The Morning After - Chapter Six
Title: The Morning After - Chapter Six (final chapter - final word count: 21,861)
Fandom: Doctor Who / Being Human (Crossover)
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/George
Rating: This Chapter - NC-17 for sexual and violent content
Spoilers: Doctor Who - Journey's End / Being Human - first two episodes of series one
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Being Human belong to the BBC, and not me. But I'll put them back in the toybox when I've finished.
Warning: Slash, lycanthrophilia (sexual attraction to/sex with a werewolf), violence, masochism, bloodplay, implied suicidal thoughts, dark themes, angst.
Author's Note: This final chapter is very dark and not for the faint-hearted! Thanks to tescohatesme, mspixieears and especially to the very kind, helpful and clever adafrog.
George leant forwards, closing his eyes as he held his face close to the Doctor's throat and sniffed, savouring the rich scent of alien pheromones; sifting through the different notes like an expert evaluating a fine wine. It was a tantalising, intoxicating blend of arousal… excitement... adrenaline… and the faintest hint of fear. He could sense the blood pumping round the Doctor's body; he could feel the twin beats of the Doctor's hearts thumping against his own chest.
The power of the wolf within him coursed through George's veins, making him feel strong and potent. The dominating mind of the animal crawled hotly over his consciousness, overriding his rational thoughts; trampling over his remaining fears and doubts, and the last traces of his humanity.
Too late now...
Chapter Six
George stared down at the Doctor lying prone on the lumpy old mattress beneath him, trapped by the weight of his body. The Time Lord's eyes were wide and unblinking; his breathing was ragged, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and around his mouth.
George bent his head and swiped the tip of his tongue across the Doctor's top lip, the sensitive muscle rasping over light stubble as he tasted the saline tang of alien perspiration, as though that might satisfy the wild craving that was threatening to overcome the last of his humanity.
But it wasn't enough to sate him. Fuck, it wasn't nearly enough.
"Door's open…" the Doctor repeated in a muttering tone. George wondered if it were another verbal confirmation of George's last chance to leave, or whether the Doctor was wondering aloud whether to use that door in order to exit the room himself.
George looked at the exit, and then back to the Doctor. He knew he should get up off the old bed and run, out of this insane alien ship and away into the dusk. But he didn't move. He didn't want to.
Wordlessly the Doctor reached inside his suit jacket and retrieved his sonic screwdriver. He pointed it at the doorway, pressed a button, and some hidden mechanism made the heavy door swing closed and lock, with an ominous metallic clunk.
"When I'm the wolf, I won't care anymore…" George warned, his voice almost pleading.
The Doctor blinked slowly, as though in a daze. "I have my sonic screwdriver. I can hold you at bay if I have to. I can leave, and then lock you in here. If… it gets too much." He glanced at his own hand clutching at the thin metallic instrument, as though to reassure himself that it meant he had one final trace of rationality floating around his fogged brain.
The Doctor stared up deeply into George's eyes. "I can't resist you, George. Not when you're like this. So close…" He took a deep shuddering breath. "I want… this. All of it. No matter what happens..." his voice trailed away.
George reached down and ran his hand roughly over the hard bulge prominent in the front of the Doctor's trousers. The Doctor closed his eyes and breathed out sharply through clenched teeth.
George leant forwards, closing his eyes as he held his face close to the Doctor's throat and sniffed, savouring the rich scent of alien pheromones; sifting through the different notes like an expert evaluating a fine wine. It was a tantalising, intoxicating blend of arousal… excitement... adrenaline… and the faintest hint of fear. He could sense the blood pumping round the Doctor's body; he could feel the twin beats of the Doctor's hearts thumping against his own chest.
The power of the wolf within him coursed through George's veins, making him feel strong and potent. The dominating mind of the animal crawled hotly over his consciousness, overriding his rational thoughts; trampling over his remaining fears and doubts, and the last traces of his humanity.
Too late now...
He took another deep sniff of the Doctor's scent, drinking it down.
"You smell deee-licious…" George drawled, his voice a deep sultry purr. Then he smiled. The sharp-toothed smile of a predator. "And I'm not George anymore…" he said in a sing-song voice that was almost a taunt.
"No…" said the weak, cracking voice of the not-man lying powerless beneath him. "And you are magnificent."
"Yes, I am…" breathed George as he reached for the Doctor's tie, his hands loosening and tugging at it until it slipped upwards towards the Doctor's chin. When it was pulled clear of the shirt collar and wrapped around the Doctor's bare neck, he grasped at it tightly, one hand on the length of the tie, the other closing over the fastening.
He suddenly wrenched the knot up against the Doctor's windpipe, tightening the strip of material around his neck, holding him down until he heard him begin to gasp for breath.
George leaned in close, turning his head so that the not-man's noisy attempts to suck in enough oxygen to stay alive rattled close to his ear. After a painfully long moment, he let go of the tie, and the Doctor's head fell back against the mattress. George giggled as he saw the not-man's chest rapidly rise and fall as he gasped and wheezed beneath him.
George got off the bed and regarded his victim. Pathetic. Just like a human, covering his soft pink skin with cloth because he wasn’t powerful enough to grow a glorious covering of dark, silky fur, like the one he would soon have…
Stop it!
George squeezed his eyes closed and tried to clutch at his humanity. It had never been as difficult as this to keep a hold of his own mind. He was close to transformation, but not that close. The last remnants of his humanity were usually easier to keep to the surface than this.
The wild hunger rising inside him at the Doctor's willingness to be taken was overwhelming him, giving his wolfself more power to dominate. He was losing control so fast…
"Scared…" he managed to gasp. "It's getting stronger… I can't keep hold of… me…"
But all the Doctor did was lie there and gaze at him. "Take your clothes off, George," he murmured. He spoke softly, but it was almost a command. "So you can let out the wolf."
George's eyes flickered down to the Doctor's hands. His left, the knuckles whitened, was gripping the sonic screwdriver like a drowning man clutching at a lifebuoy. The Doctor's right hand was squeezing and rubbing desperately at his own straining erection, the fingers fumbling almost autonomously at the fastening of his trousers, desperate to free himself.
"I could kill you..." George said.
There had been times, recently, when the Doctor might have greeted the dark shroud of Death like the welcoming embrace of an old and dear friend.
The Doctor glanced down at the sonic screwdriver in his hand. But not today.
"You won't," the Doctor said, his voice steady.
George bit his lip, hard. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling his nails grow a little sharper. Not long now, and claws would emerge. He bent forward and grasped the front of the Doctor's shirt, tearing away handfuls of the pale blue cotton as though it were tissue paper.
The Doctor's flesh was creamy pale beneath the fabric, soft and pliant and appetizing. George paused a moment to remove his own clothes, scrabbling desperately at the hot, unnatural-feeling cloth covering his heated skin.
At last, bare to the world, as was only right, George climbed back onto the bed, straddling the slim waist of his sacrifice. He reached down, lightly flexing his sharpening nails against the not-man's chest for a moment before tearing away the rest of the shirt and discarding the frayed strips of cloth, littering it all around them. The Doctor, staring up into George's face, wriggled his arms out of the suit jacket until he just lay on top of it, with only the remnants of his tattered shirt sleeves covering his arms.
George bent over the not-man, rubbing his hardened sex against the alien's thigh, hearing him gasp.
He looked down and smiled, baring his teeth. Then he reached out and before the Doctor could stop him, George wrenched the metal rod away from his hand and threw it across the room, hearing a satisfying metallic clink as it hit a wall and rolled under a shabby chest of drawers.
George chuckled. Oh yes. Now the trace of fear that he could pick out in the amalgamation of scents was suddenly a little stronger… George drank it in deeply.
The not-man sat up and with a surprisingly hard push on George's chest, he nimbly wriggled out from under him, leaping off the mattress with surprising speed, and throwing himself to the ground so hard the momentum made him slide along the floor on his front for a few inches. He started to quickly crawl forward with his hand outstretched, heading for the heavy furniture that the sonic screwdriver had skittered under.
George landed on the Doctor's back with surprising force, winding him and extracting a loud grunt. George tore the rest of the Doctor's shirt off his back and before the Time Lord could even move, he sank his teeth into the Doctor's right shoulder, relishing the moment as hot blood filled his mouth.
The Doctor let out a hiss of pain and stopped struggling. George sat up, straddling the Doctor's legs, staring fascinated at the bloom of crimson that welled up at the site of the wound he had just torn into the Doctor's flesh. Two distinct rivulets of blood slowly trickled down the junction of the Time Lord's neck and shoulder and pooled on the floor beneath him. George swiped a hand across his own lips, and his fingers came away scarlet.
"Oh God… what the hell am I doing?" George stood up and staggered backwards, staring down at the Doctor in horror.
The Doctor slowly rolled over and stood up, a little shakily. Unblinkingly, he reached his left hand over to his right shoulder and gathered some of the blood onto his fingers. He gazed at the red stain on his fingertips, turning his hand this way and that as though to examine the shiny wetness from different angles.
"Millions of gallons of this… shed because of me…" he murmured, almost to himself. "Look… it's on my hands…"
George swallowed. "Get your screwdriver. Open the door and let me out. I can't do this. I keep losing myself I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want to hurt you any more…"
The Doctor smiled darkly. He held out his fingers just in front of George's mouth. George closed his eyes dizzily. The smell of it was making his head swim.
"I'm not afraid of you," the Doctor whispered. "Please, George… make me clean again…"
George opened his eyes. The whites were a little yellow. He surrendered and parted his lips, and the Doctor pushed his bloodied fingers inside the wet heat of his mouth. George reached out and gripped the Doctor's arm. He sucked greedily on the Time Lord's fingers, closing his eyes in rapture at the hot metallic taste, his knees almost buckling.
After a moment, the Doctor slowly pulled out his fingers, smearing more diluted crimson around George's lips, before wrapping his arms around him and kissing him hungrily, plundering the young man's mouth with his tongue.
George moaned into the Doctor's mouth, clutching at the Doctor's bare back, raking his sharpened nails down the tender skin and drawing more gasps and more blood from him. He ran his palms hard all over the Doctor's body, smearing the wetness and painting him with abstract scarlet patterns all over his back and chest.
"Moon's out…" the last of George's human self muttered into the Doctor's ear, licking at the lobe as his hands slid down to the Doctor's groin and began to tear at his trousers. "I can't hold back the wolf any more… I'm not strong enough…"
"Yes… yes…" panted the Doctor, feeling warm fluid trickling down his back, soothing away the sting of his torn skin and bitter guilt. "Let it out. Let out the wolf… Let it take me..."
The Doctor toed off his trainers and ripped hastily at the fastenings of his fly, his fingers becoming entangled with George's for a moment, until at last he could let the torn, bloodied trousers fall to the ground around his feet. He stumbled backwards, stepping out of them as George suddenly shoved into him hard with the flat of his shoulder. The Doctor tensed for a moment, and George grinned and backhanded him across the face. The blow was so hard, the Doctor felt the whiplash in the back of his neck. He fell to the floor and landed hard on his backside. Feeling a little dazed, he blinked up at George as the manwolf threw his head back and howled at the universe.
Blood tricked from the side of the Doctor's mouth and he licked his lips, tasting himself. His head was still ringing from the blow. He savoured it.
George suddenly let out a shriek and doubled over, squeezing his eyes closed in agony as the skin of his back began to stretch and mutate.
So close now…
The Doctor reached for him, pulling him down onto his knees and then on top of him, running his hands down George's naked back and feeling the skin bubble and shift beneath his fingers as the spine altered and stretched.
The Doctor stroked tenderly at George's back with his fingers, making comforting noises into his ear in an attempt to soothe him through the pain of his transformation.
George lifted his head. His eyes were bright yellow and wolf-like now, and he blinked slowly. He was almost completely lost to the animal within him.
The Doctor ran his fingers down George's cheek, feeling how it was pushed out by his rapidly developing fangs. "Let it out…" he repeated in a whisper, and wondered dimly whether he was addressing George, or talking to himself.
George let his full weight bear down on the Doctor, shifting so that their naked bodies met at every juncture. He traced the sharp, pointed nail of his index finger across the Doctor's collarbone almost delicately, gazing as a new bloom of scarlet arose on the creamy skin. The not-man was staring at him, a soft hiss escaping his lips.
George leaned over and licked at the Doctor's throat, breathing a gust of hot air over the moistened flesh and feeling the Doctor shudder beneath him.
The taste of salt and the heat between them seemed to ignite something powerful in George, and he bared his teeth, suddenly bearing down on the Doctor's forearms with his full weight, trapping him against the cold, hard ground like a cornered rat as he licked and nipped at the Time Lord's flesh, making him yelp and twitch beneath him.
And the Doctor loved every moment of it.
George let go of the Doctor's arms after a moment, but the Time Lord didn't struggle as the manwolf reached down between them and gripped roughly at the Doctor's thighs, spreading them apart and pushing against the soft pink flesh until he could slide his lower body into the gap between them. He was grunting and growling under his breath like an animal in heat, and the Doctor had never felt desire like this in all his long life.
George bent over the Doctor, whimpering with fevered arousal and the occasional spasm of pain as his skin and muscles slowly mutated. His clawed hands pushed down on the Doctor's chest, restricting his breathing, as he writhed desperately above the not-man, manoeuvring himself into place amid the alien's heated thighs and urgently rubbing his hardness against the cleft between them, caring of nothing but taking what was his.
The Doctor gritted his teeth. George was too far gone to take into account such petty human concerns as the use of lubrication, but as a Time Lord, he had a sufficient amount of control of his own physiology to ensure that he could relax enough to avoid too much physical damage.
Even so… it hurt.
The Doctor threw his head back and cried out in agonised bliss as George finally pushed his way inside him, arching his back as George slobbered over his sluggishly bleeding shoulder and began to rut into him violently, the sharpened tips of his almost-claws pressing painfully into the Doctor's flesh.
"Yes…" the Doctor hissed. "Harder…"
Oh, it hurt. And it felt so good. This was what he'd been waiting for, all these lost months; alone and hurting and sensing something waiting for him in the darkness. The dark, bitter shadow of the angry universe hanging over him like a cloud, resenting him for the terrible things he'd done. For what he'd allowed to be done in his name.
The Doctor lay back on the hard floor and let himself be mindlessly taken; his sins paid for by the sting of the wounds in his flesh, his guilt soothed by the warm wash of his own lifeblood being smeared over his skin.
But… for all the hurt he'd caused, he could never despise himself so much that he could not allow himself some pleasure from this.
The Doctor, light-headed and drunk on his own endorphins, reached between their sweating bodies and began to stroke at his own cock, hissing and gasping as the man who was no longer completely human growled and yelped above him, fucking him like an animal. Like they were both just animals.
The Doctor's orgasm took him by surprise, extracting a scream from his lips. It was strong and intense, and seemed to last for a very long time. He dimly felt the warm wetness of his semen splatter his chest and stomach. Some of it was on George's chest. The chest that was now beginning to grow dark with rapidly growing hair…
The Doctor's body bowed as with a feral roar, George thrust in him one last, brutal time and filled him with hot fluid, and the Doctor stared up, fascinated and horrified as George's face began to elongate and morph into the drooling maw of a wolf.
The Doctor slid weakly out from the heavy weight of the helpless creature, unable to tear his eyes away from the rapidly transforming werewolf. The manwolf was limp and shaking from his own orgasm and too distracted by the final changes happening to his mind and body to notice the Doctor crawl over to the wooden chest of drawers and retrieve his sonic screwdriver from beneath.
The Doctor edged slowly past George, keeping close to the wall as the wolf, now fully transformed, stood up on its powerful hind legs and sniffed the air.
The Doctor pressed a switch on the screwdriver, and heard the clunk and hum of the heavy door open behind him. He paused for another second to gaze in awe at the wolf who was now staring fixedly at him, readying to pounce.
The Doctor smiled weakly. "Thank you," he muttered, and fled.
The door closed and locked behind the Doctor, just as he heard the heavy thump of the wolf throwing himself against the crystalline metal, howling and scratching at it frantically.
The Doctor slid tiredly and painfully down the length of the door and sat with his back leaning against it. The sounds he heard over the next few minutes were that of wood splintering, bangs, crashes and fevered howls.
The Doctor leaned his head back against the door, feeling it shudder under the occasional assault of the creature on the other side of it… the werewolf who, unknowingly, might just have saved him.
*****
George woke up naked, like he did after every transformation. For a moment, he thought he was back in the old isolation room in the hospital, because he was warm and there was hard metal or concrete beneath his body, and not damp undergrowth and lumpy tree roots.
Something was different though, there was something warm, wet and slightly coarse being dragged softly against his skin. It was a strangely comforting sensation, and he kept his eyes closed and enjoyed it for a moment, wondering fuzzily if this was what it felt like to be a kitten being licked by its mother.
Then he woke up properly, and his eyes snapped open.
He raised his head and looked around. Pale coral-coloured walls, strangely glittering. He was inside an alien spaceship. He vaguely remembered being shown a werewolf-proof room. Like a nursery for a werewolf, complete with toys...
The place was a disaster; there were pieces of splintered wood strewn about the place, and a mostly-demolished mattress lying at an angle in the corner. There were faint scratches marking the walls, but there'd been no real damage done to them. Pieces of wicker and gnawed chicken bones, shredded white stuffing and scraps of tattered fabric lay littered around him.
And there was still a warm, wet sensation running over the backs of his thighs. He twisted and saw that the Doctor was kneeling behind him, a bowl of pink-tinged water on the ground by his side. The Time Lord was gently running a dampened facecloth over George's naked body, washing away streaks of dried blood.
The Doctor himself was wearing a white cotton shirt and blue suit trousers, and no tie or jacket this time. His hair looked damp, as though he'd recently taken a shower, and he looked a little pale. There was a small cut on his bottom lip near the corner of his mouth, although it looked like it was almost healed. The slightly opened collar of his shirt revealed a tracery of shallow scratches on his neck.
George shook his head slightly, trying to wake up properly. He straightened and sat up, bringing his knees up to his chest.
The Doctor put the facecloth back into the bowl of water and sat back on his haunches. "Morning," he said softly.
George rubbed his eyes with shaking hands. He stared at the Doctor with a worried expression on his face. "I don't remember… what did I do last night?
The Doctor smiled. He seemed… different, George thought. More relaxed. Happier, even. "Oh... nothing bad," the Doctor said gently.
George looked down at himself. There was still a faint pink stain here and there. "I'm covered in blood," he whispered. He paled and looked up at the Doctor. "It's not mine, is it?"
The Doctor shook his head.
"So how can it be nothing bad?" His voice was shaking.
The Doctor leaned forward and kissed George softly on the forehead. George blushed, but didn't pull away.
The Doctor smiled again. "It was… nothing that I wasn't prepared for. That I didn't want to happen. I swear."
George shook his head. "I don't remember much. Usually I can remember what happens right up to transformation, but last night… it's all so hazy."
The Doctor nodded. "Emotions were running a bit high. The wolf inside you was stronger than usual."
George reached out towards the scratches on his neck. "Did I attack you? Oh God… what happened?"
The Doctor shook his head. "You had a craving inside you that needed satisfying, that's all. And so did I. And… we did each other a favour." He smiled.
George wasn't convinced. "I remember kissing you… feeling a bit… y'know. Horny." He blushed. "I usually do, but I manage to… hold back. Usually." He looked at the Doctor, his eyes wide. "I didn't hold back last night, did I?"
The Doctor looked a little embarrassed. "I think it's safe to say no, you didn't. But it's alright. I wanted it to happen."
George ran his hands through his hair. He allowed himself a little smile. "I don't remember… was it… okay?" He looked at the Doctor uncertainly.
The Doctor nodded, lost in thought. "It was… just what I needed, yeah."
George's face was a deep shade of pink. "This is insane," George said, laughing softly. "I'm not even gay."
The Doctor smiled faintly. "You humans and your quaint little categories. That's what a friend of mine used to say…"
There was a silent pause.
"You miss your friends," said George softly. "Don't you?"
The Doctor nodded, looking a little sad. "Yeah. Sometimes."
George swallowed. "Well, I was thinking… maybe I could go with you. You could take me to see the stars…"
The Doctor smiled bitterly. "And what about Mitchell and Annie. Wouldn't they miss you?"
George shrugged. "You could take them too. Can a ghost travel in a spaceship, do you think?"
The Doctor chuckled a little. "I must admit, that's something I've never thought about." Then he looked serious. "I'm sorry, George. But no."
George looked down. "You think I'd be dangerous. But… we could just travel around in time. If we made sure it was never a full moon wherever we went... I could avoid the moon forever. I'd never have to transform again!" His eyes were shining with hope.
But the Doctor just shook his head. "I told you. It's just me, on my own, from now on. My friends... they trust me. Like you did. And I just end up hurting them. I don't mean to. But I hurt them and they leave me, in the end. And I can't cope with it anymore. It hurts too much."
"You seem a bit better this morning, though. Not quite as… sad." George smiled tightly. "Is that… did I have something to do with that?"
The Doctor took a deep breath. "Yes. I feel… like a weight has been lifted. Just a bit… and you have no idea how grateful I am." He smiled. "Thank you."
George bit his lip. "This sounds like a goodbye," he said quietly. "Am I ever going to see you again?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I don't think so, George. It… wouldn't be a good idea. Not with the way you make me feel when you transform. It's... too dangerous. For both of us."
George's eyes were filled with tears. "It's just that…" he barked out an exasperated-sounding peal of laughter. "I think I've fallen for you. A bit."
The Doctor looked sad, for a moment, and maybe a little bashful. "Yeah. That seems to happen quite often, to be honest."
George nodded. "Yeah. I bet it does," he said sincerely.
He suddenly realised how naked he was. Up until now he hadn't been that bothered about being nude in front of the Doctor, but now he felt distinctly awkward. "I don't suppose you know where my clothes are…"
The Doctor nodded and reached behind him. "They're here. You seemed more interested in the furniture last night, so I'm glad to say they survived." He handed George his jeans and t-shirt. George put them down next to him in a pile. Despite how exposed he felt, he didn't put them on.
"What can I say to persuade you to stay with me?" George looked up at the Doctor again, his eyes reddened and shining.
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said again. He didn't know what else to say.
George hugged his legs. "You made me realise there's so much more than this… a whole universe out there. Waiting to be explored. And apart from that, you made me feel… special. When I'm with you, I forget what I am. I feel… accepted. I don't feel like a freak, or a monster. I need you, Doctor. What am I supposed to do without you?"
The Doctor stood up, and held a hand out. After a moment, George took it and let himself be helped to his feet. The Doctor placed both his hands warmly on George's cheeks. "You'll be fine, George Sands. You are a brave, decent man. Braver and more special than you will ever know. And your friends can see that. Keep them close to you, George. Trust them. Help each other. You don't need me."
George closed his eyes. "I wish I'd never met you." Tears rolled down his face.
The Doctor swallowed. "Yeah. You're not the first person to ever say that to me, either." The Doctor let his hands slide further up George's face, and placed the tips of his index and middle fingers on his temples. The Time Lord closed his eyes and concentrated, and a moment later he braced himself to bear George's full bodyweight as he lost consciousness, and slumped in the Doctor's arms.
The Doctor held on to George, stopping him from falling to the floor, savouring how the young man felt cradled in his arms, for the last time.
It brought back painful memories for a moment, and the Doctor held George tightly to him, blinking away the hot, bitter tears that suddenly stung his eyes.
*****
The Doctor had moved to the TARDIS to the clearing where George usually transformed, so that he wouldn't have to carry the limp, naked body very far. He placed George carefully on a soft bed of bracken, kneeling beside him and stroking his hair for a moment.
George would wake up in the woods soon, with his clothes and spectacles shoved into a binbag hidden under the Hawthorne bushes, as usual. He might be a little confused when he wouldn't be able to remember what had happened the night before, but then as George always said, he was always a bit out of it, that close to transformation.
He wouldn't remember being inside an alien spaceship called the TARDIS. He wouldn't remember the Doctor. He'd never know what they had done together.
It wasn't quite enough though. The Doctor gazed at George for a moment more, feeling sad. Then he repeated what he had done in the TARDIS, placing his fingertips on George's temples.
George was a strong, brave young man. Stronger than he thought. But the creature that lay dormant in his mind, the wolf that emerged once a month was also strong. Very strong, and dangerous. George in his lycanthrope form wasn't dangerous to the Earth as a whole, and the Doctor didn't need to do anything but let him live his life.
But the wolf inside him was a hungry, sexual predator, the Doctor was very aware of that now. He had told George that if he let out the wolf, if he gave in to his cravings, then he might not need to unleash his sexual fury on anyone else in the future. But the Doctor acknowledged that this may have just been a convenient theory. There was no way of knowing whether he might have unlocked something within George to make things even worse.
And he couldn't allow that.
The Doctor's psychic tendrils moved through George's mind like a hot knife through butter, making him better. Well... as best as he could. Even for someone called the Doctor, with all his knowledge and experience and power, he could never heal anyone quite as completely as he would like to.
Not even himself.
End
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Fandom: Doctor Who / Being Human (Crossover)
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/George
Rating: This Chapter - NC-17 for sexual and violent content
Spoilers: Doctor Who - Journey's End / Being Human - first two episodes of series one
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Being Human belong to the BBC, and not me. But I'll put them back in the toybox when I've finished.
Warning: Slash, lycanthrophilia (sexual attraction to/sex with a werewolf), violence, masochism, bloodplay, implied suicidal thoughts, dark themes, angst.
Author's Note: This final chapter is very dark and not for the faint-hearted! Thanks to tescohatesme, mspixieears and especially to the very kind, helpful and clever adafrog.
George leant forwards, closing his eyes as he held his face close to the Doctor's throat and sniffed, savouring the rich scent of alien pheromones; sifting through the different notes like an expert evaluating a fine wine. It was a tantalising, intoxicating blend of arousal… excitement... adrenaline… and the faintest hint of fear. He could sense the blood pumping round the Doctor's body; he could feel the twin beats of the Doctor's hearts thumping against his own chest.
The power of the wolf within him coursed through George's veins, making him feel strong and potent. The dominating mind of the animal crawled hotly over his consciousness, overriding his rational thoughts; trampling over his remaining fears and doubts, and the last traces of his humanity.
Too late now...
Chapter Six
George stared down at the Doctor lying prone on the lumpy old mattress beneath him, trapped by the weight of his body. The Time Lord's eyes were wide and unblinking; his breathing was ragged, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and around his mouth.
George bent his head and swiped the tip of his tongue across the Doctor's top lip, the sensitive muscle rasping over light stubble as he tasted the saline tang of alien perspiration, as though that might satisfy the wild craving that was threatening to overcome the last of his humanity.
But it wasn't enough to sate him. Fuck, it wasn't nearly enough.
"Door's open…" the Doctor repeated in a muttering tone. George wondered if it were another verbal confirmation of George's last chance to leave, or whether the Doctor was wondering aloud whether to use that door in order to exit the room himself.
George looked at the exit, and then back to the Doctor. He knew he should get up off the old bed and run, out of this insane alien ship and away into the dusk. But he didn't move. He didn't want to.
Wordlessly the Doctor reached inside his suit jacket and retrieved his sonic screwdriver. He pointed it at the doorway, pressed a button, and some hidden mechanism made the heavy door swing closed and lock, with an ominous metallic clunk.
"When I'm the wolf, I won't care anymore…" George warned, his voice almost pleading.
The Doctor blinked slowly, as though in a daze. "I have my sonic screwdriver. I can hold you at bay if I have to. I can leave, and then lock you in here. If… it gets too much." He glanced at his own hand clutching at the thin metallic instrument, as though to reassure himself that it meant he had one final trace of rationality floating around his fogged brain.
The Doctor stared up deeply into George's eyes. "I can't resist you, George. Not when you're like this. So close…" He took a deep shuddering breath. "I want… this. All of it. No matter what happens..." his voice trailed away.
George reached down and ran his hand roughly over the hard bulge prominent in the front of the Doctor's trousers. The Doctor closed his eyes and breathed out sharply through clenched teeth.
George leant forwards, closing his eyes as he held his face close to the Doctor's throat and sniffed, savouring the rich scent of alien pheromones; sifting through the different notes like an expert evaluating a fine wine. It was a tantalising, intoxicating blend of arousal… excitement... adrenaline… and the faintest hint of fear. He could sense the blood pumping round the Doctor's body; he could feel the twin beats of the Doctor's hearts thumping against his own chest.
The power of the wolf within him coursed through George's veins, making him feel strong and potent. The dominating mind of the animal crawled hotly over his consciousness, overriding his rational thoughts; trampling over his remaining fears and doubts, and the last traces of his humanity.
Too late now...
He took another deep sniff of the Doctor's scent, drinking it down.
"You smell deee-licious…" George drawled, his voice a deep sultry purr. Then he smiled. The sharp-toothed smile of a predator. "And I'm not George anymore…" he said in a sing-song voice that was almost a taunt.
"No…" said the weak, cracking voice of the not-man lying powerless beneath him. "And you are magnificent."
"Yes, I am…" breathed George as he reached for the Doctor's tie, his hands loosening and tugging at it until it slipped upwards towards the Doctor's chin. When it was pulled clear of the shirt collar and wrapped around the Doctor's bare neck, he grasped at it tightly, one hand on the length of the tie, the other closing over the fastening.
He suddenly wrenched the knot up against the Doctor's windpipe, tightening the strip of material around his neck, holding him down until he heard him begin to gasp for breath.
George leaned in close, turning his head so that the not-man's noisy attempts to suck in enough oxygen to stay alive rattled close to his ear. After a painfully long moment, he let go of the tie, and the Doctor's head fell back against the mattress. George giggled as he saw the not-man's chest rapidly rise and fall as he gasped and wheezed beneath him.
George got off the bed and regarded his victim. Pathetic. Just like a human, covering his soft pink skin with cloth because he wasn’t powerful enough to grow a glorious covering of dark, silky fur, like the one he would soon have…
Stop it!
George squeezed his eyes closed and tried to clutch at his humanity. It had never been as difficult as this to keep a hold of his own mind. He was close to transformation, but not that close. The last remnants of his humanity were usually easier to keep to the surface than this.
The wild hunger rising inside him at the Doctor's willingness to be taken was overwhelming him, giving his wolfself more power to dominate. He was losing control so fast…
"Scared…" he managed to gasp. "It's getting stronger… I can't keep hold of… me…"
But all the Doctor did was lie there and gaze at him. "Take your clothes off, George," he murmured. He spoke softly, but it was almost a command. "So you can let out the wolf."
George's eyes flickered down to the Doctor's hands. His left, the knuckles whitened, was gripping the sonic screwdriver like a drowning man clutching at a lifebuoy. The Doctor's right hand was squeezing and rubbing desperately at his own straining erection, the fingers fumbling almost autonomously at the fastening of his trousers, desperate to free himself.
"I could kill you..." George said.
There had been times, recently, when the Doctor might have greeted the dark shroud of Death like the welcoming embrace of an old and dear friend.
The Doctor glanced down at the sonic screwdriver in his hand. But not today.
"You won't," the Doctor said, his voice steady.
George bit his lip, hard. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling his nails grow a little sharper. Not long now, and claws would emerge. He bent forward and grasped the front of the Doctor's shirt, tearing away handfuls of the pale blue cotton as though it were tissue paper.
The Doctor's flesh was creamy pale beneath the fabric, soft and pliant and appetizing. George paused a moment to remove his own clothes, scrabbling desperately at the hot, unnatural-feeling cloth covering his heated skin.
At last, bare to the world, as was only right, George climbed back onto the bed, straddling the slim waist of his sacrifice. He reached down, lightly flexing his sharpening nails against the not-man's chest for a moment before tearing away the rest of the shirt and discarding the frayed strips of cloth, littering it all around them. The Doctor, staring up into George's face, wriggled his arms out of the suit jacket until he just lay on top of it, with only the remnants of his tattered shirt sleeves covering his arms.
George bent over the not-man, rubbing his hardened sex against the alien's thigh, hearing him gasp.
He looked down and smiled, baring his teeth. Then he reached out and before the Doctor could stop him, George wrenched the metal rod away from his hand and threw it across the room, hearing a satisfying metallic clink as it hit a wall and rolled under a shabby chest of drawers.
George chuckled. Oh yes. Now the trace of fear that he could pick out in the amalgamation of scents was suddenly a little stronger… George drank it in deeply.
The not-man sat up and with a surprisingly hard push on George's chest, he nimbly wriggled out from under him, leaping off the mattress with surprising speed, and throwing himself to the ground so hard the momentum made him slide along the floor on his front for a few inches. He started to quickly crawl forward with his hand outstretched, heading for the heavy furniture that the sonic screwdriver had skittered under.
George landed on the Doctor's back with surprising force, winding him and extracting a loud grunt. George tore the rest of the Doctor's shirt off his back and before the Time Lord could even move, he sank his teeth into the Doctor's right shoulder, relishing the moment as hot blood filled his mouth.
The Doctor let out a hiss of pain and stopped struggling. George sat up, straddling the Doctor's legs, staring fascinated at the bloom of crimson that welled up at the site of the wound he had just torn into the Doctor's flesh. Two distinct rivulets of blood slowly trickled down the junction of the Time Lord's neck and shoulder and pooled on the floor beneath him. George swiped a hand across his own lips, and his fingers came away scarlet.
"Oh God… what the hell am I doing?" George stood up and staggered backwards, staring down at the Doctor in horror.
The Doctor slowly rolled over and stood up, a little shakily. Unblinkingly, he reached his left hand over to his right shoulder and gathered some of the blood onto his fingers. He gazed at the red stain on his fingertips, turning his hand this way and that as though to examine the shiny wetness from different angles.
"Millions of gallons of this… shed because of me…" he murmured, almost to himself. "Look… it's on my hands…"
George swallowed. "Get your screwdriver. Open the door and let me out. I can't do this. I keep losing myself I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want to hurt you any more…"
The Doctor smiled darkly. He held out his fingers just in front of George's mouth. George closed his eyes dizzily. The smell of it was making his head swim.
"I'm not afraid of you," the Doctor whispered. "Please, George… make me clean again…"
George opened his eyes. The whites were a little yellow. He surrendered and parted his lips, and the Doctor pushed his bloodied fingers inside the wet heat of his mouth. George reached out and gripped the Doctor's arm. He sucked greedily on the Time Lord's fingers, closing his eyes in rapture at the hot metallic taste, his knees almost buckling.
After a moment, the Doctor slowly pulled out his fingers, smearing more diluted crimson around George's lips, before wrapping his arms around him and kissing him hungrily, plundering the young man's mouth with his tongue.
George moaned into the Doctor's mouth, clutching at the Doctor's bare back, raking his sharpened nails down the tender skin and drawing more gasps and more blood from him. He ran his palms hard all over the Doctor's body, smearing the wetness and painting him with abstract scarlet patterns all over his back and chest.
"Moon's out…" the last of George's human self muttered into the Doctor's ear, licking at the lobe as his hands slid down to the Doctor's groin and began to tear at his trousers. "I can't hold back the wolf any more… I'm not strong enough…"
"Yes… yes…" panted the Doctor, feeling warm fluid trickling down his back, soothing away the sting of his torn skin and bitter guilt. "Let it out. Let out the wolf… Let it take me..."
The Doctor toed off his trainers and ripped hastily at the fastenings of his fly, his fingers becoming entangled with George's for a moment, until at last he could let the torn, bloodied trousers fall to the ground around his feet. He stumbled backwards, stepping out of them as George suddenly shoved into him hard with the flat of his shoulder. The Doctor tensed for a moment, and George grinned and backhanded him across the face. The blow was so hard, the Doctor felt the whiplash in the back of his neck. He fell to the floor and landed hard on his backside. Feeling a little dazed, he blinked up at George as the manwolf threw his head back and howled at the universe.
Blood tricked from the side of the Doctor's mouth and he licked his lips, tasting himself. His head was still ringing from the blow. He savoured it.
George suddenly let out a shriek and doubled over, squeezing his eyes closed in agony as the skin of his back began to stretch and mutate.
So close now…
The Doctor reached for him, pulling him down onto his knees and then on top of him, running his hands down George's naked back and feeling the skin bubble and shift beneath his fingers as the spine altered and stretched.
The Doctor stroked tenderly at George's back with his fingers, making comforting noises into his ear in an attempt to soothe him through the pain of his transformation.
George lifted his head. His eyes were bright yellow and wolf-like now, and he blinked slowly. He was almost completely lost to the animal within him.
The Doctor ran his fingers down George's cheek, feeling how it was pushed out by his rapidly developing fangs. "Let it out…" he repeated in a whisper, and wondered dimly whether he was addressing George, or talking to himself.
George let his full weight bear down on the Doctor, shifting so that their naked bodies met at every juncture. He traced the sharp, pointed nail of his index finger across the Doctor's collarbone almost delicately, gazing as a new bloom of scarlet arose on the creamy skin. The not-man was staring at him, a soft hiss escaping his lips.
George leaned over and licked at the Doctor's throat, breathing a gust of hot air over the moistened flesh and feeling the Doctor shudder beneath him.
The taste of salt and the heat between them seemed to ignite something powerful in George, and he bared his teeth, suddenly bearing down on the Doctor's forearms with his full weight, trapping him against the cold, hard ground like a cornered rat as he licked and nipped at the Time Lord's flesh, making him yelp and twitch beneath him.
And the Doctor loved every moment of it.
George let go of the Doctor's arms after a moment, but the Time Lord didn't struggle as the manwolf reached down between them and gripped roughly at the Doctor's thighs, spreading them apart and pushing against the soft pink flesh until he could slide his lower body into the gap between them. He was grunting and growling under his breath like an animal in heat, and the Doctor had never felt desire like this in all his long life.
George bent over the Doctor, whimpering with fevered arousal and the occasional spasm of pain as his skin and muscles slowly mutated. His clawed hands pushed down on the Doctor's chest, restricting his breathing, as he writhed desperately above the not-man, manoeuvring himself into place amid the alien's heated thighs and urgently rubbing his hardness against the cleft between them, caring of nothing but taking what was his.
The Doctor gritted his teeth. George was too far gone to take into account such petty human concerns as the use of lubrication, but as a Time Lord, he had a sufficient amount of control of his own physiology to ensure that he could relax enough to avoid too much physical damage.
Even so… it hurt.
The Doctor threw his head back and cried out in agonised bliss as George finally pushed his way inside him, arching his back as George slobbered over his sluggishly bleeding shoulder and began to rut into him violently, the sharpened tips of his almost-claws pressing painfully into the Doctor's flesh.
"Yes…" the Doctor hissed. "Harder…"
Oh, it hurt. And it felt so good. This was what he'd been waiting for, all these lost months; alone and hurting and sensing something waiting for him in the darkness. The dark, bitter shadow of the angry universe hanging over him like a cloud, resenting him for the terrible things he'd done. For what he'd allowed to be done in his name.
The Doctor lay back on the hard floor and let himself be mindlessly taken; his sins paid for by the sting of the wounds in his flesh, his guilt soothed by the warm wash of his own lifeblood being smeared over his skin.
But… for all the hurt he'd caused, he could never despise himself so much that he could not allow himself some pleasure from this.
The Doctor, light-headed and drunk on his own endorphins, reached between their sweating bodies and began to stroke at his own cock, hissing and gasping as the man who was no longer completely human growled and yelped above him, fucking him like an animal. Like they were both just animals.
The Doctor's orgasm took him by surprise, extracting a scream from his lips. It was strong and intense, and seemed to last for a very long time. He dimly felt the warm wetness of his semen splatter his chest and stomach. Some of it was on George's chest. The chest that was now beginning to grow dark with rapidly growing hair…
The Doctor's body bowed as with a feral roar, George thrust in him one last, brutal time and filled him with hot fluid, and the Doctor stared up, fascinated and horrified as George's face began to elongate and morph into the drooling maw of a wolf.
The Doctor slid weakly out from the heavy weight of the helpless creature, unable to tear his eyes away from the rapidly transforming werewolf. The manwolf was limp and shaking from his own orgasm and too distracted by the final changes happening to his mind and body to notice the Doctor crawl over to the wooden chest of drawers and retrieve his sonic screwdriver from beneath.
The Doctor edged slowly past George, keeping close to the wall as the wolf, now fully transformed, stood up on its powerful hind legs and sniffed the air.
The Doctor pressed a switch on the screwdriver, and heard the clunk and hum of the heavy door open behind him. He paused for another second to gaze in awe at the wolf who was now staring fixedly at him, readying to pounce.
The Doctor smiled weakly. "Thank you," he muttered, and fled.
The door closed and locked behind the Doctor, just as he heard the heavy thump of the wolf throwing himself against the crystalline metal, howling and scratching at it frantically.
The Doctor slid tiredly and painfully down the length of the door and sat with his back leaning against it. The sounds he heard over the next few minutes were that of wood splintering, bangs, crashes and fevered howls.
The Doctor leaned his head back against the door, feeling it shudder under the occasional assault of the creature on the other side of it… the werewolf who, unknowingly, might just have saved him.
*****
George woke up naked, like he did after every transformation. For a moment, he thought he was back in the old isolation room in the hospital, because he was warm and there was hard metal or concrete beneath his body, and not damp undergrowth and lumpy tree roots.
Something was different though, there was something warm, wet and slightly coarse being dragged softly against his skin. It was a strangely comforting sensation, and he kept his eyes closed and enjoyed it for a moment, wondering fuzzily if this was what it felt like to be a kitten being licked by its mother.
Then he woke up properly, and his eyes snapped open.
He raised his head and looked around. Pale coral-coloured walls, strangely glittering. He was inside an alien spaceship. He vaguely remembered being shown a werewolf-proof room. Like a nursery for a werewolf, complete with toys...
The place was a disaster; there were pieces of splintered wood strewn about the place, and a mostly-demolished mattress lying at an angle in the corner. There were faint scratches marking the walls, but there'd been no real damage done to them. Pieces of wicker and gnawed chicken bones, shredded white stuffing and scraps of tattered fabric lay littered around him.
And there was still a warm, wet sensation running over the backs of his thighs. He twisted and saw that the Doctor was kneeling behind him, a bowl of pink-tinged water on the ground by his side. The Time Lord was gently running a dampened facecloth over George's naked body, washing away streaks of dried blood.
The Doctor himself was wearing a white cotton shirt and blue suit trousers, and no tie or jacket this time. His hair looked damp, as though he'd recently taken a shower, and he looked a little pale. There was a small cut on his bottom lip near the corner of his mouth, although it looked like it was almost healed. The slightly opened collar of his shirt revealed a tracery of shallow scratches on his neck.
George shook his head slightly, trying to wake up properly. He straightened and sat up, bringing his knees up to his chest.
The Doctor put the facecloth back into the bowl of water and sat back on his haunches. "Morning," he said softly.
George rubbed his eyes with shaking hands. He stared at the Doctor with a worried expression on his face. "I don't remember… what did I do last night?
The Doctor smiled. He seemed… different, George thought. More relaxed. Happier, even. "Oh... nothing bad," the Doctor said gently.
George looked down at himself. There was still a faint pink stain here and there. "I'm covered in blood," he whispered. He paled and looked up at the Doctor. "It's not mine, is it?"
The Doctor shook his head.
"So how can it be nothing bad?" His voice was shaking.
The Doctor leaned forward and kissed George softly on the forehead. George blushed, but didn't pull away.
The Doctor smiled again. "It was… nothing that I wasn't prepared for. That I didn't want to happen. I swear."
George shook his head. "I don't remember much. Usually I can remember what happens right up to transformation, but last night… it's all so hazy."
The Doctor nodded. "Emotions were running a bit high. The wolf inside you was stronger than usual."
George reached out towards the scratches on his neck. "Did I attack you? Oh God… what happened?"
The Doctor shook his head. "You had a craving inside you that needed satisfying, that's all. And so did I. And… we did each other a favour." He smiled.
George wasn't convinced. "I remember kissing you… feeling a bit… y'know. Horny." He blushed. "I usually do, but I manage to… hold back. Usually." He looked at the Doctor, his eyes wide. "I didn't hold back last night, did I?"
The Doctor looked a little embarrassed. "I think it's safe to say no, you didn't. But it's alright. I wanted it to happen."
George ran his hands through his hair. He allowed himself a little smile. "I don't remember… was it… okay?" He looked at the Doctor uncertainly.
The Doctor nodded, lost in thought. "It was… just what I needed, yeah."
George's face was a deep shade of pink. "This is insane," George said, laughing softly. "I'm not even gay."
The Doctor smiled faintly. "You humans and your quaint little categories. That's what a friend of mine used to say…"
There was a silent pause.
"You miss your friends," said George softly. "Don't you?"
The Doctor nodded, looking a little sad. "Yeah. Sometimes."
George swallowed. "Well, I was thinking… maybe I could go with you. You could take me to see the stars…"
The Doctor smiled bitterly. "And what about Mitchell and Annie. Wouldn't they miss you?"
George shrugged. "You could take them too. Can a ghost travel in a spaceship, do you think?"
The Doctor chuckled a little. "I must admit, that's something I've never thought about." Then he looked serious. "I'm sorry, George. But no."
George looked down. "You think I'd be dangerous. But… we could just travel around in time. If we made sure it was never a full moon wherever we went... I could avoid the moon forever. I'd never have to transform again!" His eyes were shining with hope.
But the Doctor just shook his head. "I told you. It's just me, on my own, from now on. My friends... they trust me. Like you did. And I just end up hurting them. I don't mean to. But I hurt them and they leave me, in the end. And I can't cope with it anymore. It hurts too much."
"You seem a bit better this morning, though. Not quite as… sad." George smiled tightly. "Is that… did I have something to do with that?"
The Doctor took a deep breath. "Yes. I feel… like a weight has been lifted. Just a bit… and you have no idea how grateful I am." He smiled. "Thank you."
George bit his lip. "This sounds like a goodbye," he said quietly. "Am I ever going to see you again?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I don't think so, George. It… wouldn't be a good idea. Not with the way you make me feel when you transform. It's... too dangerous. For both of us."
George's eyes were filled with tears. "It's just that…" he barked out an exasperated-sounding peal of laughter. "I think I've fallen for you. A bit."
The Doctor looked sad, for a moment, and maybe a little bashful. "Yeah. That seems to happen quite often, to be honest."
George nodded. "Yeah. I bet it does," he said sincerely.
He suddenly realised how naked he was. Up until now he hadn't been that bothered about being nude in front of the Doctor, but now he felt distinctly awkward. "I don't suppose you know where my clothes are…"
The Doctor nodded and reached behind him. "They're here. You seemed more interested in the furniture last night, so I'm glad to say they survived." He handed George his jeans and t-shirt. George put them down next to him in a pile. Despite how exposed he felt, he didn't put them on.
"What can I say to persuade you to stay with me?" George looked up at the Doctor again, his eyes reddened and shining.
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said again. He didn't know what else to say.
George hugged his legs. "You made me realise there's so much more than this… a whole universe out there. Waiting to be explored. And apart from that, you made me feel… special. When I'm with you, I forget what I am. I feel… accepted. I don't feel like a freak, or a monster. I need you, Doctor. What am I supposed to do without you?"
The Doctor stood up, and held a hand out. After a moment, George took it and let himself be helped to his feet. The Doctor placed both his hands warmly on George's cheeks. "You'll be fine, George Sands. You are a brave, decent man. Braver and more special than you will ever know. And your friends can see that. Keep them close to you, George. Trust them. Help each other. You don't need me."
George closed his eyes. "I wish I'd never met you." Tears rolled down his face.
The Doctor swallowed. "Yeah. You're not the first person to ever say that to me, either." The Doctor let his hands slide further up George's face, and placed the tips of his index and middle fingers on his temples. The Time Lord closed his eyes and concentrated, and a moment later he braced himself to bear George's full bodyweight as he lost consciousness, and slumped in the Doctor's arms.
The Doctor held on to George, stopping him from falling to the floor, savouring how the young man felt cradled in his arms, for the last time.
It brought back painful memories for a moment, and the Doctor held George tightly to him, blinking away the hot, bitter tears that suddenly stung his eyes.
*****
The Doctor had moved to the TARDIS to the clearing where George usually transformed, so that he wouldn't have to carry the limp, naked body very far. He placed George carefully on a soft bed of bracken, kneeling beside him and stroking his hair for a moment.
George would wake up in the woods soon, with his clothes and spectacles shoved into a binbag hidden under the Hawthorne bushes, as usual. He might be a little confused when he wouldn't be able to remember what had happened the night before, but then as George always said, he was always a bit out of it, that close to transformation.
He wouldn't remember being inside an alien spaceship called the TARDIS. He wouldn't remember the Doctor. He'd never know what they had done together.
It wasn't quite enough though. The Doctor gazed at George for a moment more, feeling sad. Then he repeated what he had done in the TARDIS, placing his fingertips on George's temples.
George was a strong, brave young man. Stronger than he thought. But the creature that lay dormant in his mind, the wolf that emerged once a month was also strong. Very strong, and dangerous. George in his lycanthrope form wasn't dangerous to the Earth as a whole, and the Doctor didn't need to do anything but let him live his life.
But the wolf inside him was a hungry, sexual predator, the Doctor was very aware of that now. He had told George that if he let out the wolf, if he gave in to his cravings, then he might not need to unleash his sexual fury on anyone else in the future. But the Doctor acknowledged that this may have just been a convenient theory. There was no way of knowing whether he might have unlocked something within George to make things even worse.
And he couldn't allow that.
The Doctor's psychic tendrils moved through George's mind like a hot knife through butter, making him better. Well... as best as he could. Even for someone called the Doctor, with all his knowledge and experience and power, he could never heal anyone quite as completely as he would like to.
Not even himself.
End
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five