A/N: I originally wanted to post this as an individual story, but decided against it, since these two stories are closely linked.

This is still set at the time where Ten travels alone, after the Titanic special, but at the beginning of Supernatural's season 9! So, obviously spoilers for that.

Time Energy, Peanuts and Pie

He is standing between the cereal and potato chips, turning a can of peanuts in his hand once, twice, thrice, squinting at the little characters written on the label for clarity of its contents. When he begins to sniff at every can, shaking his head and piling them on the ground next to him, Castiel decides to step in.

"How may I help you?" he asks in his 'pleasant' voice, focused on not stepping too close to his new customer. He doesn't exactly know Time Lord etiquette concerning personal space.

"Oh, oh, nothing really, I was just trying-" when the man finally raises his head he stops his actions, two different kinds of peanut cans in his hands. Castiel politely gives him a few seconds to remember and recognise him.

"It's you!" the Doctor finally exclaims, throwing the two remaining cans over his shoulder and grasping Castiel's hand. The cans make an unpleasant noise when they touch the ground.

"That's wonderful, fantastic even, to find you here!"

Castiel finds himself being led to the cash register, stepping behind it while the other man talks some more, already holding different types of food in his hands.

"I thought I was stuck here for good. Your siblings aren't exactly the most sunny sort of people! Only this please."

He hands over a pie, still that ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

"I don't understand what you are talking about," Castiel comments, still using the pleasant voice, handing back the change and a small plastic bag.

"You have to come right now, so you can see for yourself! She's really bad off. I don't really know..."

His fast approach of the door is stopped when he is once again next to the potato chips.

"I cannot leave until seven."

The Doctor sighs, but accepts, returning to the register. His plastic bag makes an even more unpleasant noise than the peanut cans did.

"Why is an angel of the Lord even working in such a store at all? You could do anything!"

Castiel looks around him to make sure no one had heard what the Doctor had said, but thankfully there was no one else there. He still leads him to a more secluded corner, in view of the whole room, to make absolutely certain they wouldn't be overheard. "I would rather not have everyone know of my true identity," he states as way of explanation, but then adds, "even though I'm not an angel any more."

The Time Lord squints at Castiel, right at the place where his grace – or time energy, as his people were known to call it – was stored once. It was probably an unconscious act since his body can not see it. He can only feel the energy of a grace.

And his wasn't there.

"Oh." The Doctor's brown eyes are as sorrowful as the ones from that other, medical doctor on that hospital show he had once watched with Dean. He had thought that display of emotion overly exaggerated at that time.

"I am so sorry."

Even though his sympathy isn't helping his situation, Castiel is strangely grateful for it.

"I was travelling into the future from ancient Egypt when my Tardis was thrown out of the vortex and crashed. I landed around here, the night the angels fell."

The last time they had met – in purgatory, when the Tardis had opened a passageway for them, oh-so-long ago – Castiel had explained to the Doctor how the Tardis was the vessel of an angel created out of the time vortex energies. It shouldn't come as a surprise then that the ship would be affected by the closing of heaven.

"She lost a great deal of her power and even though she had enough left to at least travel around the world, she wouldn't. I had thought that maybe another angel could lend her some of his time energy... maybe heal her, jump-start her, I don't know."

The doorbell rings and two school boys enter, rushing towards the slushies.

"I have to operate the ice machine," Castiel states, already hurrying towards his customers.

"Why don't you come around at seven, then?" the Doctor suggests, following and clenching the pie to his chest, "maybe... talk to her? I think she's sad. It's just down that street over there, then down the little alley. You know what to look for, just knock!"

And with that, he is already gone, the doorbell ringing after him. Castiel hands out the ice in two small plastic cups, one blueberry, the other strawberry, and wishes a good day. The boys don't answer him when they leave.

The former angel finds himself excited and anxious. The rest of his shift seems to stretch out endlessly before him. But then it ends.

He finds the Tardis effortlessly.

He sits down on the cold metal floor next to the console. The Doctor decides to leave them alone and goes to the kitchen to prepare the pie he had acquired a few hours past. Castiel does not think the amount of preparing needed for that kind of food requires him to stay away for as long as he does in the end.

The last time he was in the Tardis, he could feel her grace burning in the centre, a connective link between them. Now, he feels nothing. Now, he feels only the void inside himself.

To his human self, the Tardis could well have been only a thing. She responds exactly as Castiel would expect a thing to respond. She doesn't say anything.

Anyone else might have felt ridiculous, talking to a 'machine'.

For Castiel, sitting on the floor and relaying everything to her – Metatron's betrayal, the spell and his loss of grace, the loss of his siblings, being human – was the greatest thing that could have happened to him at the moment.

He knows that she doesn't judge him.

She doesn't say anything, so he doesn't really know.

But he knows.

When he is done talking, he goes to the controls and runs his hand over them.

"I know you feel the loss as well as I do, but we will fix this somehow."

At least that's what Dean always says.

The Doctor might have been in the room with them all along and not in the kitchen, judging from the speed with which he races to his control monitor when the Tardis makes a sound that, in some cruder human wording, might have been described as 'spacey power up sound'.

The Doctor beams.

"She's still only at thirty percent power, but it seems like she decided that something's worth the while fighting for."

He's tapping away at some keys, ringing some kind of bell a few times and kicking something on the ground. Castiel doesn't think that this is the proper way of treating a time angel, but decides against saying something. If she didn't consent to it, the Tardis would never have chosen this person.

"This power level should be enough to do some simple tasks..."

The Time Lord stops tapping and fixes Castiel with a grin that grows further than his face.

"Do you maybe want to fly around a bit?"

Castiel finds that he'd very much like to.

I never would've thought I'd write a sequel, but I'm supposed to study – and we all know how not wanting to do the one things boosts progress of another completely different thing immensely. Not much happens here, but I just like the two (or three) of them together in one room. They are so perfectly different.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Tell me if you liked the idea or didn't like it – might be I'll write another chapter sometime.