Chapter One 

Martha 

“Should we be rocking like this? I mean, I understand the whole traveling through the vortex in time bit, but this…”

Martha’s words cut off abruptly as the TARDIS heaved sideways, throwing her off her feet. The Doctor, who had been studying the steering panel of the ship intently, briefly looked up at the sound of her fall, before returning to his task.

“It looks like she’s in flux.” The Doctor said thoughtfully.

 She watched him adjust his reading glasses, realizing his use of the word her was in reference to the ship, and not an acknowledgement of her position on the ground. Which was fine, really. They’d traveled together long enough for him to know she could take care of herself, and she could. But still…a little concern would have taken the edge off her now aching shin.

“Flux.” Martha sighed as she slowly stood up. “That’s a brilliantly vague analysis. Can you be more specific?”

“Not really. She does this from time to time, when the mood strikes, never really found what caused it. It’s not an actual flux, just some sort of moodiness. But I needed to call it something, and I do love saying that word.”

He smiled brightly, pleased with himself. The smile faded at her exasperated expression, and he cleared his throat.

“Tried to fix it the first time it happened.” He said. “But she wasn’t having it. Ended up in the Silfrax Galaxy. Nasty little planet, full of wasps.” 

The Doctor walked away from the panel and sat down on a raised platform nearby, leaning back against a metal beam. He crossed his long legs at the ankles, and his arms rose up to rest behind his head. Martha stared at his lean, handsome face, illumated by the bright green glow of the TARDIS control panel, and crossed her arms over her chest, which only elicited a mischievous smile in response.

“Oh, what’s that look for?” he said. “Don’t like the mystery?”

“The mystery I can handle.” Martha said shortly. “I just don’t want to end up in the middle of a bloody sun, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’ll never happen.”

“It won’t?”

“Very unlikely.”

Her arms dropped to her sides.

“Well, which is it?”

“Hmm?”

“Which is it?” she repeated, louder this time. “Is it “never happen”, or is it “very unlikely?”

He blew out a puff of air, looking around the ship, before meeting her gaze once more.

“Can’t it be both?”

He had been this way since she met him, a walking jumble of eccentricities and contradictions. For someone so brilliant, so well versed in the ways of science and the lot, he spent much of his time avoiding clear answers, particularly to anything pertaining to himself. It drove her mad sometimes, went totally against her inquisitive nature. But she’d accepted it. Because he was The Doctor. And he was her friend.

But right now she felt the overwhelming urge to throw her shoe at him.

“I knew this wasn’t a good idea. My mother warned me and I just didn’t listen, I was just so angry..”

“At Tom?”

“Yes, at—”

The TARDIS rocked again, and she grabbed the railing in front of her.  The Doctor’s eye brow rose. 

“She’s reacting to your anger; try not to get so wound up.”

“Wound up, eh?” She pointed a finger to her chin. “This is not my wound up face, trust me. You’ll spot the real one straight away.”

Martha realized she was being a rotten shipmate, but she couldn’t help herself. There was knot in her stomach that had formed as soon as she learned her fiancée was seeing someone else, someone blonder. And taller. And it wouldn’t go away, just got bigger, and the pain made her irritable, borderline nasty, really. 

She’d taken holiday from her position with UNIT, unable to concentrate on her work with this thing in her stomach. Martha knew she needed time away when she mixed up a flu vaccine when an alien anti-body medication.  The solider was fine now, but he’d turned a rancid shade of muddy blue and had to be quarantined. She’d asked for a holiday that was granted in record time.  She’d try not to take that personally though.

 This was her first time away since she’d taken the job, and her superiors were beyond accommodating, telling her to take as much time as she needed. It made sense considering all she’d done for them in the past years. Saving the world did have its benefits, though Martha was sure having a direct phone line to The Doctor helped things along. They needed her because they needed him, and no matter how well she did at Unit, she never forgot that. 

So, being firmly entrenched in a blue period, she’d called The Doctor, a choice she was now actively questioning. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to spend time with him, she did. He was brilliant and fun, he was always good for a laugh. And she’d missed him terribly. Dona Noble, his current traveling companion, had taken leave to visit her family, so The Doctor was more than enthusiastic about her joining him again, if even for a short time. He’d laughed that brilliant laugh of his and talked about entire planets covered in oceans, a large city engulfed in the sea.

It was all so very fantastic.

But at the first unnerving shift of the TARDIS, the knot had reared its head again,. Everything that had happened before, all that had gone wrong the first time she traveled with him came rushing back.

And now, she could be seconds away from imploding inside a burning sun. Well, she’d already been down that road, and she’d be damned if she’d take that ride again. Martha remembered the raw fear and panic when she’d been trapped in that escape pod, helpless as it slowly drifted to the large ball of flaming gas. The unbearable heat, the crushing hopelessness. Until then she’d never felt anything like it. It still made her tremble whenever she remembered, despite her eventual rescue, courtesy of The Doctor.

Plus, her hair looked a fright afterwards.

“Well, I can’t just stand here and wait for something to happen.” Martha said finally.

“Why not?” he said. She knew he was toying with her; he was the last person to let things just happen. But she played along.

“Because I can’t.”

Her dark eyes drifted to the panel.

“Maybe I could have a go, figure out what’s wrong.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

It was her turn to raise her eyebrow.

“Why not?  I’ve been here before remember, I’m not a novice. And I happen to be quite brilliant at figuring things out, alien technology is my specialty.”

“They have a specialty for that?”

“They made it. Just for me.” She replied proudly.

“Ah…” His hand motioned to the panel, his eyes lit with amusement.

“Very well, Doctor Jones, give it a whirl. But don’t push the red button.”

“Why, what’s the red button do?”

“Oh, there is no red button; it just sounded like something I should say under the circumstances.”

“God, you’re such a prat.”

 Dean 

“I’m hungry. You hungry?”

He watched the irritation cross his brother’s face, which was currently lightly sprayed with fresh blood. Sam held a long machete in his hand and a particularly nasty demon lay dead at his feet.

“You know Dean, I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment, but thanks.”

Dean shook his head, and stuck his dad’s leather bound journal back into his jacket pocket. Sam was usually the one who read the exorcisms, Dean was shit when it came to Latin, but his brother had dropped the book when the demon had jumped him. So Dean picked it up and managed to get the words out, though it took a bit longer than usual. Which was probably why his brother was giving him that pissy look again.

“Are you sure?” Dean said as his stomach rumbled. “Cause we passed an all night diner on the way here. I think they have pie... man, I’d love some pie right now.”

Sam shook his head and dropped the machete on the floor. He’d taken the weapon off his attacker, a cute little blond with jet black eyes who swung a mean fucking blade. It was too bad really, she was definitely his type. Except for the whole possessed by a hell demon thing of course.

Sam wiped his mouth, and grimaced.

“I think I got blood in my mouth.”

“Shit, I hate it when that happens.” 

They walked out of the house, Dean limping slightly. The bitch had bit him on the leg at one point. He just hoped those things brushed their teeth, the last thing he needed was a damn infection.

“You know what gets that taste out man.” Dean continued.

“What’s that?”

“Pie.”

Sam sighed, and quickened his pace, heading for the car. Dean’s hazel eyes widened, and he lifted his hands slightly.

“What?  Damn, don’t be such a baby, it’s just blood.” He said, then continued, his voice significantly lower. “Nasty ass demon blood, but still…”

“Can we go?” Sam called out, already in the passenger’s seat of Dean’s black Impala. Dean made his way to his car, giving a quick appreciative glance to the gleaming black finish, which he’d just detailed early this morning. Which was why he parked so far from the old house when they’d tracked the demon.  He didn’t want any ectoplasmic vomit, or some other nasty shit running his wax job.

“Look, just take me to the hotel, okay?”  Sam said. “ I need to get this shit off me, then you can go eat, drink, fuck, whatever the hell you want to do.”

Dean leaned back in his seat, now slightly concerned.

“Dude, is there something wrong? I mean, I know it got kinda messy back there, but she was just a demon, and pretty lousy one at that.”

Lie. She’d kicked their asses.

Sam ran a hand through his long shaggy hair and stared out the window.

“I don’t know, maybe…I think I might be a little burned out. On all of this…” Sam said.

A crooked smile formed on Dean’s lips.

“Burned out. What…like, a teacher or something? You need a summer vacation?”

“Forget it.” Sam said quickly.

“It’s not like you work in a cubicle, Sam.”

“I said forget it Dean, let’s just go okay?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders; he’d met his deep conversation quota for the day. Sam was always going through some kind of blue period; he’d been that way ever since they were kids. Which was fine, Dean realized that his brother wouldn’t stop analyzing shit to death a long time ago. But still, there were some days he when he wanted to turn his music up full blast and toss him on the side of the road, let him work out his issues with some fresh air and a road burned ass.

He’d never do that of course…but still…it was a nice thought.

“Hey man.” Dean said, trying to snap him out of his funk. “We should hit Vegas tomorrow, go to that club you like. The one with the big assed strippers.”

“That’s the club you like Dean.”

“Ah, no.” Dean shook his head while he turned the car onto the freeway. “Don’t put that on me, you’re the ass man Sam. Always have been.”

“I’m an ass man huh?”

“Big and juicy.”

“And what does that make you?”

The crooked smile was back.

“Hell, I’m equal opportunity. I can’t just pick one part, wouldn’t be fair to the rest of them.”

“That’s very noble of you Dean.”

“I have my moments.”

  Martha 

“How’s it coming Dr. Jones?”   

The Doctor was leaning over her shoulder, so close she could smell that odd sent of his, almost impossible to describe. It was otherworldly, slightly spicy, a bit smoky…a bit of everything really. Like he picked up a hint from each world he’d traveled, each person he’d come in contract with.

Of course, if The Doctor were human, that would be beyond disgusting, but he definitely wasn’t, not with those two hearts of his beating around in his chest. And she shouldn’t smell him, she didn’t do that anymore. They were mates, that was all, and mates don’t…smell, each other.

“You’re in my light.” Martha said quietly.

“There’s lights all over...” he responded, leaning in closer. He pointed to a bright green switch just in front of her.

“Did you fix that?” he said, slightly astonished. She couldn’t help the small grin that grew on her face.

“Yeah, I did.” She said. “It’s a communicator, or something, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” He said, rubbing a hand across his cropped brown hair, causing it to stand on end.

“We put these in for emergencies; Timelords could communicate when we ran into trouble. It broke ages ago, but I never bothered to fix it because…”

She watched his eyes darken a bit, and knew he was remembering again.  His world, his home. Gallifrey and the war that had destroyed it. Destroyed his people.  He was the only one left.

And now, because she’d been so damn curious, she fixed a useless communicator that only reminded him that he had no other Timelord to call. Now he was all broody, like her, which had never been her intent.

“Doctor…” she began, but he waved her away.

“It’s good, that you fixed it, can’t have things just sitting around broken and the like. No one wants that.”

He gave her that knowing smile of his, and she was sure he knew exactly what she was thinking, could see that knot resting in her stomach. Martha nodded and grabbed hold of the railing as the TARDIS shifted again. She was getting better at that; she didn’t even stumble this time.

“No, luck on the flux, eh?”

“No.” Martha sighed. “It would help if I had something to go on besides just flux. I mean it’s a nice name but…”

“Martha..” The Doctor interrupted, his eyes serious again.

“Oh, I wasn’t criticizing you really. I mean, I was, but I didn’t mean to. I was just saying that I need more to go on...”

“Martha, look at yourself.”

Her hands immediately went to her face, searching for any food bits from her dinner. She caught a glimpse of her hands and gasped as she stared at the bright green glow that enveloped them.

“What is that?” she cried. “Is it from the TARDIS?”

“I don’t know.” He said, grabbing both her arms.

“Well, figure it out!” she cried as it grew brighter. The light began to creep into her vision, and the TARDIS slowly began to fade away.

“Martha! Hold on to me. Take my hand.”

She heard him call out to her, but it was as if he were far away, at the end of a brightly glowing tunnel. Martha could feel her mouth moving, but she couldn’t hear the words, only felt the vibrations in her throat as she screamed his name.

He called again, so faint she could only make out a few words this time.

“I’ll find you.” he said. And she knew he would.

Then he was gone.

 Dean 

Dean stood at the counter of the diner, and gave a wave and a nod to the cute red headed waitress, who blushed in response.

He wondered if she blushed all over. He’d have to check that out later, just to be sure.

But first he had to take his suddenly whiny brother back to the hotel room. Sam had refused to even get out of the car, pointing silently to the blood on his face and clothes. Dean had shrugged and made agreeable noises, even though he really didn’t see what the big deal was. Just tell them it’s fucking strawberry jam, and go about your business.

“So, that’s two cheeseburger platters, with fries, and two slices of peach pie. Did I get everything?”

“Yep, that’s it.” Dean said cheerfully. “Good to see peach pie on the menu, been awhile since I had a nice, ripe peach to munch on.”

The blush grew stronger. Yeah, definitely blushes all over.

“Well, okay, I’ll just put your order in, it shouldn’t be too long.”

“Great.” Dean said, rubbing his hands together. He turned around, looking out the window at his brother, who remained firmly in his seat.

Dean smiled and gave him two thumbs up.

Pie, he mouthed silently.

Yet another eye roll. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed.

Fine. He’d eat both fucking pieces himself.

He sat down on the bar stool, scanning the local paper that someone had left on he counter. The stories were pretty routine, missing persons, car accidents, lawsuits. But he’d been a hunter long enough to know that an ordinary domestic dispute could be so much more, like evil possession more.

They’d found this last chick after her boyfriend turned up missing, normal occurrence on the surface, but Sam had noticed that the guy wasn’t the first kid to take a hike from the high school. Add to that the sudden winning streak of the football team and well, demon summoning wasn’t a big stretch.

The pussy little quarterback had spilled his guts pretty quickly, explaining how he’d summoned the demon to help his chances at a scholarship. The demon had jumped into the hottest body it could find, which happened to be the head cheerleader of course. Hence the string of missing, presumed dead jocks. Which wasn’t a big loss in his opinion, but jocks have parents too.

But now, all he wanted was to eat his food, then find a nice bar with a big T.V. and some passably hot females. But he had to deal with Sam first, as always. Maybe if they stopped by the liquor store, he could get him drunk enough to forget what he was bitching about, and be his wingman. Sam was an awesome wingman.

Dean stood up from the counter, his order brought to him by his adorable new friend, a big smile on her face.

“So what time do you get off?” Dean said as he took the food. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice slightly. “Or should I say what time do you want to get off?”

Her green eyes widened, and the blush faded as she suddenly paled.

“What?” Dean said. “Too far?”

She pointed wordlessly behind him, and he turned around, his eyes finding his car again. The takeout bags fell from his hands, and he stared at the bright green light shooting from the windows of the Impala, lighting the night sky.

Sam.

Dean rushed toward the door, his hand immediately going for the gun under his jacket.

“Sam.”  He shouted, stumbling down the front steps before quickly closing the distance between him and the passenger door.

He pulled frantically at the handle, averting his eyes from bright glow inside the car. The gun fell from his hands, as used both of them to grip the shiny metal.

“Sam!  Unlock the door!”

Dean gave the handle a final pull, before reaching for the gun he’d dropped to the ground. He was aiming the butt of the weapon at the glass when the door suddenly swung open, knocking him to the ground.

Dean felt a body fall on top of him, surprisingly light. Soft curves pressed into his chest, legs intertwined with his.

Definitely not Sam.

The light slowly faded, and his eyes gradually readjusted to the dimly lit parking lot. He lifted his head, his eyes taking in the thick dark hair, the smooth brown skin of his new companion.

She moaned softly before looking up, her dark eyes meeting his, and he could see her slowly processes her current situation. They laid there for a moment, his arms wrapped around her body, staring at each other in silence.

“Alright then.” She said finally with a clipped British accent. “Not what I expected, but on the bright side, not imploding inside a sun either.”

Dean shook his head, the crooked grin forming on his mouth.

“That has got to be the worst pick up line a chick’s ever said to me.”

 Meanwhile 

He watched the little girl brush her doll’s hair while humming a soft tune under her breath. To say the toy was beaten up was an understatement, its face as covered in black soot, the formerly blond corn silk tresses threadbare and grungy. A closer look revealed that one of the eyes was missing, giving the doll a wounded, maimed appearance that most people would find disturbing.

Well, he wasn’t most people of course. He’d seen countless horrors throughout his lifetime, and now beyond it. The condemned were all around him now, screaming, anguished, burning with pain. All begging for forgiveness. But not him, never him.

It wasn’t salvation he craved. It was vengeance.

The little girl looked up at him, and smiled. She was precious really, long dark hair, smooth pale skin. She wore a navy dress with a lacy white collar, complete with matching headband atop her head.

She was a smart looking kid, and he could have liked her if he actually liked children. And if she hadn’t been a particularly vicious hell demon. Tapered down the cuteness, that bit.

He watched her eyes slowly turn an opaque white, slightly glowing. She was looking through the gates, into the world beyond. The world of the living.

The world he wanted back.

“She has left him now.” The demon said, her voice small, childlike. “The dark one has fallen from the sky.”

“Well, lets hope she has a rough landing, yeah? Crack’s a few teeth or something?”

The demon giggled, its eyes returning to it human like form.

“Did I do good?”

“You did great pet, just like I told you.”

“You’re funny. Wanna play checkers?”

“Fuck no.”

The eyes turned black and he felt his chest began to slowly turn inward, crushing his lungs. 

“I wanna play checkers.” She said, her childlike voice growing deeper, and louder. So loud he felt his eardrums exploding. Again.

“I didn’t finish.” He ground out, and felt the pressure immediately cease. He coughed a bit, then straightened his shirt and tie before speaking.

“What I meant to say was fuck no, I prefer chess.”  His eyes drifted to a ratty chess board that appeared in the corner. She clapped her hands excitedly hurrying over to play.

“Oh, I’m really good at chess. My mommy tells me all the time.”

“I bet she does, Pet.” He said, fixing a smile on his face. As if the bitch had a mother.

He stopped her hand as she reached for the black pawn, ignoring the chill that ran through his body at the touch.

“Other side sweetheart.”

“You want the black ones then?”

“Oh, yes.” His smile widened. “Black is definitely my color.”  

He gave a quick laugh before his eyes fell on the doll again, lying beside the chess board. He grimaced.

“Put that away, yeah? It’s bad enough here without that thing winking at me.”

The demon shrugged, but she did as he asked. Which how it should be really. She might have the upper hand at the moment; this was her world, this hell dimension he was trapped in. All because he’d happened to die on this planet, instead of the countless others he’d traveled to. To say it wasn’t fair would be a vast understatement.

But it wasn’t fucking fair.

And yet… he was the Master.

 And he would rise again, just like he’d done countless times before. But he was smarter now, wiser. He’d been preoccupied with The Doctor, his brethren. The only other one of his kind.

He’d underestimated the girl. And she’d nearly destroyed him.

That wouldn’t happen, not again.

This time, Martha Jones would be dealt with straightaway. He could make the girl tremble before him, now that she’d been separated from her precious Doctor.

He’d accept nothing less when he ended her life. She would fear him again.

He’d make sure of it.