Author's Notes: This is what happens when you combine a caffeinated muse with a Mythology textbook lying around. I apologize in advance. ;)

019. Mythology
or 'Beware of Dog (for good reason)'
Donna, Ten

In all of her time traveling with the Doctor – through time and space and back again, never had she seen him run quite like . . . well, like that. That being like one Time Lord windmill meeting Will E. Coyote dust cloud, punctuated by a "we have to leave now!" yelp/scream that was a bit too high pitched for her not to laugh at.

And well . . . she had warned him about the sign.

It served him right for ignoring her!

Although, if she knew that the one thing that the Doctor was irrationally afraid off was man's-best-friend, then she would have kept her mouth shut anyway. The comedic material she had just gathered was enough to get her through the rather murderous glare the Doctor was leveling at her as he bandaged the dog bite on his right arm.

She offered to help, and was met by a rather childish, "I can handle it myself."

So, here she was now - trying not to laugh as the sullen alien scrubbed a ridiculously exaggerated amount of rubbing alcohol onto the rather small wound. Donna finally rolled her eyes in annoyance when he took the gauze between his teeth in his efforts to wrap the wound. "Oh, honestly. It isn't that bad!"

"Oh yes, it is! That . . . that monster could have had rabies, or any number of filthy diseases . . ."

"You're telling me that rabies can actually harm you?"

"Donna, that's besides the point!"

She tried sooo hard not to smile. "Um, Doctor. It was a Pomeranian. I have nieces and nephews who bite harder than that."

His glare was enough to make her squirm. Just a bit.

"Seriously, though, you're acting like you were just mauled by one of the hounds of Hell, and . . . what?"

The Doctor had mumbled something under his breath about a rather unfortunate trip to ancient Greece and a bad brush with a three headed dog, and she stopped her tirade short.

She blinked.

. . . and blinked some more.

"Three headed dog in Greece . . . you mean . . . you mean Cerberus?"

The Doctor's only reaction to her surprise was to shudder before glaring quite mulishly at her. "Because Time forbid that that bloody Hadian alien could have had a three headed goldfish as a guard rather than -"

"Cerberus?!" she interrupted quite dumbly.

At this, the Doctor finally put the rubbing alcohol down, and let out a deep sigh. "Donna, this is why you never make Greek poets angry. Bad things tend to happen afterwards."

Finally constraining her surprise to merely the widening of his eyes, Donna shook her head in sympathy and handed the bottle of rubbing alcohol back to the Doctor without another word.