Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Doctor Who or any of the related rights.

...

He parked the TARDIS outside her house and felt very much like a kid, maybe only a hundred or two hundred years old, waiting to pick up his first date. All he needed was some flowers.

She saw him and waved at him through the window and motioned for him to wait. Yes, she made him wait outside. He really did feel like he was a hundred years old trying to sneak out on a date with his childhood crush. (She was, for the record, gorgeous and brilliant, and she wiped the floor with him in temporal physics.)

He watched the doors and waited for her to fly through them—and fly she did, right into his arms for a big, warm hug. She tipped him off balance with the force of her hug, and he was surprised, but then she had his finger in his face telling him off like he was one of her kids. "No stranding me in the Arctic this time," she said seriously. "I still feel cold, and it's summer here!"

He laughed. "Only if you promise not to try and hitch any more rides off of random ferrymen."

"He seemed genuinely nice!"

"We sank five minutes after we left the dock!" he shot back, grinning. He'd missed her. It had only been a few minutes for him—just warped to the next Wednesday she'd asked him to stop by—but he had really missed her.

He was surprised he could still miss someone like that. After all the losses, you'd think he would have learned by now not to get too attached. He should have learned.

But he never learned.

"So, where would you like to go?"

"Somewhere warm," she said with a smile.

"I know a pretty decent beach," he said, thinking of a place near Stanford that should have safe waters if he hit the time period just right. Clara deserved to go somewhere without any monsters.

Especially given their most recent monsters.

The Doctor sighed. He was getting old, he was getting tired, and he was most especially sick of watching the people he loved die and . . . worse.

That was why he'd wanted to take her to Vegas. They were both shaken up after that, and they wanted a good vacation. They got another monster and freezing waters and nuclear weapons instead, and Clara had insisted that he give her at least a week before he came to pick her up again.

He gave her two weeks. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes again, wasn't going to burn out another bright and shining companion. She deserved to have her own life and to not live through his mistakes, and he was trying his very best to give her that, no matter how much it hurt.

But here she was, smiling and ready for another adventure, and he could tell that she'd missed him too.

"So, we're going swimming?" she asked, giving him a look.

"That boat was your fault."

"Of course it was." She giggled.

He pulled levers and pushed buttons with the kind of flourish that either made her roll her eyes or grin at him. "California beaches. Sand and surf and no monsters, I promise." He laughed. "We already got rid of the monsters. Me and Sam . . . ." He trailed off, realizing what he'd said.

She stiffened. "No," she said.

"He's not there anymore—"

"No," she said, even more firmly.

His shoulders slumped. He understood this. He really did. But it was hard. He had so many friends, and he loved them, and when they didn't get along, it was hard.

But when they hated each other . . . .

"Okay," he said. "No Stanford beaches." He started to input some new coordinates.

The TARDIS whined, and he tried to cover it up so Clara wouldn't notice, wouldn't feel jealous. The TARDIS loved her Winchesters, and he could feel her disappointment.

And then he could feel something else. A decision.

"What's going on, old girl?" he asked her.

Clara gave him a look. She and the TARDIS hadn't quite connected, and the Doctor had a feeling . . . .

"We're going somewhere?" Clara asked as the center pillar started to move up and down.

"Somewhere warm," the Doctor promised, even though he wasn't sure. When the TARDIS set her mind to something, when they went off on a wild adventure, when she set the coordinates herself . . . Well, the TARDIS said she'd take him where he needed to go, but sometimes she could be vindictive, sometimes jealous, sometimes overprotective. The Doctor turned to Clara. "You'll like it. I promise."

She didn't look like she believed him. And he didn't believe it himself.

The Doctor grinned as they landed and held out his hand to her. She took it, a little hesitantly, but he held her hand as firmly as he could. He had her back. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her. And he might not have said it out loud, but that was always what he meant when he took her hand.

She smiled at him, her trusting, open, but ever-cautious smile, and then she burst through the doors, all excitement and wonder and all the reasons he'd asked her to come along with him.

She was dragging him along behind her now as she looked around. "This is an old house," she said, smiling. "It looks nice, though."

"Let's go outside and see where this nice old house is," the Doctor suggested.

Clara started forward, and her foot went right through the floor. She sighed in annoyance and tried to pull her foot out as best she could, but the Doctor had to help.

"Watch your step," he said.

She made a face at him. "You never take me where you say you're going to take me."

"Yeah, but the TARDIS always takes us where we need to go. She made me that promise."

Clara rolled her eyes. She didn't yet believe the Doctor when he said that the TARDIS was alive.

"Let's get out into the sunlight, shall we?" he asked. There were a few windows, and it looked like the outside was pretty sunny, but the curtains blocked a lot of it, and when Clara tried one of the windows, they seemed to be rusted shut.

The wind blew through the house, and the sound was so eerie that even the Doctor could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up.

"Let's go somewhere else," Clara suggested.

"What, and never know why the TARDIS brought us here?" the Doctor asked.

She pouted at him, and he gave her a look. She was getting pretty good at the silent communication thing.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But if we get attacked by something really awful before I have the chance to get a nice tan, you are in big trouble."

"I'll make it up to you. What about ice cream?"

"You'll have to do better than that," she said, but she was smiling.

"Ice cream and a leisure hive with a massage parlor and swimming pools?"

"Better," she laughed.

They explored the house a little further before they found a door. It didn't seem to want to open.

"Are we stuck in a creepy old house in the middle of nowhere?" Clara asked accusingly.

"Of course we are."

"You're loving this, aren't you?"

He grinned at her in answer.

Clara sighed. "Maybe we can break a window and climb out the side," she said.

Just then, they heard a crunching sound, a lot like the sound Clara's foot made when she stepped through the floor earlier. Clara turned to the Doctor with her eyebrows raised. "We're not alone," the Doctor noted.

And then the flow of swear words drifted down along with a hearty laugh that was all too familiar.

Clara spun around faster than the Doctor could duck and smacked him. Hard.

...

A/N: Y'all, I am so ridiculously excited about this. I've been excited about Clara's side of the Winchester story for forever now.