Martha Jones
In many ways, Martha wasn't sure how she had managed to get through the past few days. Two weeks, near enough. She had focused on other things as much as possible, looking after the Doctor, spending time clinging to Jack, attempts at joking with Simon. Hollow attempts maybe, but she had been almost impressed with herself for trying. She had patched up injuries from the main battle, all along just hoping for some answer to come out from the sky.
Or, well, a demon. Apparently. When Crowley had come up with the plan, there had been no doubt in her mind she would take part. She didn't even feel any doubt about who she was there for. Rose had others, she had the Doctor, she had Guy, she had so many friends who loved her. Martha was there for Tony. Completely and utterly.
When the day of the ritual happened, she didn't even feel nervous, just held out her hand without hesitation and didn't flinch as the blade cut into her palm and drops of blood fell into the bowl. "Agent Anthony DiNozzo."
She focused all her thoughts on Tony. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the way she so comfortably fitted against his shoulder when they were curled up together watching movies. The sound of his laughter, how he would flirt and banter with her. The way she felt about him. A love she hadn't been looking for, but had crept up on her anyway, that she had never truly expressed and so desperately wanted the chance to say now.