A/N: This story contains characters from both Doctor Who and Fright Night. Naturally, the usual disclaimers apply. This story arose after the hype of the 50th Anniversary episode and a bizarre number of showings of Fright Night on free-to-air television. My sincere thanks to LastIncureableRomantic who has read several of the chapters in advance and subsequently took the time to give me invaluable feedback on them. That's about all I've got say, except I hope you enjoy this tale!

Letting Go

Chapter 1

Donna Noble was a temp from Chiswick. Undeniably, if she did say so herself, she was the best temp in Chiswick with her 100 words per minute but she was still a temp. Donna Noble didn't get impromptu job offers from high profile entertainment companies based in Las Vegas, Nevada. Said job offers didn't include her first pay bundle up front regardless of whether or not she committed to the job and they certainly didn't overlook the fact that she had absolutely no experience as an agent in the entertainment industry. This didn't explain why Donna Noble had accepted the enclosed plane ticket – business class – and was currently in transit to Las Vegas.

As she reclined in the ridiculously luxurious seat, her legs casually occupying the ludicrous amount of space "business class" warranted, she reflected once more upon her decision to accept the job. She'd surprised herself, despite the four-digit enticement that had accompanied the offer, by taking a little over a week to come to a decision. Hard Rock – the company which had offered her the position – seemed to have no qualms with the delay and had happily informed her that the job was waiting for her regardless. It had certainly sounded dodgy and at one point Donna had almost decided it wasn't worth the risk. Her mother, Sylvia, had been particularly vocal about the absurdity of an American company hiring Donna out of the blue though and that had sealed the deal for her. She wanted to prove her mother wrong and perhaps for once earn something more than disdain from Sylvia Noble. Deep down she knew her mother was struggling with her husband's death but there was a limit to Donna's sympathy. After all, Geoffrey Noble had been her father.

Donna rubbed the wretched tear that was threatening to fall out of her eye. It wouldn't do to dwell on her dad at the moment. He was gone now and it was up to Donna to sort her life out for herself. Besides, she still had Gramps rooting for her even if she was flying 5000 miles away from him. Wilf had been the lone voice of reason the past week, counselling her to find out what she could about the job and helping her to establish that it was indeed a legitimate offer before telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He'd noted the change in his granddaughter since the disaster that had been her wedding day and he knew that she was out there looking for someone. Donna smiled fondly as she reflected on Wilf's final words of wisdom, whispered as he'd hugged her goodbye at the Heathrow terminal.

'Just you wait Donna, for all you know he's over there in Las Vegas.'

She'd smiled properly at that but as it was well over a year since she'd turned that ridiculous "spaceman" down somehow she doubted he'd be waiting for her in Vegas. Still, she couldn't help but hope and if there was one thing the bizarre job offer promised, it was an adventure.

'Would you like a warm towel, ma'am?'

Donna frowned at the air stewardess.

'And just what would I do with a warm towel, hmm?'

The air stewardess seemed rather taken aback by her sarcasm and struggled to come up with a suitable reply.

'I'm fine, thanks,' Donna offered more kindly, taking pity on the poor girl. 'I don't normally travel business class,' she admitted self-deprecatingly.

The girl smiled, accepting the peace offering.

'I've never quite grasped why we offer warm towels,' she told Donna conspiratorially, slotting the damp flannel back in her trolley. 'Is there anything else I can get you, ma'am?'

'I'd murder a cup of tea if you've got one around somewhere,' Donna whispered, certain that ordering tea in business class was rather tame. 'English Breakfast? Milk, no sugar please.'

'Of course,' the stewardess agreed easily. 'I'll be right back.'

Donna watched as the stewardess disappeared off to fetch the tea finally returning her attention to the laptop she'd been neglecting. She'd avoided looking up her client so far, not quite believing that she was specifically being sought out to act as the man's agent, but now that she was halfway across the Atlantic she realised she really needed to know as much as possible about him before she landed. Pulling up the search engine she hesitantly typed in his name: Peter Vincent.

Over 73 million hits were summoned by her search but she settled for the official site first. At least that way she would be able to assume fifty percent of what she read was probably the truth. The website was undoubtedly supposed to appear enticing but to Donna it looked like the creator had gone more than a little over the top with the special effects. She skipped the introduction sequence – honestly it was like PowerPoint on steroids – and finally arrived at the home screen. A man dressed in leather stared back at her and for the first time Donna seriously considered that she'd really made a mistake in accepting the job. It seemed her client was an expert on Vampires.

'Well, isn't that wizard,' Donna mumbled under her breath.

Just what had she been thinking going into this blind? She should have looked Peter Vincent up the moment she'd been offered the job. He was clearly an illusionist – Donna refused to consider he might actually believe in vampires – his show based on cheap tricks and special effects. As she flicked through the website she read the incredibly brief "About The Peter Vincent" – did he honestly refer to himself as the definitive article? – and scrolled through the record of his past work. He'd supposedly had a previous show – Vampiric – which had been a sell out in New York but there was very little information about it. Opening another tab she searched "Peter Vincent Vampiric" and got less than a 100 hits. Frowning she typed in her client's current show "Fright Night", her eyebrows rising in disbelief as she got over 50 million hits. Perhaps the website had recorded the previous show incorrectly, she thought briefly as she scrolled down the page to see when the website had last been updated. It had been updated less than a week ago by BadWolfCo – one of Peter Vincent's sponsors – but Donna was surprised to note the website itself appeared to be only 3 months old.

'Here you are ma'am.'

Donna was pulled from her thoughts as the air stewardess returned with a small tray containing a tea set. The girl set them down beside Donna's laptop her gaze inadvertently falling on the open webpage.

'Are you going to see Peter Vincent?' the stewardess asked excitedly.

If the girl's reaction was anything to go by she was apparently a bit of a fan. Donna Noble decided it was time to slip into "detective mode".

'Yes, I'm hoping to catch the show while I'm in Vegas. Have you been?'

'Oh yes!' the girl gushed. 'I had a stopover the other week in Vegas and some of my girlfriends were in town and treated me to the show. It was spectacular. I'm hoping to go again. Peter Vincent's amazing. It's like he really knows, you know? And he's costume! Well it's more than a little you know.' She broke off, giving Donna a suggestive look that she undoubtedly expected her to inherently understand.

'Oh I know,' Donna agreed convincingly. 'I wish I'd heard about him sooner!'

'You know I thought the same,' the air stewardess continued freely, oblivious to Donna's deception. 'Couldn't believe I hadn't heard of him before last month, I'd have gone to Vampiric if I'd known! Apparently in that show the vampires almost tore his leather pants to shreds with their teeth. Can you imagine!? I'd give anything to have been one of those vampire girls.'

'Mhmm,' Donna hummed.

'Those girls are more than lucky,' the stewardess added dreamily. 'They say Peter's particularly friendly towards the girls he works with.'

Donna didn't miss the double meaning.

'Anyway, enjoy the show,' the stewardess gushed. 'I best get back to work.'

She smiled friendlily at Donna before hurrying down the aisle to a harassed business man who seemed to be struggling with the TV in the back of his seat. Donna watched her go before returning her attention to her laptop screen. Peter Vincent stared back at her, his brown eyes boring into her as though he wasn't just an image on a screen. There was something about him that seemed familiar; a niggling sensation that she'd met this man before. Donna was certain though that she'd certainly have remembered a skinny strip of leather clad nothing, tattooed Vampire Slayer with far too much hair and a rather ridiculous goatee if she ever had run into him before. Rolling her eyes at the strange sensation that she knew Peter Vincent, she shut her laptop down. It was dark outside the plane and she wanted to get some rest. Besides if even half of what she'd read about Peter Vincent was true – and if the stewardess was to be believed – she was going to have her work cut out for her. Peter Vincent sounded like a walking PR disaster waiting to happen; a male one at that and one who sounded a little too friendly for Donna's liking. Reclining her chair back, Donna let herself drift off to sleep. Peter Vincent was a problem for tomorrow.

o0o

Las Vegas was everything and nothing like Donna had expected. She'd been met at the airport by a pompous Hard Rock official who'd seemed to take immediate personal offence to her accent. The man had scowled the entire trip to the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino and Donna had been relieved to see the back of him. He was the lawyer from Hard Rock who'd been charged with overseeing her contract. Thankfully his job was simply to witness the forms as she signed onto the contract and it was unlikely she'd have to interact with the man again in the foreseeable future. He'd left in a huff rudely informing her that she would be escorted up to Peter Vincent's penthouse later that evening once the show was over. Donna had taken great pleasure in shutting the door in the lawyer's face before turning to inspect the apartment that was now hers for the time being.

Her contract lasted six months, subject to renewal, and depended entirely upon Peter Vincent's plans for the future. For the moment he seemed content to continue in Las Vegas for some time but Donna doubted the City of Sin would hold the man's attention forever. There was plenty of time for contemplation later though, Donna thought tiredly. For now she simply wanted to sleep. She knew she should try and fight the jet lag for a little longer, given it was half-four in the afternoon, but with the prospect of having to face Peter Vincent later that night she wanted to be as refreshed as possible. After all she'd be spending the next six months working for him.

She sought out the luxurious bathroom immediately and spent half an hour standing under the high-pressure shower as she washed away the grime of travel. The ten hour flight had left her feeling filthy and had reminded her yet again why she disliked air travel. Thankfully the bellboy had already bought up her suitcases and it was with relief Donna pulled on her pyjamas and sank into the wonderfully plush mattress of her King size bed. She had just enough foresight to organise with the concierge for a wake-up call at 9pm before she succumbed to sleep.

o0o

Despite her initial chagrin at being woken Donna was glad she'd organised to be woken at nine. It gave her just enough time to order a light meal from room service and to freshen up before she met Peter Vincent. Searching through her suitcase Donna pulled on one of her smarter pantsuits. She didn't want for there to be any miscommunication between her and Peter Vincent. As far as Donna was concerned, she'd been hired to act as his agent – via Hard Rock – and she intended to manage Peter Vincent. If any of the press clippings she'd read were even the slightest bit true she was going to have her hands full with this man and she intended to lay down the law from the beginning. There would be no funny business where Donna Noble was concerned.

She was paging through a travel guide book she'd found on the coffee table when the knock finally came at her door. It was past eleven and Donna was annoyed. She'd been told Peter's show finished at ten and that she had been scheduled to see him at half ten. Grabbing the thick dark red folder which had been sent up to her by the concierge – outlining Peter Vincent's commitments for the next six months – she stalked towards the door, opening it sharply. A young woman stood before her clad in an incredibly skimpy black satin night gown.

'Donna Noble?' she inquired disinterestedly.

Donna glanced over the girl taking in the dyed hair – a drab almost ginger colour although her dark roots were obvious – the manicured nails and the residue of stage make-up. She was a petite girl and clearly fit.

'Mr Vincent's assistant I take it?' Donna answered carefully. If this girl did indeed work for Peter Vincent it meant Donna would be spending a fair amount of time with her and she didn't particularly want to spend the next six months feuding with the young woman if it could be helped. She appeared to be rather annoyed that she'd been sent to fetch Donna.

'Mister Vincent,' she scoffed in disbelief, laughing slightly as though she found the title ridiculous. 'He's no mister. And I'm not his fucking assistant, if that's what he told you. Fucking douchebag. I'm his girlfriend if he isn't too busy fucking every other girl he meets.'

She spoke with a heavy accent and Donna wondered if she was Italian. Regardless, she appeared to be very upset with Peter Vincent. Despite the make-up she couldn't be much older than 25, Donna thought sadly. Now that she'd said her piece the girl was rubbing surreptitiously at her eyes, clearly attempting not to cry.

'What's your name?' Donna asked gently, ushering the young girl into her room as she sought out some tissues.

'Ginger.'

Donna plucked several tissues from the box and turned back to "Ginger". She handed them over silently, glancing pointedly at the dark roots obvious in the girl's hair.

'And was it always Ginger?' she asked gently, sitting herself down next to the upset girl.

The girl eyed her suspiciously for a moment before wiping away the tears and the remnants of her stage make up.

'No,' she admitted quietly. 'But that's what he calls me. It's what they all call me.'

Donna didn't need to ask who "he" was.

'I don't care what he calls you.'

Ginger looked up in surprise, clearly not expecting such an adamant statement. The young girl looked Donna over carefully for a few moments before she relaxed. It seemed she'd found a kindred spirit in Donna – after all Donna had had her fair share of disastrous work relationships and that wasn't even counting the fiasco with Lance.

'Francesca Russo.'

'That's a beautiful name,' Donna said genuinely.

'Grazie.'

They sat in silence for a few moments longer, Francesca carefully wiping away her tears before she spoke up.

'I'm sorry it's so late,' she explained hurriedly. 'The show finished a little late and then he was distracted by one of his fans. He should be done by now; he lasts less than ten minutes,' she added bitterly.

Donna frowned at the clear insinuation.

'Why are you with him Francesca?'

It was a blunt question but genuine. Francesca seemed surprised and for a moment Donna realised she might have overstepped the boundary with her new acquaintance but the girl shrugged and answered.

'Love?' she supplied simply, although it sounded like a question and if the girl's tumultuous expression was anything to go by it clearly wasn't a straight forward answer. 'Or at least a green card I hope. You wouldn't pick it but my boyfriend has US citizenship.'

Francesca wiped once more at her tears before getting up and binning her used tissues.

'We should go up,' she said. 'He gets impatient.'

'We'll go up when you're ready,' Donna replied breezily. 'Perhaps he might learn to keep to his appointments this way.'

Francesca laughed.

'You have spirit Ms Noble. I like you.'

'Thank you,' Donna replied cheerfully. 'And it's Donna.'

'Well Donna, would you like to meet Mr Vincent?'

Donna chuckled at the use of "Mister", collecting her folder from the coffee table before gesturing for Francesca to lead the way. Peter Vincent lived in the penthouse one floor above Donna's own apartment. If she hadn't read around and realised that Peter had the potential to be an incredibly liable client she'd have questioned the amount of money Hard Rock were spending on her. As it was, she was beginning to wonder if the luxury apartment would be enough to keep her in Vegas for six months.

As the lift opened to the private penthouse Donna got her first insight into Peter Vincent's life. Her first thought was extravagance. The huge room bespoke a wealth Donna had never before personally encountered. Her second thought was absolute nutter. The grand entrance to his living quarters was set out like a museum with dozens of glass cases containing artefacts. She didn't have to look very long to realise that all of the artefacts were to do with vampires and other supernatural beings. Just from the entrance way alone she could see a dozen stakes not to mention several hand guns nestled in amongst silver bullets.

'He's obsessed,' Donna observed candidly, absolutely thrown by the bizarre collection. 'Properly obsessed with vampires.'

Beside her Francesca snorted.

'Didn't they mention that in the job description?'

'Can't say they did,' Donna murmured, unable to stop herself from looking in some of the cases.

'Don't touch,' Francesca warned. 'He's pissy about this stuff.'

Donna stopped her hand just short of selecting one of the books off the bookshelf that lined the room. She glanced at Francesca and realised she wasn't joking. Stepping away from the books she nodded towards the other end of the room.

'In there is he?'

Francesca shrugged.

'If he's not passed out in the bedroom.'

Donna nodded sharply before turning and making her way further into the penthouse. It was time to meet Peter Vincent. As she stepped into the next room Donna let out an involuntary gasp in awe as she caught sight of the view. Floor to ceiling windows offered a magnificent view of the city, the lights of the various casinos and hotels startlingly innocent as they inhabited the skyline. This was a different side to Las Vegas, hidden from the majority of visitors who passed through the sleepless city.

Finally she drew her gaze away from the outside world and looked around the room. She raised an eyebrow as she caught sight of the extravagant fireplace set incongruously in the middle of the room, burning cheerfully and unattended. To her left there was a kitchen that looked much more like a bar and had clearly been used recently. To her right there was a bank of couches around an enormous wall-mounted flat screen television. Peter Vincent was conspicuously absent though. She turned to ask Francesca where he was but found herself alone in the room.

The sound of a toilet flushing rang out in the silence; somewhere off to the right and out of sight. It was a few minutes more before Peter Vincent appeared.

He was wearing a loose black satin robe – much like Francesca's – that left very little to the imagination. The stage make-up was gone and with it the hair that had so clearly been a wig now that Donna thought back on it. Surprisingly the beard and the side-burns were gone too but there was no mistaking the man who stood before her now. He was fiddling with the loop of his gown as he stepped into the room before he realised he was no longer alone. The moment she met his gaze Donna knew without a doubt that he was exactly who she thought he was. They were the same brown eyes that had begged her to come with him two Christmases ago.

'So you finally decided to accept my job offer Donna Noble.'

'Doctor?'