#crossroad!verse

Leave a 〄 in my askbox and I’ll tell you the first three words that come to my character’s mind at the thought of yours.

"Please don’t  l e a v e

         𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇.

        ’Cos you can’t—

The Doctor was used to outliving friends, outliving everyone he ever cared about. His family, people he loved— but for the first time in his life he thought he wouldn't really have to deal with that anymore. His time was short, so short, but at least he thought it meant that he wouldn't be the one left behind anymore.

It had never even occurred to the Doctor that he might lose Castiel. He was an angel for Christ's sake, millennia older than even most Time Lords he knew of, pretty much indestructible.

It had been a fight, and he didn't know who the enemy was (She looked human?) but the Doctor wasn't worried because Castiel had been at his side. But then things had gone terribly, terribly wrong and there had been this strange, short silver blade, then a brilliant, blinding blue light. Then Castiel on the ground with the ashes of invisible wings splayed across the floor—

Nothing but silence. Their attacker was gone and—

"Castiel!"

He didn't know what the wings meant but it couldn't be good. He was at his friend's side then, on his knees and pulling the Angel into his arms, checking for a pulse and finding none but do angels even have pulses!? Maybe they don't, maybe he's just really injured—

"No, no, dammit! For God's sake don't— don't do this to me. How can you die? You're an angel! This isn't funny!" 

He looked at the wound, a clean stab through the chest that looks like it had been burned and suddenly things clicked in place with the charred ashes and he finally accepted that they were the remains of Castiel's wings.

He was gone.

---

He'd picked up the blade that had killed Castiel and hunted down the bastard. The fight had left it wounded so they couldn't get far. It made a mistake in leaving the Doctor alive as it fled, because there was hell to pay.

The blade was surprisingly light and unfamiliar in his hands, but he picked up the nuisances of its weight quickly enough as he followed the trail, twirling the metallic piece in his hand with increasing familiarity until he finally found the creature huddled at the end of an alleyway, spilling bright blue light from her abdomen.

It scoffed at first before the Doctor pinned it and made good use of the blade, finding that it hurt the creature— excruciatingly, from its screams. It held a stubborn pride though and revealed itself to be another angel. Unable to pry out any information, any way of saving his friend, the Doctor finally ended the creature's life, burning another set of wings onto the pavement and walls.

---

The first and only time the Doctor prayed.

He believed in you. He believed in you in a way that always confused me because you are never there. Because I've only ever seen you take and leave behind a mess for others to clean up and— how is any of this fair? Maybe you've never been kind to me because I'm not from your world or maybe you were never even involved with me but you can't just let this happen to Castiel.

He believed in you, he trusted you. He fought for you.

Send ☭ for a vs. battle quote to your muse

He jumped a bit when a passing stranger grabbed him by the arm, more than ready to snap at the man until he asked a question. The Doctor turned to look at the roped-off, charred buildings that lined this section of the street.

Kitchen

Bedroom

Workshop

Laundry r

Send me “Last Words” for a letter my character intended for yours to read only after mine has died.

It was hard to know the exact date it’d be, with the travelling that they do but he had ways around that. He calibrated a timer in the Tardis to follow his timeline, and he’d check on it every few months just to make sure that it was still accurate -as if the Tardis would be off. But he didn’t want to mess this up, for it to show up earlier or late because she needed to hear this at a very specific time.

He left a recording, a 3D holographic image of him very much like the one that had once said goodbye to her on satellite five. He re-recorded it every once in a while, adding to it, changing it because it never felt quite right or complete.

It probably won’t ever be.

First of all, I’m not going to apologize.

He stood firmly by the console, staring at the spot she’d probably be, by the main controls. Maybe to go after him, despite all his attempts to keep her away. Maybe she did find him and she was now clinging to his dead body. He tried his best not to think about that.

Okay, no, that’s a lie, I’m really sorry for putting you through this, It’s—

His voice cracks just a bit and he clears his throat. He never liked doing this, these recordings. They scared the crap out of him, which is why he keeps redoing it. Learning to hide that fear because he had to made her believe his words.

It’s not fair to you. I’m sorry I can’t help make it not hurt and I’m sorry for lying to you, and all that arguing and being a stubborn twat.

He took a deep breath, resisting the urge to look away.

But I’m not sorry for having taken the deal. Fifteen years. Fifteen wonderful, brilliant years and they were the best in all nine hundred. No, really, I mean it. It was worth every moment, even the bumps.

Oh, he hoped that she’d take some of this to heart. That she’d believe him in this so that he can go knowing that he left her some measure of comfort and acceptance. That she wouldn’t think too hard about the Hell he was in. He doesn’t mention it, because he knew there was nothing he could say to soften that particular bit.

I know it’s hard, but keeping living. There’s still so much more out there for you. So do this one last thing for me, yeah? Have a good life, go out there and have a fantastic, brilliant life.

His hand hovered over a button on the console, hesitating, wondering if these were the right last words. There was so many things to say but not all of them were right.

Rose Tyler—

Those three cursed words caught in his throat. No. No, that wasn’t what he needed to leave her with. That wasn’t fair, to remind her of her loss. He didn’t have to say it, as much as he wanted to. She knew.

Thank you.

Ever since Rose came back, life has gone back to normal, mostly. Her and her family has all bought his explanation for how he had brought her back with the Tardis, not wanting to burden them with the knowledge of what he really did. It felt unclean, wrong, but it didn't matter because she was alive.

Still, hiding it from others didn't mean keeping himself in the dark either. He'd been pouring over lore, but he was vastly unequipped to sift through all the fiction for the grains of truth he needed. So he began looking for 'experts' and a lot of them were shams, but one name kept popping up; Winchester. It took a lot of digging, the brothers good at covering their trails but no one could hide perfectly, not from the combined resources of Torchwood and U.N.I.T (he might have hacked into a few databases).

Eventually he had a location and parked the Tardis outside a pub somewhere in the states, and made his way inside. It was stay light out so the place wasn't crowded and it didn't take long for him to see the single, well-built man sitting at the bar. The Doctor approached him, taking a cautious seat next to the Hunter and waving the barkeeper over for a drink himself. he had a feeling he might need it.