The Doctor stood in front of his box, leaning lightly on the blue door. Eddies of brown dust swirled around his feet, and the wind tugged at his jacket. He was almost completely still- a rarity. Only his eyes moved as he took in this new place, a crossroads in a quiet corner of some unknown state, where the only sound at this time of night was the wind in the pines and the soft clicking of the far-off cicadas, sitting in the trees across the fields. The moon was hiding behind slight wisps of cloud, not enough to shed complete darkness, but almost.

The Doctor sighed. A heart wrenching sadness was in his eyes, though they were dry- for now. He knew that he couldn't keep it together forever. He was alone again, and so old. So tired.

He patted the box tenderly, and walked shakily into the middle of the crossroads. Bending down slowly, he dug a hole in the dirt with his hands, and placed a package wrapped in brown sacking and tied with string. It looked like a gift, but the Doctor knew that if this went the way he wanted, he'd be one receiving the favour.

He stayed on his knees for a few seconds, his eyes shut tight. His heart had begun to beat so hard that he could hear it. He placed his hands on his chest, as if that would help. When he felt able, he reached forward and pushed the dug up dirt over the hole, now filled with the offering, and smoothed it over. He stood and stared in the middle distance for a moment before turning around.

He saw nothing but his box.

What?

Was this right? He'd been told it was instant, but this seemed wrong. He didn't want to think about what he would do if it was.

And then suddenly, a cough came from behind him, where he'd just been looking.

He spun around and saw a man, shorter than him and dressed in a plain but expensive looking charcoal suit, standing there casually with his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Oh," said the Doctor. "I expected you to be..." he floundered for a moment, waving a hand vaguely in front of him.

"Taller?" the man finished for him, bemused.

"Yeah," he replied, standing still again and looking at the man with a mixture of wonder and nervousness in his expression. How had this man managed to arrive so suddenly, without a sound or a warning? It made the Doctor uneasy. Nothing new, though. When things made him uneasy he knew exactly what to do with them.

"Stop that," the man scolded.

He put the screwdriver away.

"You're a demon," he said. "You're a demon, and you just came from... from..."

"It's better if you don't think about it," he said. "You can call me Crowley. Names might make this easier, I think."

"Crowley... the demon."

The man shrugged and huffed slightly, though he clearly wasn't exactly itching to get going. His eyes had been studying the Doctor- his odd clothes, his floppy hair, his young yet old face, the strange pen that made the loud alien noise- since he'd arrived. Or appeared. From nowhere.

He seemed about to start flailing again so the demon- Crowley- stopped him by saying, "you're not human either, are you? You're something else."

"Oh, I'm something else."

Crowley raised his eyebrows.

"I'm a Time Lord."

Nothing.

"From Gallifrey?"

"What now?"

"It is... was, my home. My planet. It's gone now," he admonished, and the sadness in his old eyes deepened.

"This is all very touching, er, what was your name?"

"Just call me the Doctor."

"Yes, well I am sure you'd love to give me your little sob story right now but we have to, as they say, get down to business. I'm a busy man. The only reason I'm here right now is because you interest me. You're different."

The Doctor scratched absently at his elbow. Now, that he knew already.

Crowley suddenly noticed the blue box across the road. He leaned slightly to the left, his eyes narrowing.

"What is that?"

"That's my spaceship," he said slowly, watching for Crowley's reaction.

Crowley nodded. Of course it was.

"So, what can I do for you, Doctor?"

The Doctor looked past Crowley, up at the cloudy night sky. There were no stars visible. Just dark grey shapes and the muted shine of the moon. How many worlds up there, just a few million miles away, had he saved? He'd done so much, saved so many people. But he hadn't saved her. His best friend, his companion.

"You have to bring her back," he said softly.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that."

"Bring her back. Bring back Amy Pond. Please."

"You're here to bargain your soul for a girl? Touching."

"She's not just a girl, alright? She's... she's my girl."

"Your girlfriend? Wife?" his eyes smiled a little. "Lover?"

"No," he said, frustrated. "She was supposed to stay! And she left me! She left me like they all do and I want her back. I need her back. She can't leave. They all leave..."

Crowley listened to this strange being trip up and over all his words, stringing his sentences together with such an angry urgency that Crowley rocked back on his heels a little, uneasy. But at whom was he angry, exactly? It wasn't often that Crowley wondered at the story behind his clients' wishes. Usually, in fact, they were pretty simple. Oh, I want you to cure my illness, make me the best violinist, help me win an Oscar- all quite straight forward, all quite selfish.

"People leave," he taunted. "Get over it."

"She didn't want to go. She died."

"People die too."

"Are you going to help me or not?" he suddenly shouted. And then, even more suddenly, he took off his thick brown jacket and threw it aside, shrugged the red suspenders off of his shoulders, loosened his deep blue bowtie and undid a few button of his shirt, revealing the top of his pale, hairless chest. He walked over to Crowley and grabbed his hand, placing it over his heart. Crowley felt it beating, hard and fast and strong as a drumbeat, so aggressive he swore his hand jumped a little.

"Do you feel that?" the Doctor said softly, slightly dangerously. "One heart. That's all I have now. One heart, and it certainly doesn't make anything any easier," his voice rose. "I miss her more than anything, and I can't handle it. She's a human! Just a girl! Just some Scottish girl whose garden I crashed in one night, and I love her too much to let her simply... go, like that." He dropped Crowley hand as tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over onto his cheeks. "She wasn't supposed to... they... they took her from me. They took her and they killed her." He sobbed into his hands, wracked with grief and pain and guilt.

Crowley hadn't moved during his outburst except to blink several times in quick succession as the Doctor had seized him. Awkwardly, he put a hand on the other man's shoulder, and squeezed. It felt odd, but right. He didn't want to a make a deal with a sobbing wreck. It made everything seem so pitiful.

"I will help you. For a price, and not a small one either."

"That's fine, I don't care."

He really didn't. Let this demon take all he had. He just wanted her back again.

"Before we do that though-" the Doctor looked up sharply- "I have one question. What happened to her, exactly?"

"Oh, do we really have to go over this?" he sniffed.

"I would like to know."

"Amy was my companion. We travelled together for a long, long time. We ran into some bad people, bad things... and she died. I couldn't save her in time." The tears threatened to start again, so he pressed his palms to his eyes, hard, trying to keep them in. "What is it you want from me?" he said thickly. "I'll give you anything."

"Oh, you already know what I want. What you really want to know is, how much time with her will it give you?" Crowley watched the Doctor carefully as he stared into his eyes. He flicked his own over to black, and the Doctor flinched.

"Because you know, you're special. I think we can make a very, very good deal here, don't you? Your soul would make a nice addition to my collection."

"And just how many souls do you have?"

"Oh, a lot. You wouldn't believe, or maybe you would, just how selfish humans are. And Time Lords, apparently." He grinned, and his eyes flicked back again.

"She was young, demon. She didn't deserve to go, she was meant to stay with me!" He was shouting again, and he didn't care. "Let's just get it over with, alright?"

"Fine. You give me your soul, and I'll give you ten years."

"Ten years?" the Doctor blinked. "Is that all? Ten piddling years for a Time Lord soul? You're ridiculous."

"Ten years is a long time-"

"No, it's not. Nine hundred years is a long time. I need more."

"Selfish and greedy. Great combination, really. I'm impressed. You've far exceeded my expectations of you, Time Lord."

He received no response. The Doctor was simply looking at him. He crossed his arms over his thin chest, and suddenly Crowley felt rather smaller than usual.

What was this man doing? He'd made Crowley interested in him, then he'd shot down his offer. Made him want his soul, then blatantly told him he couldn't have it. Pardon him, but it wasn't fair.

Crowley thought for a moment. This man was very old. Not as old as Crowley of course, but close. Usually a crossroads demon's offer depends on the person's age, what they want and how good- or bad- their souls are. Because the badder the better, and, oh my, this man's soul had been very, very naughty...

He named his price, and the Doctor's eyebrows shot up into his fringe. Crowley considered that this was the highest offer he'd ever made, and it was probably worth it, because this was one of the strangest and most interesting people he'd ever met, by a mile.

"Fine."

"Wh- fine? Really?"

"Yes, fine, bring her back now."

"Woah, tiger. We're not done."

Incredulous, the Doctor said "I just gave you my soul, what more do you want from me?"

"Oh, it's just one tiny thing. A formality, really, but a necessary one," he grinned. "I just need... a little kiss."

After a moment's indecision, the Doctor shrugged, and took Crowley's face in his hands and kissed him, hard. Crowley shut his eyes in response and kissed him back, holding the Doctor's arms in place, pulling him forward, imprisoning him. His feet shuffled on the ground. The Doctor's kiss was aggressive, perhaps because he was so eager for the deal to be done.

Finally Crowley let go, and the Doctor stepped away. He held his arms out wide and said, "there!" like a small child who's just completed what he feels to be an unnecessary task.

Crowley stood still, a little in shock. It wasn't often that one of his clients attacked him like that... but he wasn't sure he was complaining.

He smirked and said simply, "done."

The Doctor heard a click behind him.

The TARDIS door.

Footsteps on the gravel behind him, hands on his waist and a voice with a Scottish lilt in his ear. The wind blew wisps of red hair around his face, and he closed his eyes in relief. "Hello, Doctor."

"Amy," he breathed.

And when he opened his eyes again, Crowley was gone.