IF YOU READ THAT LAST CHAPTER I AM SO SORRY.
THERE AREN'T ENOUGH WORDS TO EXPRESS THAT.
I'M JUST GOING TO CRAWL INTO A HOLE OF PITY BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY UPDATED WITH THE WRONG CHAPTER
I'M SORRY TO ALL OF THOSE WHO MAY HAVE BEEN CONFUSED.
IT WAS 3 IN THE MORNING AND I MUST'VE FORGOTTEN.
SORRY.
The Doctor prattled around the Tardis, fiddling with switches. He needed a change. Change of setting. He'd already renovated the Tardis. All of that had to go. Again, he considered deleting their room. The room he'd made for the Ponds. He'd already moved the old Gallifreyan cradle, tucked away all of little Amelia's things. They sat in one of the Tardis' many rooms. Safe. They were safe with all of the other little mementos that he'd hidden out of reach. It'd taken him twenty years to get this far. But that's the thing with being a time lord. It takes recovery that much longer, the memory of them, the memory of everything was just so fresh. Human minds were like a sieve, they forgot so easily. But the Doctor could not. He'd seen too many deaths, lost too many people. The Ponds were enough.
"I don't see why you didn't want the bunk beds," He muttered. "They were cool. I love bunk beds. The man, who invented bunk beds was a genius! Two for one in the same space, and a ladder, isn't that just great?! –" He spun in a little circle, gesturing to the air – to find that he'd done it again. He'd started speaking to them as if they were there. It was an absurd force of habit. He placed his hands in the pockets of his tweed jacket, unsure of what to do, where to go. He got to this point sometimes, where he felt he could almost leave this winter, the harsh Victorian era which he'd confined himself to, where he could be a Scrooge, with Strax, Vastra and Jenny calling whenever they found a potential problem. They were good at keeping people away for him. They'd often try, but he'd always say no. None of that was any fun anymore. As Rory had often said, he always made people a danger to themselves. How often was it that someone lived when they'd travelled with him? Or didn't forget him? Or was trapped somewhere he could never see them again?
If he'd have let them go… But they'd been his Ponds. His family. He jerked a lever more than necessary, hearing the protest of the Tardis. "I'm sorry old girl. I didn't mean it I promise." The Doctor crooned, flicking more switches. A spark blew. The Tardis shrieked, as the Doctor was thrown backwards, the Tardis rumbled. "I must've blown the oscillators!" The Doctor grabbed the rail for support, as the Tardis sparked, crawling towards the control centre. The Tardis phone began to ring. The Doctor hastily grabbed it, yelling, "WHAT IS IT?!" More circuits fizzed around him, and the Doctor struggled to maintain control of the Tardis using only one hand. He scrambled for the stabilizer. For goodness sake, it was hard enough controlling a Tardis without the help of five other Time Lords but this was ridiculous. There was what seemed to be a mumbled reply. "I'M BUSY!" The Doctor screamed, tugging on the cord. He pushed a few more buttons, sighing as the Tardis began to breathe more steadily. He stroked the centre tenderly, as if comforting her. "Sorry, exploding Tardis. Life or death situation, could you repeat that please? Look if this is Strax, I'd rather you'd call later. I'm very busy – renovation and all that. It takes time you know."
The person speaking paused, somewhat flustered. He was evidently caught unaware by the Doctor's erratic behaviour."I'm Sam Winchester, I guess we're wondering if you can help us –"
"Help? Right. Help. The thing is I don't help anymore. It gets too messy. What did you say was your name?"
"Sam Winchester, look Doctor –"
"Oh! Sam Winchester!" The Doctor paused, with an involuntary grin. Historical characters always made him excited. He soon managed to crush the emotions down, maintaining his sobriety. He was retired. "The end of the world, apocalypse Sam, or is this a different era? It's hard to tell with the Winchesters…" He paused. "You probably need to specify."
The voice sighed. "Apocalypse. Look Doctor –"
"Can I tell you something Sam?" The Doctor interrupted. "I'm retired. I don't do that sort of thing anymore. It all gets to be very depressing."
"I can relate."
Understandably. He was pretty desperate at this point in time.
"Doctor, I know what it's like to lose someone."
"Yes, I suppose you do." The Doctor said quietly, leaning against the Tardis. "But that doesn't change anything."
"It's the end of the world Doctor!" Sam yelled. "You should know that!"
"It always is somewhere." The Doctor swallowed, twirling the cord. Yes. It always is somewhere. There was a scuffle on the phone and some irritable grunts. It sounded like an argument. The Doctor assumed it was Dean, about to fire some persuasive insults. He'd read it enough times in the novels. Chuck was a good writer, had kept him on his toes. He considered hanging up. But he didn't. The Doctor was too interested, too invested for his own good. He felt sorry for them.
But even if the Doctor wanted to he couldn't meddle. The Winchester's timeline was far too tricky to meddle with. There were too many fixed points; it was a vestige of paradoxes waiting to happen. The Doctor withdrew the phone from his ear, frowning as he caught all the snippets of dialogue. He didn't realise that Team Free Will could be quite so disorganized.
"DAMMIT, GIVE ME THE PHONE –"
"Hey!"
"Look let's be reasonable about this perhaps I should talk to him, I may be able to reason with him."
"You can barely see straight Cas."
A commanding voice captured the Doctor's attention.
"The Ponds."
The Doctor hung up. His mind was reeling with the suddenness of it. He wasn't expecting –
The Ponds. Sherlock. He was the only one to figure out his one word test. The man was certainly becoming quite a bother. He had no idea how he could've been so unprepared for such an attack. Sherlock had contacted him on behalf of Torchwood and Sarah Jane Smith before. He thought he'd made it quite clear. He thought he'd made it clear to them all: he was done.