Author's Note: I edited this chapter to make the transitions between POVs more clear. I hope it makes it easier to read.

I do not own Doctor Who or Supernatural. The only thing I own is Carlizle, who is a figment of my imagination.

Chapter 1

Carlizle stepped out of the TARDIS doors, giggling hysterically, and the Doctor followed behind her, dressed in a purple suit, a black-and-yellow polka dotted bow tie, and a bowler hat. He smiled as wide as he could and she turned towards him, returning that smile. She grabbed a different side of her unzipped jacket in each hand and wrapped it tight around herself, biting her bottom lip the way she did when she was happy. "We should go to Circus World more often," she told him, her eyes smiling.

"I don't go there near enough. Last time I went…" He shuddered. "Nasty business. I've been terrified of elephants ever since. So…" he clapped his hands together, "let's make plans for tomorrow, yeah?"

"You're picking me up tomorrow?" Carlizle asked, cocking her head slightly to the right. She smiled, but it was a suspicious smile. "You never make plans. You just show up…what are you up to?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." But he smiled mischievously in spite of himself.

"You're totally up to something! I can…I can smell it on you!" Carlizle moved her hands up and down in front of him, wriggling her fingers in front of him. "It smells like shenanigans. You reek of it."

"Well, that's my natural musk, I guess," the Doctor said, straightening his bowtie. Carlizle shoved him playfully in return.

"So tomorrow, then? For this big 'mystery date'?" Carlizle made air quotes with her fingers.

"Tomorrow," he assured her, grasping her hands in his and looking into her eyes, his gaze sealing the promise.

"See you tomorrow, then," she giggled, biting her lower lip. He loved it when she did that. He let go of her hands and skipped into the TARDIS as if he were a young, happy schoolboy. He turned to see her wave goodbye, and then closed the door.

Carlizle didn't look away until the TARDIS had fully dematerialized. She kept looking at the empty space where the big blue police box had been, an empty feeling inside her. She didn't want to turn around. She didn't want to go back home.

But she did turn around, and she walked to the apartment that her uncle owned, her Converse sneakers squeaking against the wet pavement.

She wrapped her leather jacket closer around her as she made her way down the dark, dusty hallway of the apartment complex, and arrived at the door leading to her apartment. It was unlocked. It always was when she wasn't home. Her uncle didn't care much for his own safety. He was too drunk to care much about things like locks.

She nervously pushed open the door, wondering if her uncle would spring upon her suddenly and bash her head against the doorframe, screaming, demanding answers to where she had been, or if he would just sit silently in his recliner watching a hockey game with a can of beer in one hand and more empty cans littering the floor around his feet.

Neither happened.

This unexpected turn of events shocked Carlizle slightly. But she determined that he must be out, drinking with…she wouldn't call them 'friends', but probably more accurately, 'other drunks.' It didn't surprise her that he had left the door unlocked after going out. He was careless. Thoughtless. Drunk.

But he had left a light on in the kitchen. Carlizle hated when he did things like that. She could see the dim yellow light pouring in from the crack under the kitchen door. She walked forward, breathing through her mouth so that the reek of the semi-empty beer cans scattered on the floor wouldn't affect her as much. She pushed open the warped wooden door.

He was in there in his stained t-shirt, and his dirty, ripped jeans. He was standing in the middle of the floor, so drunk it oozed off of him like a halo surrounding his body. And he had a gun in his hand and a wry smile on his face.

Carlizle froze with fear. "What are you—"

He pointed the gun towards his head.

BANG.

Blood. Blood was everywhere and Carlizle hated blood.

She must have blacked out for a second because she couldn't remember what happened.

Was everything in slow motion? Or was it going too fast for her to see?

Maybe she was stuck in her own bubble of time. And the world around her was going fast but she was going slow, so slow.

She reached forward to catch her uncle but he was already on the floor. What was left of him at least. And there was blood and…and other…matter…that Carlizle didn't want to think of…it lined the walls and the floor and the appliances in the kitchen were spattered with it. Carlizle fell to her hands and knees and retched but nothing came up, and it made her feel worse than if she had actually vomited. She reached up to touch her face and found it wet. She had started to cry without realizing it.

Carlizle stood up and shakily made her way over to the wall phone, praying to God that her uncle been sober enough to pay the phone bill this month, and she called the police.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"He just—he just—he—he—he—" It scared her that she couldn't form any words. She tried to stop her sobs enough to form a coherent sentence. "He took a gun I don't know where he got it please can someone come and help me."

The next few hours were a blur, but she remembered being given a blanket and something hot to drink. She had been questioned by the police. Had she told them anything? She didn't know. She didn't know where she was. It was a room. And there was a woman there in a suit, talking about her uncle's will, and how the proceedings were occurring faster than usual because of Carlizle's not having any other family left alive that they could place her with.

The lady was explaining something about Carlizle's uncle saying something in his will about a specific person he wanted to be Carlizle's guardian, but Carlizle wasn't paying attention and only nodded or muttered something when she felt it was necessary. Because through all of these proceedings and all of the questions and the hours and the numbness all she could think of was that the Doctor had promised he would come today and he hadn't come yet. Why didn't he take her away? Why couldn't she go away with him?

And then the lady was soothing her, because she had started to cry violently.

* * * * Carlizle awoke in a car. It was a government car. Carlizle knew that because of the smell. It smell…executive. Official.

Her neck ached from sleeping slumped in the seat. A red mark was temporarily on her neck from where the seatbelt had dug into her skin. She blinked several times and blearily looked around at the setting. They must have traveled far. She was with the lady again. They were both in the backseat and a stocky white man was driving.

They must be taking me to my new guardian, Carlizle thought, emotionally detached from the situation. How could the Doctor let them take her away? Why didn't he step in?

Where was he?

The lady was reading a newspaper, flipping through the sports section. Carlizle shifted so that she could look out the window, but that was a mistake. She had attracted the attention of the lady. The lady folded her newspaper and touched Carlizle's thigh. "Are you awake?" she asked.

Carlizle nodded in reply.

"Are you hungry?" the lady asked Carlizle. Carlizle glanced over at the lady, not bothering to turn her head. The lady had rich dark skin. Her hair curled out of her head in a wild way, but the lady tried to tame it in a severe bun. It didn't work and several strands had already broken free. Her dark brown eyes were too large to be considered beautiful, and her lips too small. She wore a light gray suit and black heels that looked painful to Carlizle. Carlizle shook her head 'no' in response to the lady's question and closed her eyes. A few moments of silence ensued, which Carlizle felt were comfortable but the lady apparently felt were awkward and needed to be filled. The one-sided conversation was something like:

"I can't imagine how you must be feeling."

"I'm sorry that you had to see such a thing…no one as young as you—" and then Carlizle tuned her out until the lady said:

"We're almost at Bobby's. I'm sure he'll have something for you to eat."

"Bobby?" Carlizle asked, confused.

The lady looked surprised that Carlizle could speak. "Ye—yes. Bobby Singer. Your new guardian? I thought we went over this…" She picked up a briefcase from the floor and rummaged through several papers. "I have the will here—"

"No, no…I just forgot for a second," Carlizle lied. "It's been a long day."

"A long couple of days, I'd guess. Almost a whole week." The lady shook her head sadly and returned to reading the newspaper.

Carlizle took this news soberly. That a week had almost passed by in her stupor. And the Doctor hadn't come to rescue her. He hadn't stepped forward and insisted that he be her next guardian. He hadn't even just grabbed her and ran, ignoring what the authorities might want. He hadn't come for her.

"Yeah," Carlizle sighed. She closed her eyes and slept; the sound of the road passing beneath her lulling her to sleep.

They arrived in a few hours to a house that didn't look like it had been lived in for a few years. It seemed that hundreds of cars were in the front yard ("Great, a crazy hillbilly that own a junkyard," Carlizle said to herself under her breath) serving no purpose other than to make it seem only ghosts inhabited this property. But as if to refute that thought, there stood a man with a beard and a cap in the driveway, arms crossed. He had been expecting them. Who knows for how long he had stood like that?

"We're here,' the lady gently told Carlizle, as if saying the words any louder would cause Carlizle to burst into flames. Carlizle rolled her eyes and the woman's inability to treat her like a real person, like an adult, and resumed staring out the window with her arms crossed. Almost immediately, she returned back to sleep.

The black car rolled to a stop in front of Bobby but he didn't move an inch. The driver didn't move from his spot, either, but kept his eyes glued to Bobby at all times as if he expected Bobby to suddenly attack. Bobby smirked at this thought, especially since he was sure that he could easily overpower the cocky, self-confident driver. The left backseat door opened and an African-American woman emerged, her formal and stiff suit looking ridiculous and out of place in Bobby's yard. She looked around at the old, dysfunctional cars around her and wrinkled her nose in distaste. Seeing the angry expression on Bobby's face in response to this gesture, though, she immediately stopped and kept her face unmoving. She walked over to Bobby and shook his hand, and introduced herself as "Miss Coleson". She immediately apologized for the short notice on bringing Carlizle.

"It's not a problem…So she was with Luke, right?" Bobby asked. He might have looked like he was trying to get information on the girl, but he was actually trying to get information on her uncle. Because he didn't remember anyone by the name of Luke Carpenter, and certainly never agreed to be the guardian of his niece. He had ignored all of this, though, for the girl's sake, and pretended to know everything about these proceedings, and pretended to mourn for the loss of someone that he actually didn't know.

"Yes. Poor girl." She looked him over, then said in a hushed voice, as if shocked by scandal, "I don't know if you know this…but Luke was a drunk. A mean drunk."

"Oh. He changed since I last knew him then."

"I suppose he did. Practically dropped off the radar for years. Didn't do much except sit around the house drinking. The girl had to work two jobs in addition to going to school, just to get enough money to pay rent. Didn't make him like her though." Miss Coleson shuddered. "You know, of course, don't you…about what he did to her."

No. "Yes, they told me."

Miss Coleson shivered again. "I'm sorry. I'm just…" She touched her hand to her forehead and shrugged, as if she couldn't explain her emotions. "I'm just new to this job. And so seeing those scars, and imagining how he gave them to her…" She shuddered again.

Bobby nodded slowly, and looked at the car to the girl in the backseat. She was pretty. She had freckles and dark blond hair and was wearing a leather jacket. He smiled when he saw that she was sleeping soundly.

"I'll go get her," Miss Coleson said. She walked back to the car and opened Carlizle's door, shaking her gently to wake her up. Carlizle snapped awake. Unexpectedly, she screamed aloud and shoved Miss Coleson away, unbuckled her seatbelt as quick as lightning and threw herself to the other side of the car, crouching in the corner, poised to attack again. All this happened so fast that Bobby had a hard time believing it happened. But Miss Coleson was there, trying to console Carlizle and persuading her to "come out of the car please." Carlizle seemed to realize that she had let down her emotional guard for a second. And then Carlizle's face lost all fear, all emotion, and became a face indifferent to the world around it. She was an island to herself and wanted no one else near her.

Carlizle got out of the car and allowed Miss Coleson to grab her elbow and escort her to Bobby. She unwrapped a piece of spearmint gum hat she had been keeping in her pocket and began to chew, avoiding Bobby's gaze.

She just wanted this over with.

Carlizle didn't care who this guy was. If her uncle had appointed him as guardian, he must be bad. All she wanted was the Doctor. Had he forgotten about her?

She pinched herself. Stop thinking about the Doctor. Get over him. He obviously didn't think you were worth his time…well, then, he isn't worth your time either, she thought angrily. It's a two-way street.

Bobby and Miss Coleson took her into the house and showed her the kitchen and living room. Then he showed her upstairs where there was a bedroom with a large, queen-sized bed and white curtains hung on the window. It smelled like old books and had a dresser against one wall. The walls were a red color and the wood floor creaked gently beneath her feet. She loved it. Of course, she would never admit that.

"This is your room," Bobby told her. "I fixed it up yesterday, so just…let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," Carlizle said, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. She walked into the room farther, turning to examine all corners.

"Do you have any stuff that needs to be brought in?" Bobby asked, apparently feeling very awakward. "Any luggage?"

Miss Coleson ever-so-discreetly cleared her throat and whispered in Bobby's ear. Carlizle knew what she was saying. How Carlizle didn't have any possessions except the clothes on her back because she had sold them all to pay for…well, anything necessary. What a walking sob story I am. She walked into the room and threw herself onto the soft, white sheets that covered the bed, kicking off her shoes and intertwining her fingers behind her head.

"Look, she's already at home," she heard Miss Coleson tell Bobby as she and he moved down the hall. Carlizle shook her head in contempt for the statement and rolled onto her side. Now they were probably in the living room, discussing how fit Bobby was for taking care of her, of different options of schools, whatever it was that they talked about in situations like these. Carlizle sniffled and scratched the side of her nose with her thumb and willed herself not to cry.