The 11th Doctor x Reader: Just A Little Life Left (SPN, DW crossover)

Chapter 16

Dean leans back against the wall of the spa and lets out a long exhale. "How the hell did we get here Sam? Running around with aliens to get rid of aliens- giant eyeball aliens- and now we're sitting in a spa inside an infinitely roomed time machine,"

"Fricken' I know our lives are crazy and all but I think I might just retire after this," Sam replies with a sigh.

"Ha. I wish."

They sit there silently for a minute before Sam speaks up once more. "But, we could Dean, we can retire, you can retire. There are other hunters out the-"

"I am not stopping until I make sure that wherever these crappy monsters come from stay there. Okay, Sammy, I have to make Dad proud."

"Dad never cared about us Dean, you don't have to do this for him. You don't need his approval, dead or alive." At this, Dean shoots up slinging his towel over his shoulder and exits the hot room, a cold look running over his features.

After Dean's sharp exit, Sam buries his head in his hands letting out a deep exhale.
__________

The air is cool, condensation crept up the tall metal pillars that lined the halls of the Sclararin ship. Y/N composes herself, keeping a tight grip on the tray of freshly baked croissants. She looks back at the space where the TARDIS had just dematerialised, her hearts constricting in fear. "I can do this. This is what I'm good at. I won't get hurt. I won't die. I can do this," She mumbles, the affirmations easing her fears. She takes a step forward. Then another. And another. Until she is standing in front of a bright green ballroom, filled with Sclararin people dressed in damp thin robes, each robe a different shade of Fuchsia. The room comes to a standstill as she clears her throat, eyeballs turning to her.

Y/N surveys the crowd. "I deeply apologise for the way my friends have treated you," the eyes look at her intently. "That being said, you had no right to treat my friends, and this planet that way. I'm not here to reprimand you nor am I here to force a friendship between your people or that of my friends. I am here to make a compromise and offer you a token of peace. Freshly baked peace," She offers up the tray of steaming croissants and places them on a tall oddly shaped table. The aliens turn and murmur to each other, whispering their suspicions of the woman. The chief silences the crowd and stands.

"Your friends put a hole in the shoulder of my finest chefs. Why should we accept this offering? You said it yourself, there are consequences to messing with you. But what consequences I wonder? The only thing you have that is proven to be a threat is the strange weapon held by your friends, you have nothing else. Not to mention that this planet does not belong to you, why should we care what you have to say?" The room nods in agreement.

"You don't have to accept the offering. But I must mention that they don't taste the same cold, so eat up while they're still hot. This may not be my planet but it isn't yours either. I don't know what happened to your planet, but it does not give you a free pass to interfere with an underdeveloped planet. In fact, I should contact the Shadow Proclamation to have you properly dealt with. But I am trying my best to be diplomatic, so I won't. Let's talk about your feast, shall we?" The chief's pupil narrows. "This feast must be important to your culture, which you are seemingly trying to keep alive, correct?" He nods.

"I understand the importance of keeping one's culture alive, especially given that I and my husband are the only ones left to uphold our culture. However, Earth is not the place to victimise for this feast. You'll only destroy what little you have left. I suggest you adapt this feast, culture is not just about upholding old traditions, but adapting and growing old traditions to fit newer times. Whatever you have lost will still stand in your memories, and the stories you tell to your descendants. Your culture will thrive through that, but I cannot allow this feast to continue. Especially if you are using this planet to feed this event.

"Despite acts of violence already committed by you and my friends, I don't want to end this dispute violently. So please, for the sake of your people, and all you have left, leave this planet. Find an uninhabited place to start anew and create new rituals, adapt old rituals, and continue your culture."

The room is silent.

Silent.

Silent.

Silent.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The chief makes his way through the crowd, he stops in front of the table which held the tray of croissants. He reaches out and gently picks one up. He brings it to the base of his head and takes a bite. His pupil blows wide. The chief turns to his people. "The new Feast of Marjblok!" The crowd cheers and rushes to the table eager to get a taste of a croissant. The chief turns back to Y/N. "We will leave. First, you must tell us how you made these,"

Y/N grins. "Just as long as you welcome back the guy you exiled."

"Deal."