"There is something terribly wrong here," said the Doctor as he and Rose searched the empty streets of London, "'S not like everyone's gone on holiday, is it?"

"You think this is weird," said Rose, "When I was in the flat, it was Christmas.  And Mum didn't seem to know who you were..."

"Well, that last bit doesn't sound so bad," he replied jauntily, "if she doesn't know me, she can't harp on at me."

"Didn't even know who Egan is..."

"Ah, yes, of course, Egan!" The Doctor paused a moment, "Who is Egan?"

"Guess you wouldn't know, 'cause you haven't met him, but--" It was Rose's turn to stop in her tracks.  "You've got to be joking; this isn't right either..."

Rose sighed.  "Every thing's screwed up.  You can't know about Egan because Egan wasn't even born until after I lost you, only you weren't you, you were... the other Doctor?"

"What are you blathering on about?"

"I'm not sure I even know anymore.  Everything feels like deja vu, or a dream, or something..."

"Never had a dream like this... My dreams tend to be livelier."

Rose wrinkled her nose, "Stupid as it sounds, I tend to dream about you."

The Doctor smiled cheekily, "So do I!"

"Quit it," laughed Rose,  "I don't think I've ever seen you sleep!  Like you ever have time to dream..."

"Well," said the Doctor, grinning and pointing down the road, "dream or not, that looks solid enough."

There stood the TARDIS.  Rose knew now that it was real, because it felt real.  It was telling her over and over, to come on inside.  It would be just like old times, gallivanting about the universe, pickling alien plots of domination, discovering new worlds... with the occasional milk and biscuit run.

Grinning largely, the Doctor took out his key and opened the doors, leading the way into the real, living TARDIS.  Rose was so over-joyed, it was like the first time she'd gone on an adventure with the Doctor.  "So," he said, manning the controls, "Where're we going?"

Rose smiled and shrugged, "What about Barcelona?"

***

It didn't take long for the Doctor to find the castle.  It was large and white, sitting up on top of a hill surrounded by a thick forest and bordered on the north by great, snow-capped mountains.  He whistled through his teeth as he stood back to admire it.  With grand ramparts and romantic spires, it was a fairy-tale castle that would have taken Ludwig II to dream up.  Approaching along a well-traveled dirt road, the Doctor had to wonder if perhaps he had.

Above, a solitary crow circled.  It'd been following for a while now, flying around in a lazy arc, never going too far.  It seemed surprisingly nonchalant for a bird.  The Doctor said as much when it landed on a branch a little ways ahead and eyed him with mild interest, "Surely you've got something better to do than follow me around all afternoon..."

"You'd be surprised," said the bird.

The Doctor squinted at it.  "Didn't think crows could talk..."

It bristled at this a bit, "I'm a raven, not a crow."

"And ravens can?"

"I'm talking, aren't I?"

The Doctor felt silly, though not the silly he liked.  This was a silly he was not in control of. "Sorry."

The Raven shifted from foot to foot on the branch, "Heading up to the castle? I know the Kid's been expecting you."

"I am actually.  You've been talking to Abel and his charming brother I imagine."

"I try to avoid it when I can; Cain can be kind of intense, but they know things.  It's part of what they are I guess."  The Raven took wing once more, "Anyway, the name's Mathew."

"I'm the Doctor."

"Yeah," said Mathew, "that's what Cain told me, though he said you have a lot of other names too.  Some not quite as nice."

The Doctor flashed the raven a strained smile, "Let's just stick with the Doctor, shall we?"

“Alright,” said the raven, “I'm easy.”

Together, they traveled toward the castle in silence for a while, though the Doctor felt questions building, “So, what's it like, you know, being a bird?” he asked.

“Well,” said Mathew, “it's not bad.  There's the flying thing of course, which is pretty amazing and you can eat whatever you want to really, which isn't bad... What's it like, you know, being an alien?”

“Well,” said the Doctor, walking along jauntily, “there's the time and space travel bit, which is fantastic, and having two hearts is rather a plus, but it gets a tad lonely at times.”

“Yeah, I know how that is...”

“The lord of this castle...” said the Doctor, kicking a small stone out of the path, “fancies himself the Sandman, does he?”

Mathew made an odd noise, possibly constituting laughter, “A bit more than fancies,” he said, “he's got a lot of names too.  Though I don't know if any of them are as fearful as yours.”

***

The TARDIS wooshed and wurred as it always had, but the movement felt different.  The experience put the hairs on the back of Rose's arms on end, though the Doctor didn't seem disturbed in the least.  He was flicking switches and pressing buttons with his usual reckless abandon, and she held on as he did so and tried to avoid looking uncomfortable.

When the wild movement finally stopped, the Doctor threw open the doors to yet another new world.  Beyond the doorway were rolling hills, dotted with a clump of trees here and there, though the grass bending in the soft breeze was robin's egg blue and the sky above was violet with black clouds sailing overhead.  The trees were by far the most remarkable aspect of the landscape; they stood thirty feet tall, with big green trunks growing up into a crown of leaves in every color, all of them transparent and shiny, with black veins running through them.  Each leaf looked like a shard of stained glass.  Two dim suns hung in the sky, bright enough to warm the planet, but they cast the world in twilight.  “'S beautiful,” said Rose, taking a step outside, “where are we?”

The Doctor grinned, “I think I'll call it 'Jelly Baby 6',” he said, closing the doors as he went to join her.

“What sort of a name is that for a planet?” she asked incredulously, “And anyway, who are you to start naming planets?”

“Don't think there's anything wrong with naming a planet I just now made up.  Besides that, Jelly Baby 6 is a perfectly respectable name.  'S better than a lot of random letters and numbers like you lot seem to fancy.”

The wind swept through the trees, causing the leaves to twinkle and ring, very much as though they really were glass.  “What do you mean, a planet you just made up?  You can't just make up a planet, there was that whole big bang thingy right?  And anyway, it's a planet so...”

The Doctor's playful attitude vanished, “Rose, there's something very important that you don't know, and I'm going to have to explain it to you, and it's going to be a bit upsetting.  Thought this would be a better place than a deserted London.”

Rose didn't even know how to begin to respond so she just said, “What?”

“This isn't real, Rose,” said the Doctor, “this really is nothing but a dream.”

***

The castle gate was large and imposing, beautiful like the rest of it, but built to intimidate nonetheless.  Perched around the top were three great monsters, a dragon, a griffin and a hippogryph.  They stared down at the Doctor and Mathew with ancient, stony eyes.  “State your name and business,” said the dragon with a voice that reverberated off of the stone beneath the Doctor's feet and in his ribcage.

“I am the Doctor. I suppose I'm here to see the lord of the realm?”

There was a pause, and the guards of the gate fell still.  Then they seemed to come alive again, “You are expected,” said the dragon.  “Do not stray from the path, the Lord awaits you in the library.”

The Doctor nodded, and, not knowing what else to do, bowed.  “All right,” said Mathew, as they traveled up the path, “you're in.  And you're in luck; the Kid's in a fairly good mood today.”

They continued through the ornate and huge wooden doors into the great hall.  Its ceiling was several stories up and adorned with paintings in a classical style, all gods and goddesses, some of which the universe had long since forgotten.  In niches along the hall, great painted urns stood full of alien flowers, all colorful and sweet smelling and rare.  The marble floor was laid in a complex pattern of black and white, and woven rugs that seemed to shift designs lay in the center.  Despite these wonders, the Doctor continued on single-mindedly, though he couldn't help but wonder where the doors he could not go through lead.  Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw strange looking people, the likes of which even he had never seen.  There was even a man with the head of a rabbit, walking around with a woman who looked like she was of the French aristocracy.  The Doctor glanced at her, secretly wondering if perhaps he'd spotted Madame de Pompadour.  He was slightly disappointed when he realized he had not.  “You're doing better than most,” said Mathew, flying overhead, “a lot of people are stupid enough not to listen.  Just get caught up in things, I guess.”

The Doctor smiled a little.  He was many things, but stupid was not one of them.  Not only that, but he could feel the fierce energies of the dreamstuff even on the path.  It radiated through the walls, something raw and powerful, like a raging river that threatened to swallow him the second he made the wrong step.  Curiosity pulled at him from every direction, but above all, Rose was in trouble and certainly came first.

Sure enough, at the end of the great hall and through a pair of modest wooden doors, stood the most extensive library the Doctor had even seen.  The walls were lined with shelves that towered many stories, completely packed with books of all sizes.  Balconies held even more shelves and wings extended in each direction, housing more volumes than the Doctor had ever imagined had existed.  The ceiling seemed miles away and was topped with a mercury-glass dome through which stars and a very large moon glimmered.  

“How may I help you?” A tall man, very tall, with pointy ears, spectacles and an impeccable old suit stood a yard or so away and somehow the Doctor had failed to notice him.  His stature and tone were old-fashioned and respectable and he seemed ancient, and yet did not look it.  He had the look of wisdom that learned men had strived for since the beginning of knowledge.  “Is there anything particular you are looking for, or are you just browsing...?” the last word was drawn out with mild disagreement.

“Hey Lucien,” said Mathew, finding a perch on the back of an old high-backed chair, “long time, no see.”

The Doctor barely managed to pull himself away from the spectacle of what must have been every book in the universe.  “Where did you get all of these?” he asked, utterly in awe.

“These are the books that never were.” Lucien straightened his tie, though it had already been perfectly straight.  “ Works imagined in spare moments and during delusions of glory.  We have numerous autobiographies, novels their authors never got around to writing, passing day dreams... the collection continues to grow.”

“Amazing.”

“Now, as I said, are you looking for anything in particular?”

“We're here to see the Kid,” said the raven, preening his feathers, “This is the Doctor.”

The librarian looked slightly disappointed.  “He is in the west wing, young girls' diaries, I believe.  His sister and brother-sister are there as well, though he is willing to grant an audience.”

“Thanks, Lucien.” said Mathew, fluttering up to perch on the Doctor's shoulder, “we'll go see him now, if you don't mind.”

“Don't forget, Mathew,” said Lucien, “you still have that book of poetry out.  I can't lend you another until it is returned.”

“I got it,” replied the raven as the Doctor made his way toward the west wing.  “I gotta say though,” he said, under his breath, “if Desire is here, an overdue book is the very last thing any of us need to worry about.”