Sequel to "Want". I Do not own Doctor Who.

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Ten grinned a horrible, cruel, mocking sort of grin and contained the urge to laugh. He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile and resisted the urge to howl his victory.

Nine was dead and gone but small pieces, foundations still existed in Ten. They were different and yet the same. Ten already knew what sort of person he was. He was more talkative, more spontaneous, and less cautious than Nine had ever been. He was just as dark and twisted as Nine though, but he hid even better than Nine ever had. Hid malice and cruelty behind benign smiles and silly grins. He hid darkness behind an act.

Shakespeare said the world was a play. Ten acted as if it were fact. This whole thing was a fun act that kept him amused, kept him moving. Every adventure was a rush of adrenaline and playing down his skills until the last moment, then snapping whatever silly creature had dared try and catch him in a web of his own. He was a small black spider that appeared harmless but in fact held a deadly venom in the fangs he finally bared.

Nine had finally been struck down, not by the enemy, but by his own softness. He had gone fuzzy in the brain, had let every wall down, and killed himself for a silly pink and yellow human who was everything he had ever wanted. Nine had died for his Rose. Had actually killed himself, willingly, for the precious little human. And Ten had risen from his ashes.

This was Ten's victory. He had emerged from the death of his former life and he felt nothing but stronger. He had a softer face, a more unassuming look, a younger visage. He blended better now. Appeared more human, more harmless. But he felt the energy and life that coursed through his veins. A brand new body. A brand new body that had been born from the ashes of consuming all the knowledge of Time and Space.

The TARDIS hummed in his mind and he could hear it clearer than ever. Everything was so much clearer.

Ten straightened the collar of his new coat and examined himself in the mirror. Oh he felt like a brand new man. Except he was much more than a mere man.

"Admiring yourself again?"

He looked up at Rose's teasing face and gave her a soft, lopsided smile that he knew made him appear a bit daft.

"I look good." He purred, running a hand up his sideburns to comb through his hair.

"That you do, but shouldn't you be more concerned about steering." She grinned, tongue peeking between her teeth.

All it would take was one simple little hop of the railing, a move he could do before she was aware he had moved. He could have those soft delicate wrists in his hands, crushing them, as he pressed her flat against the TARDIS controls. She would be unable to resist and probably too stunned to even attempt it. He could claim her right here and now, against the very ship she practically worshiped.

"She can steer herself." He grinned as he looked at the lines of the TARDIS that clutched at the human girl lovingly.

Rose grinned at him again and he looked away before he turned into a ravenous beast.

Nine had desired her. He had instinctively wanted to claim her and break her and make her his own. And make no mistake, Ten wanted her so badly it ached in his bones, but he knew now that breaking her would not make this fragile creature his. Nine was wanted her broken and screaming his name, only his forever and ever.

Ten just wanted her. He wanted everything she had to give. He wanted her happiness and her love and her compassion. He wanted looking only at him with such emotions in her eyes. He wanted her to want only him in a way that even whole and sane she would not even think to look at anyone but him.

Ten wanted to own her body, mind, and soul. But he knew he couldn't destroy her to get her. Why would he want a broken toy anyways? No, Rose was stunning just as she was, whole and alive and feeling.

"So you think I look good?" He joked, spinning back to his human.

She blinked and then smiled, a softer more shy smile that didn't look as sinful as her usual grins.

"Most definitely."

"Better than before?"

"Well, perhaps not better," She approached him, "Just…different."

"Good different or bad different?" he drawled, looking her in the eyes.

She let her gaze drop as she straightened his tie.

"Just different."

She went to pull back and he caught her wrists, resisting the urge to grip it so tight she could never escape. Instead it was a loose gentle hold that she could break out of with a quick tug. But she didn't, just raised her gaze to meet his. He saw so many delicious emotions there, looking back at him.

"Rose." He whispered.

"Doctor." She whispered back "I…"

"I'll always be the Doctor." He said to her, gently moving his hold so he was holding her hand, lacing the fingers, hand reaching for her other hand.

"Always?" She asked him, eyes locked on their hands, which he folded together.

"Always." He promised. "I'll always be your Doctor."

"My Doctor. I like that." She breathed, a faint smile on her lips.

"And you have to promise to always be my Rose." He said seriously.

"I'll always be your Rose. We'll always be The Doctor and Rose." She looked up at him.

Just those words nearly drove him over the edge. His Rose. He inhaled the scent that was entirely her and absorbed the emotion through her skin. She was happy and it was like a drug to his system. He let go of one hand to gently stroke her cheek making her tilt her head up again. And then he kissed her, a steady unrelenting kiss that pressed eagerly against her.

She inhaled sharply against his lips and froze a moment. He could feel the tangle of her emotions and shifted his hand to hold her neck, squeezing the hand that was still interlaced with hers. He held fast, ready for any resistance.

"Doctor." She murmured against his lips.

"Rose." He answered back, pressing the kiss deeper.

She seemed to realize this was real, that he was actually kissing her because she wretched her hand free and threw her arms about his neck, pulling him into an absolutely vicious, demanding, desperate kiss. He was only slightly surprised the feelings were returned. He had seen the steady growing comfort she had with him and had knew it would evolve if he played it right. And here, when she was vulnerable after such a shift in the Doctor, was the perfect time to strike.

He held her as tight as he dared and responded headily to her passion. He held her close and tried to breathe calmly as his hearts worked a tempo of lust and want and need and power. He needed to devour her, but he had to be gentle not to scare the fly away. He didn't want one meal, he wanted many.

The Little fly willingly entered the Spider's Parlour and the Spider smiled and did not consume it just then and there.