Okay, this is the warning you're getting. This is the last chapter. After this, I'll probably kick off another story, so… Unimportant. This story is over, that's all you need to know. Well, thanks again for all your reviews and things, and take this thanks in the form of a chapter. Hurray, yeah?

"I'm sorry, did you just… critique our retreating skills?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. Sam didn't look the least bit confused, he was too bust chatting with Amy about the events of the night.

"Oh, no, Dean, yours was spectacular, if I do say so myself, and I do." The Doctor grinned at him, but that smile was wiped off his face when he looked back to John. "Really though, you're welcome. Thanks, also, for running away without making sure we were following and not, I don't know, eaten by Revenants." He had a particular gleam to his eye, it was nearly cruel. Amy smacked his shoulder lightly, and he turned to look at her. After a minute he seemed to have calmed down.

"I was protecting my boys." John retorted, it was a little late, though. Dean rolled his eyes and walked up behind Sam. He started ruffling the boy's hair, and Sam spun around and wacked his hand away.

"Hey! Stop that!" He commanded. Dean lifted his hands in mock surrender and slung an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"So, Sammy, wasn't that just the best? You got to watch your big bro in action." He beamed in pride, until he heard the scoffing from not only his little brother, but from Amy as well.

"More like listen! Couldn't stop flapping your gums out there, could'ja?" She laughed.

"Could you two move out, whoever you are? I need to speak with my son—"

"No, I need to speak with you, John." The Doctor nodded to Amy, who took both Sam and Dean out of the room and back to the parking lot. Once the door was closed, they both pressed their ears against it and listened intently, Amy joining them.

.

"So, John, sit down. Explain to me, how exactly you're raising your children." The Doctor was watching him closely, every little detail was studied. John narrowed his eyes and balled his hands into fists.

"Listen here," He spat with malice, having taken this talk from Bobby far too many times for his liking already, "I raise my kids the best I can, and until you have some of your own and realize just how fucked up life is for them, then you can't judge me!" His eyes the pits of Hell, John was about ready to bundle Sam and Dean into the car and leave at that exact moment. Who the fuck was this guy, telling him what to do with his kids? And another hunter! He should understand what it had to be like!

"Answer me this…" The Doctor licked his lips nervously. "Is it necessary, that they grow up like this?" He looked up at John from where his head was bowed next to him.

John was taken aback for a moment, and so were the boys listening at the door. It was a while before he could form proper words, at which time he answered, simply, "Yes."

The Doctor nodded, though disappointed. Yes, he guessed it was necessary, the way Sam talked about them, and their whole community. "Alright." He turned away and strode toward the door, pulling it open. He was hardly surprised to see the three big children nearly toppling over each other into the room—unexpected door opening and all. He nodded to Amy, who patted Sam on the shoulder before following him across the parking lot to where, they now noticed, a blue police box sat.

"Hey. Hey wait!" Sam shouted after them, The Doctor stopping halfway into the box to peek back out at him. "Where are you going now?"

"That's apparently up to this old girl." He patted the doorframe of the TARDIS, smiling fondly. Amy huffed some agitated words from inside, before noticing he wasn't talking about her.

"Well, uh, hope to see you again!" Sam bid farewell with a bright smile and a wave, Dean standing behind him looking just slightly cautious of the man and his companion.

"You too, Sammy, you too!" And with that, The Doctor closed the TARDIS' door and headed up the steps to the console.

And that concludes our journey, folks.

I'm crying manly tears.

Manly tears. Don't you forget it.