Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Doctor Who crossover fic: The Last (7/7)
Title: The Last (7/7)
Rating: PG
Characters: Giles, Ten
Timeline: Post-"Last of the Time Lords" for Doctor Who and pre-season eight for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Spoilers for season eight.
Summary: With demons threatening the safety of the planet, the Doctor turns to the one person he knows who can help: Rupert Giles. Can the two of them save the day without losing their heads?
Disclaimer: You know the drill. BBC. Joss Whedon.
A/N: Thanks again to quean_of_swords for the awesome beta.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six.
There was a slight scraping sound as the Doctor’s trainers left the edge of the roof. For a second, it seemed like he hung motionless in the air. Then he was leaping across the chasm between the two warehouses, his arms out-stretched in a vain attempt to cover more distance.
The Doctor didn’t need to land neatly on the other roof; he just needed to reach the edge and then pull himself up. But as Giles watched, it seemed like the Doctor might fall short of that goal.
He could survive the fall, the Doctor said. But then what? Would Giles finally see how the Doctor managed to change faces?
The screech of metal echoed across the night followed by a pained gasp. Giles hurried to the edge of the roof and he anxiously glanced down. He frowned. There was no body dressed in brown sprawled across the ground. Impossibly, his gaze drifted up.
The Doctor hung from a drain pipe running around the outside of the other warehouse. The drain pipe sagged slightly but it was holding the Doctor’s weight. His feet scraped against the side of the warehouse as he tried to find a good purchase so he could haul himself onto the roof. After a few failed attempts, his trainers found their grip and the Doctor was able to reach up and grab onto the edge of the roof. He flopped over onto the other side, landing in a tumble of arms and legs.
“Doctor?” Giles grew concerned when the man didn’t rise.
“I’m never doing that again.” With a groan, the Doctor stumbled to his feet. He cradled his right arm close to his side but it looked like a minor injury. He had no troubles walking over to the TARDIS and soon enough he had disappeared inside the time machine. With its usual unearthly howl and gust of wind, the TARDIS faded from the warehouse rooftop.
It didn’t dawn on Giles until a moment later, but he had no idea what the Doctor’s plan was. He suddenly felt rather ridiculous standing on top of a warehouse, clutching the Doctor’s coat. If the Doctor wasn’t allowed to change history, as he had stated on numerous occasions, then how was the TARDIS supposed to help? He glanced back warily at the hatch in the roof. Any moment now he expected a Mind Eater to burst forth and toss him over the side of the building.
He wandered away from the hatch, keeping an ear open for the sound of the TARDIS. Years of grime covered the skylights, but Giles was still able to peer through them. The worker Mind Eaters went about stoking the fires in the furnaces and the circle of elder Mind Eaters had returned to their meditations. They had no idea their prisoners had escaped, it seemed. At least they had that small concession in their favour.
The wind howled across the rooftop, eliciting a shiver from Giles.
No, it wasn’t the wind…
He could hear the TARDIS, but where was it? Giles scanned the rooftop, looking for a hint of the ship’s ghostly image as it faded back into existence. It was as he was walking past one of the skylights that it all fell into place.
Down in the warehouse below, he spotted the TARDIS, parked defiantly in the middle of the room. The Mind Eaters instantly took notice as well and they all stopped what they were doing to stare at the Doctor’s ship. Giles expected the doors to open and for the Doctor to come bounding out, an alien device in hand or something of the sort that would stop the demons. Or for a group of Slayers to exit the ship, but that seemed less likely. Instead, the light atop the blue box began to glow. It grew brighter and brighter until it seemed like the illumination inside couldn’t be contained.
Then the light exploded upwards and for a moment Giles thought it might shatter the glass of the skylight. Before he could move out of the way or shield himself, the light burst apart, blanketing the entire warehouse in a blinding white.
Giles blinked a few times before he realized it was the skylight that was covered in white. He reached out to see if he could wipe it away and he found the glass was cold to the touch. The skylight was covered in frost.
The Doctor had conjured a snowstorm.
His long strides carried him across the roof back to the access hatch and all the while he still carried the Doctor’s coat. As he climbed the stairs down, Giles tried to remember the winter of ’63. He had been six at the time, still too young to realize what destiny had in store for him. Vague memories of playing in large mounds of snow came back to him. His grandmother had also visited for the holidays now that he thought about it. Had she seem agitated or happier than usual? It was strange to think the Doctor might have been around at that time but it wasn’t hard to believe he had a hand in creating one of the worse winter storms in the history of the United Kingdom.
Down in the warehouse, Giles noticed his breath instantly turned to vapour, as it had done back in his hotel room in Russia. The corridor seemed darker and he realized the flames in the furnaces had gone out. He ran past the empty offices and back into the main room of the warehouse.
Everything was white.
A thick layer of frost covered every surface, like a freezing fog had rolled through the warehouse. The ice crystals crunched underfoot like fresh snow as Giles made his way to the centre of the room where the TARDIS stood. The blue box seemed bluer and brighter than usual but it was probably because it was the only bit of colour in a sea of whiteness.
Giles’ foot came down on a soft lump and he took a surprised step back when the lump twitched. His footprint revealed a swatch of old leather and he quickly realized the lump was a Mind Eater. He threw his gaze around the warehouse. Lumps of snow were scattered all over the floor and he was sure if he had taken the time to count them, they would have numbered thirty.
The Doctor appeared from behind the TARDIS, wearing a pair of tortoise shell glasses. The thick frames matched his thick sideburns and Giles was sure if Buffy had been around she would have called the Doctor a “geek”. The man squatted down to examine the lump nearest him, brushing aside the thick frost like he was at an archaeological dig. His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he became absorbed in the task. Each Doctor certainly had his own set of quirks and habits.
Giles made his way over, weaving around the fallen Mind Eaters. “How did you do that?” he asked the Doctor the moment he was within earshot.
“I can control the weather now.” The Doctor rose to his feet. He spied his coat in Giles’ hands and took it back from him.
Giles, as usual, couldn’t tell if the Doctor was serious or just being facetious. “Doctor-”
“Atmospheric excitation.” He slipped the coat over his lean frame. “Best not to do it indoors but I can always make an exception.”
“The Mind Eaters. Are they…”
“Dead? Nah, they’re just in shock from the sudden temperature change. They’re like reptiles here on Earth. Mind Eaters thrive in the heat but they’re useless in the cold.”
The Mind Eater at their feet, the Mind Eater leader, Giles could see, gave a feeble moan. “See, docile as a newborn kitten.”
In one, swift blow the Doctor had neutralized the Mind Eaters. Giles had to begrudgingly admit it was an impressive feat. If he had called in a squad of Slayers the likelihood of causalities would have been high. “Unless you plan to keep the Mind Eaters frozen forever, this still doesn’t solve our problem.”
The Doctor frowned. “I have a plan. Didn’t you know?”
“No,” said Giles, speaking slowly, “which is why I am asking.”
“I’m sure I mentioned it…” muttered the Doctor. He shrugged and then he slapped Giles on the shoulder. “We load every Mind Eater back onto their ship. I know of a volcanic planet millions of miles from here, perfect for any heat loving demon.”
“What ship are you talking about?” All Giles had seen so far was the warehouse.
“The one outside, hovering over the warehouse. It’s cloaked. It’s easy to miss.” The Doctor started to walk off. “There should be a teleport system on board. I don’t fancy trying to lift a three hundred pound demon.”
Giles sighed. Why did brilliance always go hand in hand with absentmindedness? He lengthened his stride to catch up with the Doctor. “That’s not a permanent solution. The Mind Eaters have their… spaceship.” Giles spoke the word reluctantly. “There’s nothing preventing them from returning to Earth.”
The Doctor’s playful façade dropped as he glanced sideways at Giles. “I’ll program the ship’s computer to dump the entire fuel supply before the ship touches down. The ship can still run on solar batteries but it’ll never have enough power to achieve escape velocity.”
Permanent exile. It was cruel but humane. But did monsters deserve humane?
Giles followed the Doctor up to the roof. He looked up at the night sky, with its dull smattering of stars, but he saw no sign of the Mind Eaters’ ship.
The Doctor pointed a slender silver rod with a blue light at its tip up at the sky. A low buzzing sounded from the device. The sonic screwdriver. It had gone through a re-design since Giles saw it last.
Nothing happened.
“You changed the frequency,” the Doctor muttered. He twisted the middle section of the sonic screwdriver and then tried again. The device made no audible sound, but off in the distance, dogs began to bark.
Something clanged above them. Giles expected the ship to appear but instead, a ramp dropped down from the sky. As it lowered, he caught a glimpse of the interior of the ship and it was bizarre to see the inside of something while the outside remained invisible. Soon enough, the ramp touched down on the roof. To a passer-by, it looked like a piece of metal was leading into nowhere.
The Doctor went up the ramp and from a certain angle it looked like he was walking on nothing but air. “Are you coming?” he asked Giles.
“I’ll stay down here, thank you.” Entering one spaceship was enough for him for one night.
The trip back to Russia took less than a second, or so it seemed inside the TARDIS. The Doctor offered to drop Giles off at his flat in London, but he declined. He wouldn’t want the hotel staff to think he had left without settling his bill.
He found everything was as he had left it when he exited the time machine. He didn’t expect anything to change while he was gone, but he could never be too sure when the Doctor was around. Just to be certain the Doctor hadn’t returned him to the wrong time, Giles opened the drawer in the desk where he had left his diary. He held back a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar leather bound book. Flipping through the pages, he went to the last entry and thankfully, it was dated the right day, month, and year.
“An interesting life you’ve been leading lately.” The Doctor leaned casually against the TARDIS. “Fyarls in the New York City sewer system?”
Giles dropped his diary onto the desk and he crossed his arms over his chest. “How much did you read?”
The Doctor’s body language didn’t change but there was no amusement in his expression. “Enough. And I caught a glimpse or two when I was driving out the Mind Eater influence in your head.”
Silence weighed heavily in the room as they regarded each other. It would have been simple enough to tell the Doctor to leave, but Giles found he didn’t want him to. He had kept this quest secret for so long; he was desperate to tell someone, even if the response was one of anger or loathing.
“I can’t ignore it, even if it’s just a Watcher’s legend.”
“So you’re willing to kill a young woman to prevent the end of the world.”
Giles didn’t flinch away from the Doctor’s piercing gaze. It sounded even less kind when spoken aloud, but it didn’t make him change his mind. “Yes.”
The Doctor moved away from the TARDIS, his movements slow, like he was finally acting like the old man that he was within. “It’s a daunting task, isn’t it? You think you’re incapable of such an act but it’s surprising how easily it comes to you.” He stopped on the other side of the desk. “It’s not easy being the last.”
The Doctor’s words held so much weight Giles was surprised the man could stand tall. “You’re not speaking in hypotheticals.”
“My people are gone, wiped out like your Council. I can’t ignore the legends they left behind either.”
To be the last member of a society was one thing. Giles was still surrounded by humans everywhere he went. To be the last member of a race was to be truly alone. “Time chose the wrong survivors.” The misfit and the exile. They made quite a pair.
“I meant it. You’re a good Watcher, Rupert, but you don’t deserve to shoulder all this responsibility. You should be enjoying life, not scurrying across the globe, trying to decide whose life to end. But we don’t get to choose our lives sometimes.”
“You’re not going to stop me.”
“Were you hoping I would?”
Giles nearly said yes. He didn’t want this role, but it was his to bear whether he liked it or not. He was sure the Doctor understood that better than anyone else. “What about you, Doctor? This is the first time I’ve seen you travel alone.”
The Doctor didn’t reply. His face was like stone it was so unreadable. He headed back to the TARDIS, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slightly hunched. In the doorway of the time machine he paused and he turned back around. “There’s always another way. Keep that in mind, Rupert Giles.”
“It’s safe to assume you’ll appear again when I least expect it?”
A small grin lifted the gloom hanging over the Doctor. “Oh, definitely. You still need to visit another planet.” The Time Lord stepped into the TARDIS before Giles could protest.
A gust of wind kicked up as the blue box faded out of sight. When it was gone completely, Giles sat down at his desk and he opened up his diary to a fresh page. He picked up his pen and he started to write.
* * *
Forty-two years (and three regenerations) earlier…
Christmas. It was the best Human holiday, in the Doctor’s opinion. Peace on Earth and good will to men; these were ideals that every individual across the planet should have embraced year round.
He took a deep breath. He could smell a cold front approaching, but nothing major. Shame. Christmas was always better with a little snow.
“Ace.” The Doctor looked back but his young companion was nowhere to be seen. Where was that girl? She was always wandering off. He stopped where he was, allowing the last minute Christmas shoppers to hurry around him.
“Move it, you clot!”
The Doctor spun around, but it was too late. A heavy set man in a dark trench coat collided with him, knocking him right off his feet. The Doctor’s hat flew off his head and he lost his grip on his umbrella. The man kept running and he didn’t even look back to see if the Doctor was all right.
“How rude,” the Doctor muttered. His hip was throbbing, from where it had struck the pavement, but the rest of him was unscathed. He picked up his umbrella but his straw hat was missing.
“Lord, they’ve given me idiots.”
The Doctor looked up and he was met with the sight of an older woman, perhaps in her sixties. She held his hat in one hand and she offered her free hand to the Doctor.
Her hair was grey, but there were still streaks of ginger. Her horn-rimmed glasses magnified her vivid green eyes, making her look a bit like an owl. The woman was dressed for the cold weather but she wasn’t over bundled.
The Doctor took her offering of a helping hand and, despite her age, she pulled him to his feet. “Thank you.” He took back his hat, brushing off some dirt on the brim before placing it on his head. “Looking for that last minute gift?”
“If only I had time for such mundane matters. If you’ll excuse me, my colleague and I have an urgent matter to attend to.” The woman stepped around him, intent on following the heavy set man.
“Chasing vampires?”
She stopped dead in her tracks. When she turned around, she eyed the Doctor suspiciously. “Are you certain you didn’t hit your head, Mr…?”
“In my experience, if someone’s running blindly down the street, and they don’t have time for Christmas, that means one of two things. They’re a Watcher or they’re a member of UNIT. Since UNIT doesn’t exist yet, the former seems more likely. Or do you celebrate Chanukah?”
The woman’s expression didn’t change. “If you expect me to believe that-”
“You don’t have to. You can walk away now and forget about the strange man you met. But if you wanted to do that, you would have already. Vampires? Or is it demons? I have experience with both.”
The woman thought this over for a moment. Then her suspicion gave way to her curiosity. “Demons. And if we remain here any longer, my colleague will surely perish, though the blasted man probably deserves it.”
“Of course.” They started down the street as a healthy pace. “I’ve misplaced a friend of mine as well. You haven’t happened to have seen a girl with a large rucksack and the name ‘Ace’ sewn onto her jacket, Ms…?”
“Mrs. Edna Giles.”
The Doctor could barely contain his smile.
Rating: PG
Characters: Giles, Ten
Timeline: Post-"Last of the Time Lords" for Doctor Who and pre-season eight for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Spoilers for season eight.
Summary: With demons threatening the safety of the planet, the Doctor turns to the one person he knows who can help: Rupert Giles. Can the two of them save the day without losing their heads?
Disclaimer: You know the drill. BBC. Joss Whedon.
A/N: Thanks again to quean_of_swords for the awesome beta.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six.
There was a slight scraping sound as the Doctor’s trainers left the edge of the roof. For a second, it seemed like he hung motionless in the air. Then he was leaping across the chasm between the two warehouses, his arms out-stretched in a vain attempt to cover more distance.
The Doctor didn’t need to land neatly on the other roof; he just needed to reach the edge and then pull himself up. But as Giles watched, it seemed like the Doctor might fall short of that goal.
He could survive the fall, the Doctor said. But then what? Would Giles finally see how the Doctor managed to change faces?
The screech of metal echoed across the night followed by a pained gasp. Giles hurried to the edge of the roof and he anxiously glanced down. He frowned. There was no body dressed in brown sprawled across the ground. Impossibly, his gaze drifted up.
The Doctor hung from a drain pipe running around the outside of the other warehouse. The drain pipe sagged slightly but it was holding the Doctor’s weight. His feet scraped against the side of the warehouse as he tried to find a good purchase so he could haul himself onto the roof. After a few failed attempts, his trainers found their grip and the Doctor was able to reach up and grab onto the edge of the roof. He flopped over onto the other side, landing in a tumble of arms and legs.
“Doctor?” Giles grew concerned when the man didn’t rise.
“I’m never doing that again.” With a groan, the Doctor stumbled to his feet. He cradled his right arm close to his side but it looked like a minor injury. He had no troubles walking over to the TARDIS and soon enough he had disappeared inside the time machine. With its usual unearthly howl and gust of wind, the TARDIS faded from the warehouse rooftop.
It didn’t dawn on Giles until a moment later, but he had no idea what the Doctor’s plan was. He suddenly felt rather ridiculous standing on top of a warehouse, clutching the Doctor’s coat. If the Doctor wasn’t allowed to change history, as he had stated on numerous occasions, then how was the TARDIS supposed to help? He glanced back warily at the hatch in the roof. Any moment now he expected a Mind Eater to burst forth and toss him over the side of the building.
He wandered away from the hatch, keeping an ear open for the sound of the TARDIS. Years of grime covered the skylights, but Giles was still able to peer through them. The worker Mind Eaters went about stoking the fires in the furnaces and the circle of elder Mind Eaters had returned to their meditations. They had no idea their prisoners had escaped, it seemed. At least they had that small concession in their favour.
The wind howled across the rooftop, eliciting a shiver from Giles.
No, it wasn’t the wind…
He could hear the TARDIS, but where was it? Giles scanned the rooftop, looking for a hint of the ship’s ghostly image as it faded back into existence. It was as he was walking past one of the skylights that it all fell into place.
Down in the warehouse below, he spotted the TARDIS, parked defiantly in the middle of the room. The Mind Eaters instantly took notice as well and they all stopped what they were doing to stare at the Doctor’s ship. Giles expected the doors to open and for the Doctor to come bounding out, an alien device in hand or something of the sort that would stop the demons. Or for a group of Slayers to exit the ship, but that seemed less likely. Instead, the light atop the blue box began to glow. It grew brighter and brighter until it seemed like the illumination inside couldn’t be contained.
Then the light exploded upwards and for a moment Giles thought it might shatter the glass of the skylight. Before he could move out of the way or shield himself, the light burst apart, blanketing the entire warehouse in a blinding white.
Giles blinked a few times before he realized it was the skylight that was covered in white. He reached out to see if he could wipe it away and he found the glass was cold to the touch. The skylight was covered in frost.
The Doctor had conjured a snowstorm.
His long strides carried him across the roof back to the access hatch and all the while he still carried the Doctor’s coat. As he climbed the stairs down, Giles tried to remember the winter of ’63. He had been six at the time, still too young to realize what destiny had in store for him. Vague memories of playing in large mounds of snow came back to him. His grandmother had also visited for the holidays now that he thought about it. Had she seem agitated or happier than usual? It was strange to think the Doctor might have been around at that time but it wasn’t hard to believe he had a hand in creating one of the worse winter storms in the history of the United Kingdom.
Down in the warehouse, Giles noticed his breath instantly turned to vapour, as it had done back in his hotel room in Russia. The corridor seemed darker and he realized the flames in the furnaces had gone out. He ran past the empty offices and back into the main room of the warehouse.
Everything was white.
A thick layer of frost covered every surface, like a freezing fog had rolled through the warehouse. The ice crystals crunched underfoot like fresh snow as Giles made his way to the centre of the room where the TARDIS stood. The blue box seemed bluer and brighter than usual but it was probably because it was the only bit of colour in a sea of whiteness.
Giles’ foot came down on a soft lump and he took a surprised step back when the lump twitched. His footprint revealed a swatch of old leather and he quickly realized the lump was a Mind Eater. He threw his gaze around the warehouse. Lumps of snow were scattered all over the floor and he was sure if he had taken the time to count them, they would have numbered thirty.
The Doctor appeared from behind the TARDIS, wearing a pair of tortoise shell glasses. The thick frames matched his thick sideburns and Giles was sure if Buffy had been around she would have called the Doctor a “geek”. The man squatted down to examine the lump nearest him, brushing aside the thick frost like he was at an archaeological dig. His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he became absorbed in the task. Each Doctor certainly had his own set of quirks and habits.
Giles made his way over, weaving around the fallen Mind Eaters. “How did you do that?” he asked the Doctor the moment he was within earshot.
“I can control the weather now.” The Doctor rose to his feet. He spied his coat in Giles’ hands and took it back from him.
Giles, as usual, couldn’t tell if the Doctor was serious or just being facetious. “Doctor-”
“Atmospheric excitation.” He slipped the coat over his lean frame. “Best not to do it indoors but I can always make an exception.”
“The Mind Eaters. Are they…”
“Dead? Nah, they’re just in shock from the sudden temperature change. They’re like reptiles here on Earth. Mind Eaters thrive in the heat but they’re useless in the cold.”
The Mind Eater at their feet, the Mind Eater leader, Giles could see, gave a feeble moan. “See, docile as a newborn kitten.”
In one, swift blow the Doctor had neutralized the Mind Eaters. Giles had to begrudgingly admit it was an impressive feat. If he had called in a squad of Slayers the likelihood of causalities would have been high. “Unless you plan to keep the Mind Eaters frozen forever, this still doesn’t solve our problem.”
The Doctor frowned. “I have a plan. Didn’t you know?”
“No,” said Giles, speaking slowly, “which is why I am asking.”
“I’m sure I mentioned it…” muttered the Doctor. He shrugged and then he slapped Giles on the shoulder. “We load every Mind Eater back onto their ship. I know of a volcanic planet millions of miles from here, perfect for any heat loving demon.”
“What ship are you talking about?” All Giles had seen so far was the warehouse.
“The one outside, hovering over the warehouse. It’s cloaked. It’s easy to miss.” The Doctor started to walk off. “There should be a teleport system on board. I don’t fancy trying to lift a three hundred pound demon.”
Giles sighed. Why did brilliance always go hand in hand with absentmindedness? He lengthened his stride to catch up with the Doctor. “That’s not a permanent solution. The Mind Eaters have their… spaceship.” Giles spoke the word reluctantly. “There’s nothing preventing them from returning to Earth.”
The Doctor’s playful façade dropped as he glanced sideways at Giles. “I’ll program the ship’s computer to dump the entire fuel supply before the ship touches down. The ship can still run on solar batteries but it’ll never have enough power to achieve escape velocity.”
Permanent exile. It was cruel but humane. But did monsters deserve humane?
Giles followed the Doctor up to the roof. He looked up at the night sky, with its dull smattering of stars, but he saw no sign of the Mind Eaters’ ship.
The Doctor pointed a slender silver rod with a blue light at its tip up at the sky. A low buzzing sounded from the device. The sonic screwdriver. It had gone through a re-design since Giles saw it last.
Nothing happened.
“You changed the frequency,” the Doctor muttered. He twisted the middle section of the sonic screwdriver and then tried again. The device made no audible sound, but off in the distance, dogs began to bark.
Something clanged above them. Giles expected the ship to appear but instead, a ramp dropped down from the sky. As it lowered, he caught a glimpse of the interior of the ship and it was bizarre to see the inside of something while the outside remained invisible. Soon enough, the ramp touched down on the roof. To a passer-by, it looked like a piece of metal was leading into nowhere.
The Doctor went up the ramp and from a certain angle it looked like he was walking on nothing but air. “Are you coming?” he asked Giles.
“I’ll stay down here, thank you.” Entering one spaceship was enough for him for one night.
The trip back to Russia took less than a second, or so it seemed inside the TARDIS. The Doctor offered to drop Giles off at his flat in London, but he declined. He wouldn’t want the hotel staff to think he had left without settling his bill.
He found everything was as he had left it when he exited the time machine. He didn’t expect anything to change while he was gone, but he could never be too sure when the Doctor was around. Just to be certain the Doctor hadn’t returned him to the wrong time, Giles opened the drawer in the desk where he had left his diary. He held back a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar leather bound book. Flipping through the pages, he went to the last entry and thankfully, it was dated the right day, month, and year.
“An interesting life you’ve been leading lately.” The Doctor leaned casually against the TARDIS. “Fyarls in the New York City sewer system?”
Giles dropped his diary onto the desk and he crossed his arms over his chest. “How much did you read?”
The Doctor’s body language didn’t change but there was no amusement in his expression. “Enough. And I caught a glimpse or two when I was driving out the Mind Eater influence in your head.”
Silence weighed heavily in the room as they regarded each other. It would have been simple enough to tell the Doctor to leave, but Giles found he didn’t want him to. He had kept this quest secret for so long; he was desperate to tell someone, even if the response was one of anger or loathing.
“I can’t ignore it, even if it’s just a Watcher’s legend.”
“So you’re willing to kill a young woman to prevent the end of the world.”
Giles didn’t flinch away from the Doctor’s piercing gaze. It sounded even less kind when spoken aloud, but it didn’t make him change his mind. “Yes.”
The Doctor moved away from the TARDIS, his movements slow, like he was finally acting like the old man that he was within. “It’s a daunting task, isn’t it? You think you’re incapable of such an act but it’s surprising how easily it comes to you.” He stopped on the other side of the desk. “It’s not easy being the last.”
The Doctor’s words held so much weight Giles was surprised the man could stand tall. “You’re not speaking in hypotheticals.”
“My people are gone, wiped out like your Council. I can’t ignore the legends they left behind either.”
To be the last member of a society was one thing. Giles was still surrounded by humans everywhere he went. To be the last member of a race was to be truly alone. “Time chose the wrong survivors.” The misfit and the exile. They made quite a pair.
“I meant it. You’re a good Watcher, Rupert, but you don’t deserve to shoulder all this responsibility. You should be enjoying life, not scurrying across the globe, trying to decide whose life to end. But we don’t get to choose our lives sometimes.”
“You’re not going to stop me.”
“Were you hoping I would?”
Giles nearly said yes. He didn’t want this role, but it was his to bear whether he liked it or not. He was sure the Doctor understood that better than anyone else. “What about you, Doctor? This is the first time I’ve seen you travel alone.”
The Doctor didn’t reply. His face was like stone it was so unreadable. He headed back to the TARDIS, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slightly hunched. In the doorway of the time machine he paused and he turned back around. “There’s always another way. Keep that in mind, Rupert Giles.”
“It’s safe to assume you’ll appear again when I least expect it?”
A small grin lifted the gloom hanging over the Doctor. “Oh, definitely. You still need to visit another planet.” The Time Lord stepped into the TARDIS before Giles could protest.
A gust of wind kicked up as the blue box faded out of sight. When it was gone completely, Giles sat down at his desk and he opened up his diary to a fresh page. He picked up his pen and he started to write.
* * *
Forty-two years (and three regenerations) earlier…
Christmas. It was the best Human holiday, in the Doctor’s opinion. Peace on Earth and good will to men; these were ideals that every individual across the planet should have embraced year round.
He took a deep breath. He could smell a cold front approaching, but nothing major. Shame. Christmas was always better with a little snow.
“Ace.” The Doctor looked back but his young companion was nowhere to be seen. Where was that girl? She was always wandering off. He stopped where he was, allowing the last minute Christmas shoppers to hurry around him.
“Move it, you clot!”
The Doctor spun around, but it was too late. A heavy set man in a dark trench coat collided with him, knocking him right off his feet. The Doctor’s hat flew off his head and he lost his grip on his umbrella. The man kept running and he didn’t even look back to see if the Doctor was all right.
“How rude,” the Doctor muttered. His hip was throbbing, from where it had struck the pavement, but the rest of him was unscathed. He picked up his umbrella but his straw hat was missing.
“Lord, they’ve given me idiots.”
The Doctor looked up and he was met with the sight of an older woman, perhaps in her sixties. She held his hat in one hand and she offered her free hand to the Doctor.
Her hair was grey, but there were still streaks of ginger. Her horn-rimmed glasses magnified her vivid green eyes, making her look a bit like an owl. The woman was dressed for the cold weather but she wasn’t over bundled.
The Doctor took her offering of a helping hand and, despite her age, she pulled him to his feet. “Thank you.” He took back his hat, brushing off some dirt on the brim before placing it on his head. “Looking for that last minute gift?”
“If only I had time for such mundane matters. If you’ll excuse me, my colleague and I have an urgent matter to attend to.” The woman stepped around him, intent on following the heavy set man.
“Chasing vampires?”
She stopped dead in her tracks. When she turned around, she eyed the Doctor suspiciously. “Are you certain you didn’t hit your head, Mr…?”
“In my experience, if someone’s running blindly down the street, and they don’t have time for Christmas, that means one of two things. They’re a Watcher or they’re a member of UNIT. Since UNIT doesn’t exist yet, the former seems more likely. Or do you celebrate Chanukah?”
The woman’s expression didn’t change. “If you expect me to believe that-”
“You don’t have to. You can walk away now and forget about the strange man you met. But if you wanted to do that, you would have already. Vampires? Or is it demons? I have experience with both.”
The woman thought this over for a moment. Then her suspicion gave way to her curiosity. “Demons. And if we remain here any longer, my colleague will surely perish, though the blasted man probably deserves it.”
“Of course.” They started down the street as a healthy pace. “I’ve misplaced a friend of mine as well. You haven’t happened to have seen a girl with a large rucksack and the name ‘Ace’ sewn onto her jacket, Ms…?”
“Mrs. Edna Giles.”
The Doctor could barely contain his smile.