Chapter Text
The sun was shining brightly down on the tightly packed rooftops of London, the phenomenon such a seldom occurrence in the United Kingdom that citizens and tourists alike were in either pleasant disbelief or suppressed annoyance in the face of the country's newly adopted climate. Regardless of which stance was taken on the matter, everybody continued about their daily business as usual. People went to work with take-away coffee in hand, disgruntled parents struggled, but to no avail to escort their children away from ever enticing toy shops, and a blue telephone box suddenly materialised out of thin air, then lay dormant on a small alleyway corner, humming ever so slightly. The latter happening was just slightly out of the ordinary; less common than the former sights but, interestingly enough, happened more often than the sun deciding to grace Britain with its presence on a Monday morning.
The door of what was labelled 'Police Box' suddenly swung inward to reveal a man's head, ruffled brown hair sticking up in every which way, and dark eyes observing closely as he seemed to attempt to get his bearings. As the door swung wider still, the rest of his body followed, one hand lazily closing the door gently shut behind him. He wore a blue suit mostly covered by a long brown coat, trailing somewhere about his knees. His red canvas shoes scuffed the gravel pavement as he stepped forward into the street. Before leaving however, he turned and gave the wooden box he had just emerged from what he thought might be an affectionate pat, before turning on his heel, running a hand through his messy hair and striding purposefully towards the main street, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The Police Box purred slightly, waiting for her master to return, as he always did.
The Doctor stood in the middle of the pavement, jostled slightly by the small crowd as he peered interestedly into a local fish and chips joint. Humans are such an amazingly simple race, he mused, and perhaps that might be one of the reasons why he was attracted to this planet so. The Doctor was suddenly jolted from his thoughts and he stumbled backwards slightly as a shoulder bumped against his.
"Sorry man, didn't see ya there." Following the voice to the face it belonged to, The Doctor locked eyes with a man, maybe in his twenties, with soft green-brown eyes and wearing a large brown leather jacket, the collar turned up against his neck. Eyes darting to the left, it also appeared that the man had a partner with him, slightly younger but taller, and with longer hair, a jacket covering a blue plaid shirt. Realising suddenly that he had been staring, The Doctor jumped and shook himself out of inspecting the pair in front of him.
"Oh, that's alright, no trouble at all. It was my fault really, I am terribly clumsy." He rambled, beaming, oblivious to the strange look he was getting from the two. Rather than leaving it at that, the man's eyes narrowed, and he took a tentative step closer.
"Do I... know you from somewhere?" he enquired, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The Doctor flashed another winning smile and scratched his ear thoughtfully.
"I shouldn't think so, though I have met my fair share of...you lot...so forgive me if you've slipped my mind." The Doctor's dark eyes flitted to the second man, who had stridden up to the first, urgently tugging the sleeve of his coat and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.
"Dean-come on man, we don't have time for this," the younger clutched at a leather-bound notebook as if his life depended on it and gestured to what seemed to be their car; a jet-black Chevrolet Impala. The man named Dean shook himself before turning his attention to his younger brother.
"Yeah, right, of course," he mumbled, turning away from The Doctor without a parting word. "Please tell me you've got something good, Sammy, or by God I just might bend over and let Lucifer kiss my ass already." His voice trailed off as they headed to the car. The Doctor blinked. The quirks of humans had always amused him, but this sounded just strange enough to be classified as different. The smile that had just before lit his features had vanished, replaced instead by a look of serious confusion. Trying to be as discreet as possible, The Doctor sidled up to the sleek black car as the two boys were getting in, as though to casually walk past it. His sonic screwdriver whirred quietly under his trench coat as he aimed it at the vehicle as he kept walking. Behind him, The Doctor heard the engine roar to life before fading away to a distant hum. He turned on his heel off the main road, and began to double his pace toward where he had come, back to the blue box he had arrived in. He had some research to do.
****
The quiet electronic whirring of the TARDIS was all that accompanied The Doctor as he focused on the small screen in front of him, a thoughtful frown ghosting his features as he watched picture after picture of his two mystery men flash before him. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he turned and plugged his sonic screwdriver into a small space on his control panel. Eyes darting back and forth, he hurried to read the intricate gallifreyan symbols spiralling across the screen. Seeming to have gotten the information he needed, The Doctor sprang to life, flipping a switch hurriedly before darting around the console, pulling levers and pushing buttons at an alarming speed. The TARDIS shook around him, the wheezing, groaning sound it breathed the only comfort to The Doctor's scattered thoughts.
"Bingo!" He pulled one last handle, causing the TARDIS to shudder to a halt. Taking a final glance at the small screen, The Doctor proceeded to the double doors before him, grabbing his coat and pulling it around himself before yanking the door towards him.
"Oh." The Doctor heard a click as he was met with the barrels of two guns, pointed right at his face.
-10 minutes earlier-
"I just can't make sense of it, Dean," Sam brought his hands up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose in frustration. ''There's just – there's no feasible way that we can be here right now.'' His older brother Dean scowled, grabbing two beers from the small refrigerator in their motel room and bringing them over to the table.
"Sam, since when is anything we ever do feasible?" he countered, flipping the lid off the glass bottle and taking a long swig.
"Fair point," Sam sighed and closed his laptop, giving up on research for the moment. Dean groaned and leaned back in his chair, eyes screwed shut.
"Castiel, is this to do with you?" he appeared to be talking to no one as he called the name. Within moments, and as if out of thin air, a third man appeared in the small motel room, causing dean to fall back in his chair and onto the floor with a yelp. The man's blue eyes slowly trailed to the ground as he fell. He was dressed in strange attire, an oversized trench coat covering a white shirt and messy blue tie. He ran a hand through his short black hair as he spoke in a deep, rather rough voice.
"Hello Dean." He peered down at Dean, still on the floor, one hand over his heart. "Sam," he greeted the younger, turning his way with a respectful nod.
"Jesus, Cas, we've talked about this!" Dean whined, recovering enough to pick himself up off the floor and back to his chair. "No angel mo-jo without warning! You're gonna be the death of me, I swear." Dean took a deep breath, slumping into his chair with a resigned sort of huff. Castiel stared at him.
"I am not Jesus." Dean gave him a withering look before giving up and remembering their current predicament.
"Anyway, is this you?" Castiel's eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"Is what me?" Dean let out an exasperated sigh, gesturing rather violently out the window.
"Um...maybe the fact that we're in, oh I dunno, London? The last thing either of us remember is researching a case back at the bunker-then...poof! We're here – and so is my car, thank God for small mercies – and neither of us have a clue how we got here!" He finished with a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Castiel's frown deepened.
"I thought you'd be more interested in the fact that you're in the year 2005." He quipped, deadpan. Dean's eyes widened as Sam did a double-take beside him.
"We're in – what?" Sam stepped forward, a mixture of confusion and anger upon his features. "You didn't think to... I dunno, tell us we were in a different timeline?" Cas frowned deeper still.
"I came as soon as you asked." Sam covered his face in his hands, resigned.
"I guess we were too preoccupied with where we were that we didn't realise when we were." He offered, his voice muffled by his hands. Dean seemed to recover, his face morphing from annoyance to resolve.
"So, what is this? Angels? You lot are the only ones who've been able to back-to-the-future us before." He turned to Cas who shook his head. In the silence that followed, a difference seemed to hang in the air. It started with a soft draught, ruffling hair and causing Castiel's coat to flap heavily against his legs. Dean stood very still, sensing the notable change in the air.
"Uh... There aren't any windows open, are there?" the group of three looked about the small room, confirming it was indeed sealed to the outside elements. Then came the sound. A rushing, breathy noise accompanied the unusual breeze, softly at first, then growing louder with every second that passed. Dean grabbed for the handgun in his inner coat pocket, holding it warily. Sam followed suit.
It came slowly at first, as if phasing into very existence itself. The dark blue Police Box just barely fit into the corner of the room, with zero space on either side.
"What the..." Dean's voice was barely audible over the din.
"Is that a... Telephone Box?" Sam questioned aloud, unsure of what he was seeing.
The box became solid, and the noise ceased. Sam and Dean's weapons of defence hung limply at their sides, dumbfounded expressions upon their faces. Castiel's features remained unreadable. The silence that followed the disturbance seemed to swallow the small room whole. It stretched for what felt like hours before the wooden front door creaked and opened slowly inward. As if triggered mechanically by the sound, Sam and Dean sprang into action, the click of their guns accompanying their lightning – fast reflexes as they trained their weapons at the opening door. Similar to that of the arrival that morning, a man's brown-haired head poked tentatively out from behind it. His face fell, changing from excitement to something like a puppy's face when it's scolded.
"Oh." Was all that came from The Doctor's mouth as he came face-to-face with the brothers' weaponry. Dean was the first to take action. He lifted his gun higher.
"Who are you??" The Doctor seemed greatly worried by the aggression, slowly raising his hands and stepping forward out of the wooden box.
"I assure you, there's no need for... those," he said quietly, eyeing the guns with an obvious distaste.
"Sam. Dean." The boys turned at their names to see Castiel motion calmly with his hand to stand at ease. Not looking reassured, they did as they were told. The Doctor seemed to relax considerably, though he hastily stuffed his hands deep in the pockets of his coat.
"You haven't answered the question." Sam added tensely, though his face seemed to relax. Dean kept one hand resting on the gun now slipped loosely in the seat of his pants. The Doctor seemed to have regained some of his former glow; he put on his brightest smile, as though he didn't just come face to face with two cold-metal killing machines.
"I'm The Doctor." He grinned as if the statement settled everything, oblivious to Sam and Dean's blank faces.
"Uh... Doctor Who? Sam queried, his obvious confusion not lifting.
"Oh, just The Doctor," hardly missing a beat, it seemed The Doctor had done this many times before. He was clearly becoming more comfortable by the second, as if almost in his element. Dean didn't seem thrilled by the almost light-hearted energy pervading from this...this thing that had materialised in front of them without a moments notice.
Okay... The Doctor," He stepped forward with the mind of clearly displaying his distaste of the whole situation, but a thought lodged itself in his brain before he could finish speaking his mind. It was the kind of thought that begins as a feeling; one you can't quite shake, like something hiding just out of sight, a corner-of-your-eye, a tip-of-your-tongue kind of thought. The Doctor raised his eyes to meet Dean's. He stared, unaware that time was still passing, and all eyes of the small company of people were on him.
"Yes?" The Doctor asked, perfectly diplomatic and calm, waiting patiently for Dean to reanimate. Sam walked tentatively up to his older brother, concern on his face. He reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder, giving him a small shake.
"Dean. Hey. You okay?" As if startled out of his thoughts by Sam's touch, Dean blinked and squared his shoulders, standing up a little higher.
"Nothing, I'm..." he looked back at The Doctor, who's eyes hadn't left his face. "It's just... I swear I've seen you before." This seemed to shake something loose in Dean's brain, and he clicked his fingers and pointed at the Doctor, as though someone had flipped a switch inside his head. "This morning! I walked into you!" he exclaimed. However, his corner-of your-eye, tip-of-your-tongue thought would remain with him for quite some time. A look of realisation also dawned on Sam's face as he too remembered the recent events of that day. The Doctor grinned sheepishly.
"Ah. Yes. Right, terribly sorry about that," He stuttered, bringing a hand out of his pocket to scratch the back of his head nervously. Clearly wanting to change the subject, The Doctor gave a sharp intake of breath before hurriedly attempting to rectify the awkwardness of the situation. He clapped his hands together. "Anyway! I introduced myself so it only seems fair that you do the same," he gestured towards Dean, who was closest to him. Dean opened his mouth in what looked like protest, before closing it again.
"Ah, what the hell," he resigned with a sigh. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother -" He began to gesture towards Sam before The Doctor cut him off.
"So, you must be Sam," he said politely, closing the gap towards them to hold out a hand for the younger brother to shake. "Winchester, right?" Sam stared, not accepting the outstretched hand before him.
"How – how did you know that?" The Doctor withdrew his hand, placing it back in the pocket of his coat. He began to pace absentmindedly back and forth across the small space in front of the wooden blue box, eyes cast down at his red canvas shoes.
"Oh, you know, I did a little research," he replied casually with a small smile, as if he were conversing over tea and biscuits. "And by all accounts," he added, ceasing his anxious pacing and looking up at the pair. "You – both of you - should be dead." Sam and Dean exchanged glances before Dean cleared his throat and spoke up.
"Well, research can only get you so far. The whole – death thing -" he waved his hand as if death was hardly a fear worth having. "- hasn't really agreed with us." The Doctor perked up, an unmistakable twinkle in his dark brown eyes.
"Oh yes. Yes, I quite agree. I know the feeling, believe me." He smirked, looking rather pleased with himself before a troubled look cast across his face. Clearly, he had said too much. In another desperate attempt to redeem himself, The Doctor fixed his gaze past Dean's shoulder. "And you are...?" Sam and Dean turned their heads simultaneously. They had almost forgotten there was a fourth being in the room. Castiel had not said a word throughout the entire exchange, standing in the corner, just watching and listening, zero emotion showing on his features.
"That's Cas – Castiel," Dean refrained from using the familiar nickname. "He's a friend."
"Hello." Cas said, his voice low and quite due to lack of use. He shuffled awkwardly on the spot, clearly uncomfortable. "I'll just – um...go," he mumbled, before vanishing into thin air with a rustle of feathers, as quick as one could blink. Dean rolled his eyes, clearly used to his friend's method of transportation. The Doctor however, did a missive double take, and his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Oh, now that's very interesting." Not unlike a beagle to a scent, The Doctor took a few large strides across the room to the place where Castiel had disappeared. Rummaging in his pockets, he pulled out a device, long and slender with a small blue light on the end. It whirred mechanically as it's owner waved it over the general space where Cas had been, intense concentration upon his face. Sam and Dean exchanged glances. Dean tilted his head in the Doctor's direction with an incredulous look that screamed: Can you believe this guy?? Ever the diplomat, Sam gave his brother a stern yet calm look in return that he knew all too well: Wait. Dean shook his head slightly and raised his eyes to the ceiling, their brotherly conflict clearly shown in just a few seconds. They both then turned to look at their newfound visitor, to find him now crouched close to the slightly mouldy carpet, a hand hovering over the air where their friend had stood.
"Fascinating," The Doctor's voice was lowered to an awed whisper as he checked his device. "There's something here, like a kind of energy I've never seen before!" His interest quickly gave way to a childish excitement. Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, clearly exhausted by The Doctor's unpredictable mood swings.
"Something tells me you've seen stuff like this before. So, you a hunter or what?"
"Hunter?" The Doctor cocked his head to one side.
"Guess not..." Dean mumbled under his breath. He probed further. "Supernatural stuff? No?" The Doctor smiled.
"Not really my area, no."
"Then what is?" Sam questioned tentatively, not really wanting an answer. The Doctor straightened up, fixing his tie as he did so.
"Aliens." He smiled, waiting for the bombshell to settle in the small room. Sam swallowed, visibly surprised. Dean blinked a couple of times but remained unreadable.
"A-aliens?" Said Sam, unsure of what he had heard.
"Yup." The Doctor replied smugly, popping the 'p' sound with his lips. Sam opened his mouth, most likely to ask one of a million questions swimming around in his brain, but was interrupted by Dean who stepped forward, carrying an air of authority and finality with him.
"Alright, Mulder. Question time. I don't really care about much, except-" He raised his voice sternly. "Why are you here? And what the hell," Dean turned to jab a finger at the wooden police box that had lain dormant since The Doctor's arrival. "Is that thing?"
"Oh, this?" The Doctor looked at the blue box proudly. "That's the TARDIS."
"Yeah, that explains a lot," Dean scoffed under his breath. The Doctor glared at him, irritated at being interrupted.
"It's my space-ship...thing." He trailed off, realising how silly he sounded too late. Sam and Dean stared, something they has been doing an awful lot since their strange visitor had arrived.
"Spaceship." The word came out of Sam's mouth, not sounding remotely normal. "You have a spaceship." It wasn't a question either, just a statement that either of the brothers could hardly believe.
"Looks like a hunk of wood to me," Dean smirked, sarcasm being his only coping mechanism for what his brain was processing.
"Hey, watch it!" The Doctor looked personally offended, walking up to his beloved police box and giving it a reassuring pat. Dean rolled his eyes. "It might be better if I show you."
****
The Doctor waited patiently as Sam and Dean slowly approached the TARDIS, leaning casually against its side, and twirling a small silver key between his nimble fingers. The older brother reached the door first, with Sam looking nervously over his shoulder.
"Ready?" The Doctor looked as though he could hardly contain his excitement as he inserted the key into the lock and pushed. A homely creak echoed through the small room, and Dean turned his head to look exasperatedly at Sam.
"C'mon, man, this is ridiculous. The three of us probably can't even-" The words died instantly in his throat as he turned back and was met with a cavernous room, instead of the wooden back of the phone box he expected. "fit..." Dean finished his sentence breathlessly and the two boys took a few small steps into the impossibly large space. Blue-green and white lights illuminated the room from every direction, bouncing off the gold panelled walls. A large and very complicated control panel towered in the very centre, and pillars of bright blue moved slowly up and down inside it, giving the impression that it was breathing, slowly and deeply. Thick black wires travelled from the impossibly high ceiling, and tall brown structures leaned against the walls, as if acting as a skeleton holding the place together. Corridors branched off the room in multiple directions, leading to rooms that clearly could not exist within the bounds of reality. Dean's own words came back to him, strangely grounding him a little. Since when is anything we do feasible? Sam hadn't said a word beside him, speechless as he took in the sight before them. The Doctor was now leaning casually against the control panel, feet crossed over each other and a bright grin upon his face.
"What do you think?" He asked eagerly, searching Sam and Dean's faces earnestly for any kind of notable reaction. Dean took a deep breath and said what often came to mind when faced with situations that were in any way similar to this.
"I need a drink."