The year is 2013.

Set before the angels fell, about midway through Season 8. The Winchesters aren't bothered about the trials yet, they aren't worried about main plot-driving villains, and Cas is still an angel who helps them out once in a while. Basically just ignoring all the plot and having an adventure because fuck plotlines.

Also set after the Name of the Doctor, but before the 50th.

For my secret santa, Maren.

The most wonderful sound in the universe echoed through my ears.

I was in my bedroom. Normally, one would be afraid if a strange man came into your room in a teleporting blue box, but I was pretty far from normal.

Those brilliant blue doors opened and I rushed in, taking the Doctor by surprise as I smothered him with an enthusiastic hug. I was a hugger. The thing about the Doctor is that he really doesn't mind physical contact. Lucky for him and lucky for me- except that time he 'soothingly' put his hand on my inner leg once, claiming his species 'did it all the time'. We don't talk about it anymore.

The Doctor let go of me and kissed both of my cheeks. Laughing, I took off my leather jacket and hung it on one of the levers on the console, which the Doctor clearly disapproved of, considering his sour-lemon face.

"So.." I started. "Are we actually going to go anywhere, are are we just gonna stay here and talk about stuff? Because if you want to chat, we could do it in my bedroom, I guess."

The Doctor absentmindedly flicked a couple of switches. "Nah. Let's go to Semtis 3- I hear the ice clowns are fantastic! Or, fancy a trip to the African plains in 1902? I believe I left an Egyptian queen and a sexist game hunter there a while ago..."

I let him ramble on for a few more minutes about places all around the universe, letting the pleasing tone of his voice wash through my mind.

Then, some sort of noise interrupted my thoughts. It was extraordinarily loud, and I winced. It was quite like the TARDIS sound, but with a hint of.. melody underneath, like some rock song. But it can't be..

I looked over to the Doctor, but he was still talking, oblivious to whatever was happening.

I whimpered as it grew louder still. What the hell is happening to me?

"Clara?" the Doctor said distractedly, before noticing me fall to the ground. He rushed to my side and held my head in his hands. "What's wrong?"

"I.. I can hear something." My hands went to my ears. The sound was much more distinguishable, but it was deafening.

"What is it you hear?" the Doctor questioned, looking straight into my eyes.

I tried to push myself upwards but I found I could not stand. My muscles burned with strain.

"It's the sound... of Metallica?"

The world went black.

When I came to, I couldn't believe it. I was sitting in the backseat of a car, while gray fields stretched for miles outside the window. It was about noon, and the sun cast pale light across the dry autumn grass.

Oh, and two guys were singing along to Metallica in the front two seats. Well, I say singing. More like screaming.

They didn't notice me, so I did what the Doctor was always telling me to do- Observe.

I was clearly not in Britain- the driver's seat was on the wrong side.

There were two men sitting in front of me, singing out-of-tune to some song I just barely recognized- I'd a girlfriend in Year 10 who always listened to heavy metal bands, and I had to learn the difference between them just to stay in a relationship with her.

The men were large and beefy, and I could tell they were smiling through the song, laughing at each other's failed attempts at harmonies. They were either best friends or boyfriends, I couldn't decide.

The man in the driver's seat was about 30, and he had sandy brown hair. I could just about see his face in the mirror- he was handsome, with green eyes and a cheery smile, his face dusted lightly with freckles. He was wearing a crinkled leather jacket with the collar up- I immediately pictured him as the kind of guy who picks loads of fights in pubs but still has good morals at heart.

The other man was taller but seemed younger, with shaggy, long brown hair, broad shoulders and a blue plaid shirt. I couldn't see his face, but he definitely looked imposing to me. He was twiddling a shiny object between his fingers as he sang. After a few seconds, I realized it was a knife.

I made some sort of incoherent gasping noise at this revelation, only to have that exact knife pointed at my nose half a millisecond later.

Damnit.