The minotaur staggers backwards out of the room and collapses in the hallway, panting for breath. The Doctor goes to comfort him, holding his big, rubbery vomit head tenderly in his hands. "I severed the food supply, sacrificing her faith in me," he says. "Gave you the space to die." He pats the minotaur's brow as the hotel dissolves around them, exposing a vast, empty room that looks like the holodeck on Star Trek. The last thing to go is the "Do Not Disturb" sign he'd put up earlier, revealing that this was actually his room and not Amy's.
So everyone's standing around on this spaceship. The Doctor checks a computer screen and tells us that the minotaur is part of an alien race. He set himself up on a planet to be worshiped, but then the inhabitants "got secular" and put him in prison. Except it's a prison where the minotaur can still play the false god and eat people, so either it's a design flaw or those silly secularists didn't care as long as it was other people getting eaten. The minotaur starts grumbling. The Doctor translates something about ancient creatures in endless mazes and being drenched in the blood of innocents that sounds like the minotaur is talking about himself, but he's actually talking about the Doctor. "For such a creature, death would be a gift," he says.
The Doctor brings Amy and Rory back to Earth and presents them with a house of their own and a shiny red car. While Rory goes off to explore the house, Amy has a chat with the Doctor. She realizes he's leaving but he says she'll see him again. It's all very amicable, even if Amy is a bit sad to have things end sort of anticlimactically. He says it's better than the alternative. They give each other big, shoulder-sniffing hugs. "If you bump into my daughter, tell her to visit her old mum sometime," Amy says and gives him a little smooch on the forehead.
So off the raggedy Doctor goes back into his blue box while Amy waves him off. Rory comes back out, confused. "What's he doing?" he asks. "He's saving us," Amy says. The Doctor stands hunched over the TARDIS console, looking old and alone, though perhaps not hating his furniture.
Tippi Blevins is a recapper traveling slowly forward in time. Email her at email@example.com, or find her on Twitter.