#secretsprotectus

It reminds me of someone. Artie's words still echoed in Clara's head as she headed down the stairs, her fingers running over the spine of the book. Immediately once those words had left his lips, Clara had put it together. She was surprised she hadn't thought of it before, but the last time she had laid eyes on the book she was almost uploaded. After that, any similarities that came out at her now had been pushed far in the back of her mind. She stopped on the bottom step, pausing as she took in the title again. Summer Falls, had been one of her favorite books since she had stumbled across it. She had found it beneath a pile of dusty old books, and she had gotten the oddest feeling when she started pulling the books off one by one until she found it. 

Between the gift giving, the pretty Christmas lights hung up, the carolers, and the baking, Christmas was easily Clara's favorite holiday and the saddest holiday as well. It was her mother's favorite holiday. Her and her mother would spend hours in the kitchen, talking about everything while baking. Her dad wearing the tackiest Christmas sweaters. Dancing around in tinsel when she was a little girl when they use to decorate the tree together because she thought it was pretty. She always visited her father now on Christmas, but things were never the same. Living with the Maitlands, however, had made it all more exciting and fun. She tried to bring in a few of her own Christmas traditions and incorporated things that Angie and Artie liked to do. Christmas meant so much more to her when they were happy. 

It was still far away but today was an important day. Today was the day they were going to decorate the tree. Clara had been disappointed to learn that George had to go off for his job so he wouldn't be able to join the kids in decorating. Although they never said it, she could tell they were more than a little bummed. She made it up to them by buying a real Christmas tree this time something that they never had. The fake one hidden somewhere in the garage could be left there for one more year. They were messy and she'd do all the cleaning up, but it would be worth it. 

She had thought it was just going to be her, the kids, and the Doctor, but after recently talking to a friend, she had invited him along as well. Samandriel had seemed more than a little confused about the whole Christmas traditions, and more importantly, he was seemingly alone and Clara believed no one should be alone. Even if he was an angel. Explaining Samandriel had been a little hard since Clara didn't fully understand everything about angels and she had only met a handful. Gabriel, the terrible one she had met at the masquerade ball, Anna, and Samandriel, the one she had taught how to dance at the ball as well. There was something about him that made her want to keep her eyes on him and make sure he was doing okay. He had been the first to talk to her about angels and demons and the like, and he was one of the two she felt confident enough to have around. Because honestly, one would think angels were all nice but that was just rubbish. 

When she woke up, her day started off by finally purchasing a tree stand. They had gotten the tree a day ago and it needed to be put up. She had been counting on George, Artie, and the Doctor to be able put it up, but that was nixed when George left. She wasn't sure how much she'd be able to help lift a tree, but now that Samandriel was coming she'd hope he'd be able to help more than she could. After she purchased the tree stand, she was in the kitchen. She had planned the day to be able to bake and decorate the tree. With her light blue snowflake pattern apron on, she moved through the kitchen, getting out ingredients. Artie lingered near the counter ready to help with his sleeves rolled up, and Angie had already made her request for no souffles today which wasn't on the menu (surprisingly) today. 

Clara had thought that with burying her father, she might have had a little time to recover. She was wrong. The collector had come for the money that was due like he always did, and she had pleaded for him to give her a few days. All the money that her father had for the payment had been used burying him, and she did not have enough to make the payment that her father made every month that allowed them to live there in that house. The collector had gone, but he came back with men to seize everything. She was only granted a few spare coins, a few dresses, the old sick horse in the yard, and her mother's locket which was the only thing she possessed that meant anything to her. 

The house and everything else had been taken, and it turned out to be not enough to pay the debt that her parents had acquired. It meant that she could not leave until the debt was paid or she would be charged. She had no idea what the debt had been for nor did she have any means to pay for it. What the men had done was tell her if she didn't have things sorted out by the morning, she would be taken. Even she knew that it was a fight she could not win. Clara tried to search for a job with the hopefulness that perhaps she could get some money to pay them off a little and give them more later, but no place seemed to want her. At a tavern that Clara surely thought she could work at, they declined her. It was dark by the time Clara realized what her only option was left. She had to talk to the thing that the debt was owed to. 

She had only heard whispers about the monster that lived in the old, stone house near the woods. No one had ever seen the monster's face so all the rumors were just rumors. Some described him as a dragon, some with dark fur and large yellow teeth, and others as a creature that hid in the showers with red eyes staring back. As she led the blind horse down the path, the wind picked up, blowing her cloak out and her hood up making her hair go in her face. Storm clouds rolled in slowly, lightening lighting up the area in quick bursts and thunder booming hard enough to feel it resonating in her bones. Her horse spooked several times and it only slowly caused her fear to build. 

The large house itself looked almost desolate. She didn't know how someone could live here, but then she corrected herself that whatever lived her was a monster. This was her only option left. She couldn't make a plea to the collector so perhaps a plea to person it was owed to would work. She was about to tie her horse up when the thunder cracked and he was spooked again, rising up on his hind legs. She had to move out of his way to make sure she wasn't hit, falling down on the ground as a gust of wind brought some rain her way. Just a tiny sprinkle, which meant the rain was coming soon. The horse bolted away from her, and she was like that, Clara was at the mercy of the monster. 

She tried to pull up her hood, but fighting the wind was a futile attempt and she gave up quickly. She walked over to the wood doors, carved beautifully, and stared at the knocker. Her heart drummed hard against her chest and she found herself reaching up to touch the locket clasped around her neck for comfort. Without another thought (since she was sure in a moment she'd turn and run), she grabbed the knocker and banged it against the door three times. 

It seemed ridiculously loud compared to the storm brewing above her. 

Jack flipped through the newspaper as he walked down the street. He was looking for new disappearances, but there was nothing new in the papers, which was odd. He frowned turning the page, oblivious to where he was going.  A moment later, he ran smack into another person, sending them both to the ground. He shook his head, standing up quickly and then moving to help the other man to his feet, "Whoops, sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, my fault." He tried to lay his best charm on the words, not wanting to get into a petty fight with a civilian. 

Sleeping with the Doctor had taken some getting used to. Clara had never had to really share her bed before with another person, and she tried to reside herself to just staying on one side of the bed. That didn't always end up working out, however, as Clara tended to move in her sleep. There were times when she woke up with a limb or two entangled with the other person in her bed, or she had just rolled over close to the warmth of the other person. Why was it that the opposite sex just seemed to radiate heat? There was reasons, however, that she moved more during the night than she ever did before. After Trenzalore, it had taken a lot to get use to the nightmares she kept having.

When she was awake, the memories of past echos would occasionally float into her train of thought, but at night they came at full strength determined to relive themselves. The dreams themselves were incredibly vivid and at times rather exciting, but they all ended the same way. She died. She would dream of alien moons and bizarre worlds, of certain decades on the earth, and much more. Some weren't absolutely terrible in the way they ended, but there were a few that made her cry out in her sleep. One of them was happening tonight. 

It was a recurring dream that had seemed to disappear for awhile after she had found the Doctor. No matter how it started, whether it was on the part of the ship that broke apart and separated from the other half of the starliner, or started when Oswin began to her descent down a shaft, it always lead Clara to the worst part and stayed there until she woke up sobbing and the words, "I don't know where I am." tumbling out. Every time the dream came, Clara was hypersensitive in her dream state. She was Oswin in her dreams, and she felt everything. Her pleading words and the fire on her skin that felt absolutely real. 

"I am not a Dalek! I'm human!" Oswin's voice screamed in the dream, her voice. The screaming was the worst part. Her pleading with the Daleks, her pleading with herself, she was human, and all the while knowing that it was useless. Even in her dream, Clara could not do anything to change it. She had to ride the nightmare out. She was never aware of her arms twitching and her head turning, and the whimper that escaped her lips during the dream. The tears spilling from closed eyes, though she did know when she woke up her cheeks were wet. 

As expected as it was, Death could not help but feel the annoyance that he felt when there had been no progress concerning what was doing this. He had a nice conversation with an appliance, she did not like the term but that was what she was to him, about what it could possibly be. He would not, however, put his entire faith on her words until it was said by a much more reliable source. He had hoped the Winchesters could do something about it, but this might have been far above their league which really meant that they would try and handle it. They always had a knack for getting into things that was much bigger than they were. Not only was the lack of any progression irritating, but the fact that things were happening around London and seemingly affecting him as well. Throughout all of his existence so far, nothing had ever affected him as much as anything did within the short time span he arrived in London. That settled it for him.

He did not bother most creatures, instead letting them live their lives until it was his turn to finish it. His reapers were getting him anywhere and there was someone who possibly could. It did not mean he enjoyed it. Really, all Death had to do was flick his wrist, a twist of his ring, and he could sit back and watch the United Kingdom and everything in it be destroyed. He had devastated bigger planets and flooded this one, a few islands would be absolutely nothing to him. He had almost destroyed Chicago once. However, he knew that when his friend decided to make an appearance, he would not be appeased that instead of figuring out what stumped Death he took the easy way out. And that was an annoying conversation he'd rather not have.

That was what lead him to a simply ordinary house, knocking on the door. A young woman answered the door, Clara Oswald he knew immediately, as she asked him if she could help him. At that moment, a tea kettle in the background whistled loudly. She apologized, asking if she could run and get that off the stove before he could even answer her question. He watched her hurry off towards the sound, stepping into the house uninvited and closing the door behind him. The whistling stopped and she came out of the kitchen, only to step back in shock when she realized he had already entered the living room. She only got a word out before he snapped his fingers. Her eyes closed and she immediately fell backwards onto the floor. He could hear the faint noises of two people falling on the floor upstairs. He had only froze them. They weren't dead, but they would appear that way.

Despite the blanket she had her lap and leaning against the warm body of the time lord beside her on the couch, Clara couldn't stop being cold. Perhaps she was becoming sick with something, or maybe it was just the usual as always. She was always cold. George liked to say it was because she had no meat on her. Whether that was true or not, it didn't help her any. After trying to get the blanket situated on her to cover her properly, she finally gave up and moved her legs out from under her. She went to the nearest closet to the door, where a few of her favorite jackets and sweaters hung. Picking a warm sweater, she pulled it on and barely had closed the door when there was a knock at the door. 

Uhg, the weather had been horrid recently.  River strode down the familiar side walk, the bottom half of her blue jeans tucked into her black boots, safe from the water splashing up as she went.  She was hidden from view by most from the large black umbrella separating her now frizzier curls from the downpour.  Her  trench coat how ever had become rather heavy as the bottom became a deep brown, saturated through and through.