Silent Night

Summary: The Doctor's come back for a visit. But trouble seems to follow him wherever he goes, and this time he's not the only one trouble wants to bother. SuperWho, slight 11/Castiel, may contain spoilers. T for language. Also a Christmas special for a special person. Enjoy.

Prologue

As busy as Manhattan had a tendency to be, especially so close to the holidays, the graveyard was always quiet. It wasn't uncommon for visitors to sometimes wish it wasn't as such. The silence, the sun going down as time went on, the grey clouds interrupting the colourless sky—all these things did no more than bring to life the inevitability of death. They brought back the pain of knowing that a loved one was gone forever, only to be seen in pictures and memories.

There had yet to be snow on the ground that day, a few weeks into December, but now and again the flakes would drift from the never-ending ceiling and fade away on whatever they happened to collide with. The air was frigid enough for one to be able to see his breath come out in a plume every time he exhaled. There was no wind.

The Doctor stood by himself in the cemetery, looking over those words again. The same ones he'd watched appear on the stone all that time ago. The same words that did no more than sit on the grave, yet had been powerful enough to rip his best friend from his grip forever.

Pond. No, Williams. Gone forever.

"Sir."

The voice came from behind him, loud enough to be audible, but still fell on deaf ears. The Doctor was lost in thought. Normally he was good at multitasking; thinking, no matter how deeply, while still being aware of himself. But not here. Not now. The setting, the sky, the tombstone that never left his mind often caused him to lose himself in it all. His fingers made contact with the cold stone and lingered there, wishing he'd never seen the dreadful thing at all.

"Sir," came the voice again. This time it broke through the image of his beloved Pond and he turned, still in a daze.

What he saw not only brought him back to reality, but it flooded his brain with so many terrible things that he stepped back against the gravestone, making as if to protect it. Without warning, the angel statue before him cracked and suddenly exploded, its fragments scattering like the snow around it. A man stood no more than a foot behind where the creature had been only moments before. His hand remained in the air, bent as if still holding the stone skull.

"Sir, you must be more careful."

The Doctor's shock faded and tightness filled his chest. He had been seconds from death without even noticing. The thought arose that this stranger had just killed the same angel that took his friends from him and he pushed it away. His mouth worked to form words and could only find one.

"Why?"

"The world still needs you," replied the stranger. Like the Time Lord, the man appeared to be human, but the Doctor knew better than to assume such a thing. His saviour's face gave way to no emotion, his blue eyes almost lifeless in the way they stared. He wore a trench coat and.. was his tie.. backwards?

"Who are you?" The Doctor inquired curiously.

"It is not your time yet," was the response, flat and mechanical.

There was no time to ask another question, though the Doctor burned with many. His hand darted to his jacket and retrieved the sonic screwdriver—but just like that, the man was gone. Disappeared in the fraction of a millisecond it took to reach into a pocket. All that remained of the encounter was the shrapnel scattered among his feet. Bits and pieces of what could have been the angel that murdered him.

But it wasn't his time yet.

So he stood, alone, confused, with the remains of his friends and the remains of his enemy. This was supposed to be just a visit. He was only here to lay some flowers at a grave.

"The world still needs me."

Snow continued to fall.