Clara,

I'm so sorry for what I'm doing to you. You've been the greatest friend I could possibly ask for. But there comes a time, in everyone's life, where they have to say 'goodbye.'

For us, today is that day.

I can't think about what I'm doing. I just have to do it. Things have gotten rather dangerous lately with Missy running about, and I can't bear the thought of losing you as I already have so many times.

Perhaps one day we'll meet again. Until that day arrives, if I'm ever lucky enough for it to, farewell, my Impossible Girl.

The Doctor.

Clara stood in shock, the lattes dropping from her hand as she read the letter over and over again after finding it in this exact spot where she left the TARDIS not ten minutes ago, with the Doctor inside.

She wasn't exactly sure where she was. Somewhere in America in present day. Missouri, she thought, but how could she be sure?

It was getting dark, and storm clouds formed overhead. She looked up, the first drop of rain hitting her face, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel anything, other than . . .

Anger.

Anger and pain swirled in her stomach. He left her? Why? What had she done? Had she said something? Done something? Why was this happening?

She looked behind her. The only thing around was a diner and a gas station. Her shoulders slumped as the diners 'open' sign flickered off. The rain came down, steady and beating against her skin. Crumpling the note up and shoving in her pocket, she pulled her hood up and began walked down the road – surely she'd find something eventually.

No cars, no lights, nothing. She patted her pockets, and she felt a feeling of dread. She'd left her phone and wallet in the TARDIS.

No cash. No identification. No phone. No light. Nothing but an empty highway, a vague note, and her tears.

She jumped, startled, when there was a strike of lightening not too far off, hitting a tree. Shuddering as the wind picked up, she turned around, wondering if she could make it back to the diner. Perhaps they'd let her in if she explained her situation . . .

She let out a squeak as she tripped in the pitch black. She landed hard on the ground, feeling her stocking rip as her leg hit the asphalt at an awkward angle. She cursed, looking up at the sky.

"Is this what you want!" she screamed in anger. "This?"

The thunder rumbled in response.

She grumbled, standing, and limping down the road. The rain was coming down so hard, she almost didn't hear the rumbling engine behind her, or see the headlights coming up on her.

The car rolled to a stop beside her, and a man about her age rolled down the passenger window. "Hey, you alright?" he called.

"Fine!" she called back, continuing to limp, trying to look as un-pathetic as possible.

"You sure?" the car stayed beside her at a slow pace. "Because, uh, in case you didn't notice, you're bleeding!"

Clara frowned, looking down. There was a long, bloody scrape on her leg where she fell. She hadn't even felt it with all the distraction.

"It's just a scrape!" she called over the rain. "I'm fine."

"Look, let us give you a ride. The nearest town isn't for another twenty miles, at least."

She chuckled humorlessly. Of course it wasn't. How could this get any worse?

She shivered, though, as a gust of air hit her. She wrapped her arms around herself, thinking.

"We don't bite!" the man called.

Clara weighed her options. Either she could keep walking, until she was run over or caught her death, or she could risk getting into the car with a complete stranger.

Well, she'd been in worse situations than a few regular people in an old car.

She nodded, and the car came to a stop. She opened the back door, rushing in, and plopped down on the seat, slamming the door. She rubbed her arms, trying to get warm, and looked up . . .

To find two men who looked like they'd stepped straight out of a Chippendale's catalog.

"Dean, turn the heater on," the one who'd talked to her earlier said. The driver flipped the heat on, and the other one took his coat off, handing it to Clara. "Here. This should help warm you up."

She cautiously took it, draping it around her and not taking her eyes away, even as the car started moving. The one she'd been speaking to had a kind face and warm eyes, the color of sunshine through amber. His hair was just above his shoulders, also wet but drying.

His companion had short, dark blonde hair, and the greenest, sharpest eyes she'd ever seen. He glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, and cranked the heat up.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"No problem," the one in the passenger seat said. "I'm Sam; this is my brother, Dean."

"Hey," Dean greeted her.

"Clara," she said, pulling the coat tighter around her.

"Where are you headed?" Dean asked.

"I – don't know," she said. "I was kinda just . . . dropped off here. It's a long story," she said quickly when Sam raised his eyebrows. "I don't actually know where I am."

"Kansas," Dean said.

"Do you need help? A phone, or something?" Sam asked.

Who would she call? She didn't even know any of her former coworkers numbers. They were all in her phone, on the TARDIS. And she didn't have any cash for a place to sleep.

"I just need someplace to go," she said. "Free. A shelter, or something. I – my money is gone. I don't have a thing."

Sam and Dean shared a look, and a silent conversation it seemed. Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dean gave a reluctant shake of his head. Sam gave him a look, and Dean sighed shrugged, giving a little nod.

"Look, our place isn't too far from here," Sam said. "We have plenty of space, food, whatever you need to get yourself cleaned up."

Too good to be true. Could she trust them? They seemed kind enough, but Clara was weary.

But where else would she go? What would she do?

She swallowed, nodding, and Sam gave her a reassuring glance before turning back to look at the road.