"You see, my sonic screwdriver has a setting for that, so it was very easy for me to hack into your system… and send your ship heading back towards your home planet." The Doctor said gallantly. "I'm sure they'll be happy to see you, I'm sure they have a lovely jail cell set up for their traitors."

With the flick of a switch, the Doctor turned the monitor off and went back to his lovely TARDIS' controls. He flipped a few more switches elegantly, pumped the pinball machine and took a seat, letting the TARDIS do what it did best.

"Where to now?" He smirked to himself. Suddenly, the TARDIS rocked to one side, as if something had hit it. He jumped to his feet ready for action.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The TARDIS faded away and now John Smith found himself looking into the blackness of closed eyes. He groaned and his lanky arm shot out from under his soft, warm blanket desperately trying to find the snooze button on his alarm clock. He groaned as his hand searched and searched.

"For Christ's sake!" He growled angrily and rose from under his covers, revealing his bed head and the shadows under his eyes. "I just wanted one more bloody minute of sleep!"

He slammed his hand down so hard on the defenseless alarm clock that it fell to the floor. He groaned again and slid out of bed. John picked up his clock and then went over to his window. He opened the blinds and immediately shielded his eyes from the blinding light. The blinds were then closed again, and the mold, which he of course hadn't noticed starting to grow, around the corner of his room silently rejoiced.

John Smith rubbed the sleep from his eyes and walked over to his dresser, maneuvering around the dirty t-shirts that littered the floor. On the dresser sat an expensive leather bound journal, it was old and worn, he'd had it for many years now. He'd bought it a while ago at a flea market, wondering how such a beautiful antique had ended up with so much rubbish. John had bought it with the last of his money and then, of course, it had started to rain… well more like pour. He'd ran back to his flat, utterly drenched by the time he'd gotten inside, but the journal had remained dry in his inner pocket.

For a while he hadn't written anything in it. Absolutely nothing. He wasn't much of an author, so a novel was out of the question. And nothing exciting ever seemed to happen to him. Nothing at all. That was, except for his dreams. Now those were remarkable. He'd been having them for so long, that he couldn't even remember when they'd started.

Nearly every night, when he drifted off to sleep he was transported into the body of The Doctor. A timelord from some place called Gallifrey. Except, now he was the last one, because he'd had to kill off the rest of his race. So, now he just traveled around through space and time in his TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimension In Space), usually with a companion, who (John noticed) was almost always a pretty girl.

John liked these dreams, more than that though, he loved them. Every night he became almost like a superhero, always saying the right thing and saving the day. It was perfection, considering John was a dreadfully average bloke (even his name was average, John Smith, possibly the least exciting name ever). Sometimes John didn't even want to wake up in the morning, but of course he always had to. Life went on.

At least he was able to keep track of his dreams. He'd started writing them down, as soon as he got up in the morning they went straight into his journal, so he wouldn't forget them. Sometimes before he went to sleep at night, he'd just sit up reading them. It usually depressed him to do so. After all, he'd never be The Doctor, he'd always be the very average, very human John Smith.

He scribbled down the last of the previous night's dream and set to picking out clothes for the day. He glanced at the clock. 8:30am. Oh god! He realized. He was supposed meet his friend Craig for breakfast in fifteen minutes at the café down the block.

He pulled on a pair of black trousers that were slightly to short for him. He scanned the floor for a suitable shirt to wear. The first thing he saw was a button down shirt that still had an undone bowtie under the collar. Why'd I ever buy a bowtie? He shook his head as he picked up the shirt. Then he spotted a t-shirt that didn't look to used on the ground and threw the other shirt back.

Minutes later, he was dressed and had brushed his teeth. With the precision of someone who's done something hundreds of times before, he expertly combed his hair so that it became the perfect shape, combed carefully on one side and on the other side of the part a long flop of hair.

John grabbed his messenger bag and a jacket hanging over a chair and ran down the stairs of the apartment building. He flew out the door and skidded to a stop in time to turn right and not go running into the street, where cars went by dangerously fast. He ran as fast as his lanky legs would carry him and his jacket billowed in the breeze behind him as he attempted to put it on as he ran, it was after all a rather chilly day and the clouds covered the sun. He was surprisingly agile for someone so lanky and thus was able to glide around people on the crowded streets.

He saw the café coming up and checked his watch. Three minutes before he was late. John saw Craig, turned mostly away from him,waiting outside the café checking his own watch. John slowed down as he neared the establishment.

"Hey!" He called waving to his friend.

Craig turned and smiled warmly at him. Now that he was facing John, John saw that Craig was carrying his infant son, whose name John couldn't remember. John's friendly smile fell as he saw this. Craig had gotten married some time back to his longtime girlfriend Sophie and they'd had a child. It hadn't really mattered to John; at least that's what he kept telling himself. He'd gone to Craig's wedding and it had been nice, but John couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. He kept feeling that there was some woman missing from his life. Seeing Craig with his kid just reminded John of that jealousy.

He walked up to Craig and tried to put on a false smile. "Hey."

"Good to see you mate!" Craig bellowed like he hadn't seen John in forever. Craig was a rather big guy, but not height wise. He had dirty blonde hair neatly combed back and was in a button down shirt and trousers. The shirt had dots of either baby food or baby vomit, John couldn't tell which. "Man feels like forever since we met up, you know just the two of us."

"Not that long." John replied sheepishly. "And not just the two of us." He nodded towards the little bundle of joy in Craig's arms.

"Oh yeah!" Craig said smacking himself in the forehead with his free arm. "I swear I forgot entirely he was here. Some father I am."

He laughed, but when he saw that John hadn't shared in his laughter. He said. "Look I'm sorry man, but Sophie's working early today and it's not like I could find a sitter for like eight in the morning. He'll be quiet I'm sure. Not a peep out of him."

John sighed. He knew that it wasn't Craig's fault that he'd had to bring his baby along. "What's his name again?"

"Alfie." Craig responded proudly.

"Stormageddon." John mumbled.

"What was that?" Craig asked.

"Nothing, just he looks more like a Stormageddon to me." John shrugged.

Craig laughed and rubbed Alfie's cheek. "Stormageddon? What kind of a name is that for a baby?" Alfie smiled as his daddy said Stormageddon. "Any way let's go inside. I'm starving."

They entered the café.