floor. He tried crawling back, but found himself stuck in a sea of metal.

She descended, bending over to gently touch his jaw. Her touch was like a whisper of cold wind, loving yet deadly. "You let me die." The line had become automatic.

At her touch, Justin turned pale. Spasms racked his muscular body as he tried rolling over to the desk. A light gathered at his heart as the specter rose up again, absorbing the light. The boy struggled to his desk, draping himself over the chair. He coughed, a few drops of blood gathered at the corners of his mouth. After a few more painful moments, he screamed and fell still. The woman hissed at the sound, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Someone else in the house had stirred.

Erica sat up, her auburn hair surprisingly neat. Then again, she had only been asleep for half an hour. Juggling college and taking care of her brother had made it hard for her to get an ample amount of sleep. Their aunt was supposed to be taking care of the orphans, but the lady had long since moved out. Erica's green eyes, a lighter shade than her brother's, were wide at the sound of Justin's scream. She acted quickly, grabbing her thickly-rimmed, purple glasses and putting them on. She picked up a flashlight and switched it on, opening the door to her room and walking out barefoot into the cold hallway.

The flashlight's beam drifted from side to side, casting eerie shadows along the wood floor. Erica swallowed nervously. The old house had always been sinister at night; the fact that Justin had just screamed enhanced that image. The light sound of her feet shifted to Justin's room's door. She nervously bit her lip, slowly turning the doorknob. She stayed still for a moment before quickly kicking the door open and balling her fists in case a murderer was going to jump out at her.

When nothing happened, she sighed and relaxed, walking inside. Everything was the way it always was; the lamp was on, the floor was messy, Justin was at his desk. He was slumped over the wooden table, his head resting on the book that she always supposed contained spells. Erica smiled gently before whispering, "Justin?" That small gust of words would normally be enough to wake him up. When he didn't move, she frowned, squinting slightly. He didn't seem to be moving at all—not even breathing. "Justin?" Her voice became frantic as she quickly leapt across his room, moving adroitly through the mess on the floor. Her jaw dropped, eyes widening in fear at the sight of Justin, not moving at all, dead by the looks of it.

She put the flashlight down on the desk, bending down and searching for his nonexistent pulse. A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye as she looked frantically around the room, expecting for the murderer to jump out now, instead of when she first walked in. The room stayed still and silent, although the object Justin had created was still glowing slightly. She frowned and gently moved his cold hand, looking at the words. She glanced around before hesitantly reading the words. Her clear, bell-like voice caused the flashlight's light to flicker out and reappear by the toaster, the lamp following the smaller light's example. She jumped when Justin's ghost appeared. "Justin!" she called, sadness and joy mixing in her voice. Something told her that something wasn't right, and she looked backwards before getting as far away as possible, picking up something to use for defense.

"You weren't fast enough." His voice was unemotional and dull, the same as his eyes. "I called, but you didn't come. You let me die." He started to float forward, his hand outstretched.

Erica thought quickly. "Wait!" The ghost froze. "What did you die from?"

"You let me die," it repeated before starting to advance again. The question, though, seemed to phase it slightly.

"If you don't know, then you must not be him!" she said triumphantly, throwing the wrench she held at it. It passed through the apparition, but hit the toaster instead. It hissed, sharp teeth bared, and lunged for her. Erica ducked and tried rolling to the toaster, although the thing appeared in front of the toaster, grinning wickedly.

"Time's up, little girl. Time to become my food," it whispered, zooming quickly at Erica. She threw a nail at the toaster, making the specter freeze. She stood up and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Her feet carried her quickly to her room, and she picked up a gun.

"Nobody can call someone who's been living on their own for ten years a little child," she swore. "Especially if that someone's me." With that she stepped back into the hallway.

Banging was coming from Justin's room as the ghost tried getting out. She aimed the gun and shot it, the bullet whizzing through the door. The banging stopped, replaced by the noise of something running around. She grinned, stroking the gun and barging into the room.

The ghost was huddled in a corner. When she walked in, it hissed and straightened up. She quickly shot at the invention, but the ghost got in the way, absorbing the bullet. Erica inhaled quickly. "Stop! Why are you here?" she yelled, making the ghost freeze.

"Why… am I… here?" it repeated dumbly, hands falling to its side.

Erica nodded shakily, keeping the gun aimed at it. "I… am hungry," it answered quietly. "I… need… forms for… family."

She frowned. "What?"

The ghost started to open its mouth to reply, but it never got a chance to. There was a noise, and its image flickered. All light was restored to the lamps and flashlights. Erica frowned, lowering the gun as a tall, lanky man climbed through the window. "I'm so sorry about that," he said with a grin, tossing what looked like a screwdriver up into the air before tucking it away into some inside pocket in his suit. He continued, his British accent obvious. "Had to cut off the signal. It was pretty simple, really. Just had to—"

"Wait, wait." Erica shook her head, dropping the gun. "Pardon me for being rude, but who the hell are you, what do you want, and how the hell did you get in?"

The man stopped, startled at the questions. "I just opened the window," he said innocently, his big brown eyes wide as he pointed at the opened window. "That thing was about to kill you, and I couldn't let that happen, could I?"

Erica pushed past the man, leaning out the window. "So you climbed up the wall," she asked incredulously, staring at the ground.

"No other way I could get up, is there?" He walked over, taking off the coat he was wearing and draping it over her shivering body. The ridiculously large coattails hung down by her feet as she straightened up, smiling gratefully at the warmth. "And as for who I am, I'm the Doctor. A pleasure to meet you…?"

"Erica." She glanced sadly at her brother, hoping that this mysterious Doctor wouldn't notice. "Doctor… what?"

His brown eyes followed her gaze. "… I'm sorry about him," he said quietly, ignoring the question. "Didn't get here soon enough. Couldn't save him." He looked back at her, a sad expression on his face, too. "What was his name?"

"Justin." She sniffled. "His name was Justin." Green eyes turned sadly up to him, tears pooling up in them. "He isn't dead. He can't be dead."

The Doctor frowned, simply saying, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," and giving her a gentle hug.

A tear trickled out of her eye, somehow getting caught on the rim of her glasses as she bit her lip, resting her head against the Doctor's shoulder. After a moment, he leaped back. "Well! We have to figure out what killed him, eh?" He grinned, pulling out a pair of glasses and tapping them against the desk. "And I think that whatever killed him is what tried to kill you."

"But… that was Justin," she said, leaning over the book along with him.

"Well, that's what it appeared to be, but I think that's only a disguise." He put the black-rimmed glasses on, flipping through the book. As he glanced over the pages, his eyes widened slightly, his brows furrowing.

"Justin was a sorcerer," she explained. "A magician."

"He wasn't either of those," the Doctor said. "He was… just brilliant." He shook his head. "Some of this stuff shouldn't be discovered until the 24th century."

Erica blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Aah, ignore me," he said. "But this… this is absolutely brilliant!"

"You said that."

"I know." He grinned at the other before closing the book, turning his attention to the machine. "Ah, now this!" He picked it up, turning it around in his large hands. "An extracator."

"A what?" Erica moved her gaze from the machine to his face, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"An extracator," he repeated. "It pulls things out of hiding and forces them to show themselves." He pulled the screwdriver out of his pocket. "If I could find out what was being pulled out of hiding, that could help greatly."

Erica watched curiously. "Wait. That means…"

"Bloody-!" The Doctor frowned angrily, looking at the screwdriver. "All that I get is that there's something in the sky." He looked at her. "A big, fat spaceship in the sky."

A/N: So, I hope that this'll turn out alright. It's the first time I've actually tried developing the plot for a fanfiction before just writing it, and I think that I might be able to finish this. The problem is that I'm almost finished watching all of the David Tennant shows, so then the Doctor might start acting like the eleventh. Maybe I'll just watch clips on YouTube before writing the next chapter.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it! I've been roleplaying as the 10th Doctor, so I hope that I got his personality okay. Reviews are greatly appreciated~!

I don't own Doctor Who.

-Peaceful Chaos