It's all AU.

Koschei looked up from his book with caution. "Did we meet when I first got here?" he asked the Doctor in a black leather jacket.

Well, there had been talk of poisoning tea. He'd assumed that was a joke. Now he wasn't so sure.

The old town seemed to have a large nocturnal population. Larger than the diurnal one, anyway. That was probably why the Doctor had shifted his sleep schedule to allow him to wander the streets in the late evening. The most fascinating creatures seemed to be around then.

One of them he'd been watching for a while, a not-human with long, unusually coloured hair, and a habit of hiding behind it. Even more unusual when he stopped in the moonlight, and - yes, there, something in the stillness. "Vampire," he concluded, tone laced with satisfaction.

The silver was rushing through his veins and he welcomed the sweet oblivion of death. He'd been parted from Sonja too long.

Oblivion came, followed by pain, pain akin to that of shifting back, a human form forced upon your spirit. He opened his eyes, growling still, lost and confused. Surely death did not lead to a hotel suite. Surely his heart should not be beating still. The place smelled wrong, felt wrong, his shirt was ripped and bloody, the smell of silver clung to him. He had died, and been taken here, to be brought back to life.

He erupted into the hallway, expecting an attack any second, but reached the stairs without encountering anyone. He jumped down them a flight of stairs at a time, only to find himself face to face with someone a few floors down.

"Where are we?" he asked, his tone entirely more polite than the wolf raging inside him demanded.

Just another day, stuck in the middle of nowhere, cut off from everything he knew, surrounded by people and things that apparently knew him. The Doctor was in a bad mood.

One that was shaken when he caught sense of someone different. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing as he stared at the harmless looking blond man. "You're not human."

And some days didn't go so well.

She'd played hard, too hard, and was tired. Her shields were slipping, she was inundated with thoughts and emotions and psychic static on every side, which was frustrating, which was exhausting, which. It was a vicious cycle. She just wanted to go somewhere quiet or get close to someone who could help her hide, but focusing was harder than it had been in weeks.

She was on the verge of crying. Or mentally screaming for help, which she didn't want to do because she'd been *fine*, she could do this. She felt about two.

Logic was against it. Odds were against it. And yet, when the Doctor caught sight of a familiar blonde head, he couldn't help turning, stopping, squinting, and then running towards her. "Rose!"

Jack had found a 1940s-style dance hall (there wasn't much you couldn't find in New New York, especially this somewhat psychically-sensitive one). He'd had a grand evening dancing and flirting with the more or less real patrons of the dance hall, and was wandering out of the hall with a girl under each arm, both laughing at the outrageous story he'd just told them, when he caught sight of the Doctor across the street. Not his - definitely not his, unless the Master had somehow managed to make him regress a regeneration - but the first he'd seen here with that face. And a face that just fitted his evening.

"Hey, Doc!" he called, sending the girls back inside with a wink and a pat on the rump and crossing the street instead. "It's goood to see you!"

Donna was peering at an oddly shaped glass building, across the street.

"One time I could use some babble to explain, he's nowhere to be seen," she grumbled to herself outloud.

Pansy stopped abruptly, a startled expression on her face a moment before she schooled it to polite disinterest as she turned on her heel, looking at where she was. Without the tug of a port-key, apparently, and someplace that certainly didn't look like any wizarding place she could recognize as such.

Shaking her head, she pulled her wand from her handbag, balancing it on her palm as she murmured the point-me spell, searching for the nearest train station. If nothing else, even a Muggle train station would give her an idea where she was. As her wand continued to spin lazily, Pansy frowned slightly, and closed her hand around it again.

"That's unexpected," she said softly.