Chapter Text
"Son of a BITCH!"
The muscles in Dean's shoulder twitch unpleasantly as Deans snaps his arm forward pulling his already bloody machete with him. The nasty, fanged little bitch got in a lucky hit; striking Dean in his gut causing him to lurch forward breathlessly. The vampire saw its opening and fucking leaped towards him, jumping so high that in the split second Dean did see the fucking thing barreling towards him he had to crane his head upwards. The vamp immediately latches its teeth into the junction of Deans neck and shoulder, causing Dean to yelp (manly, very manly yelp) and yank his machete forwards again, albeit blindly. As he thrusted his machete the second, third, jesus come on! and then finally a fourth time, he felt the slick sinking of blade into flesh and the impact vibrated throughout his entire body.
The vampire screams as it flings itself away from Dean and Dean doesn't waste a second in bringing his blade down again. Finally, Dean feels the satisfying swing of first flesh and bone and muscle then just nothing but momentum, and the familiar spray of blood to the face. Glancing down, Dean could see that it used to be a young girl, probably quite pretty too, before she changed. Signing, Dean wipes his face with his shirt that probably just spreads the blood around and then cautiously prods the wound in his neck. 'Hurts like a bitch, but it can wait.' Dean can feel he pulled a muscle in his shoulder and he probably has a sprained wrist and bruised ribs. Whatever.
Ignoring the body for the time being, Dean trudges to the Impala to grab rope and plastic tarps. The fight happened on some property with abandoned storage units, fifteen minutes or so out of Exeter. As Dean begins wrapping the body up, he can't help but have his mind on the next hunt already. 'One down, a whole fuckin' nest to go.'
Dean Winchester has been stuck in this goddamn town for almost a month. It's the longest Dean has stayed put since Sammy fell. Dean probably would've shot his own brains out if it hadn't been for the facts that A: he's a fucking coward and is really, really not looking forward to returning to Hell when he dies (Cas has tried assuring him that he's snagged Dean a spot top-side, but when do good things ever happen to Dean Winchester?) and B: he was still determined to bring Sam back and live happily ever after doing some normal hunting without dick angels or devils or Satan breathing down their necks. Dean misses the days of hunting for freaking Yellow Eyes with Sam and god, if he's calling those the "happy days" then Dean is more fucked up than he thought. He mostly just misses Sam. Dean is painfully reminded that he can't even remember Sammy's honest to God smile; when was the last time he even laughed before he was suddenly dragged to the Cage?
But there's a nest of fangs in this town that has gotten away with way too much so Dean stays because Dean is responsible for their actions because he's the only one that can stop them and because hunting is all he has that makes him feel alive anymore. The motel Dean booked a room is utterly fantastic with its bullshit pipes, it's bullshit television that gets one channel, and its bullshit puke-green colored theme it's got going on. But in Deans book it's a winner because its cheap and the owner didn't call the police on him when he came back one night bloody and literally ran onto him. He told him that it was a hunt gone wrong.
"Oh, like wild boars? Yeah that's like a thing around here, yeah."
"Yeah. Wild boars."
Wild boars that tried to rip his arms out of their sockets and drink him dry.
Dean tried to keep his promise to Sam, he really did. For about three weeks. In the end, a hunter is what Dean was, is, and ever will be. Three weeks of an attempted apple pie life proved to him even more that once you're in, there's no getting the fuck out. When Bobby mentioned to Dean that he didn't even try to let himself be happy 'goddamn it boy for once in your life you can have somethin good' Dean almost punched him in the face because that was absolutely true. Dean ignores Lisa's phone calls and tries to never think about her face when he left. And Ben, god Ben. When the guilt and memories of what he had get too bad, Dean drowns himself in whiskey and tells himself that it was for the sake of their happiness and safety that he ran away. Bobby told him he was running away not to protect them, but to punish himself. Dean stopped answering Bobby's phone calls after that.
So Dean hunted. And hunted. And hunted. Stayed at shitty hotels that matched his shitty eating habits, his shitty alcoholism, his shitty attitude, and his shitty mood. Sam fell into the Cage, but Dean has pretty much jumped in after him.
***
The Doctor was lonely. The Doctor was bored. And The Doctor was especially annoyed that he made a promise to his wonderful Ponds to let them stay put in Leadworth for a while.
"We just need a break Doctor! Just give us a year. Pop in and pop out as much as you fancy, but we can't be running away from our lives here right now. Oi, don't give me that look! You're my best friend and-"
"There's nothing here but boring people with boring lives and boring boringness! Come along Ponds, I will take you to the Age of the Aquarius, I will introduce you to the lovely Queen of the planet Sonyurgt! Wonderful woman, she has the hair of the most purpley grapes, the voice of a Hungarian bullfrog-I told her to stop smoking those awful heptlan leaves! and her chest plate had to be configured quite in a way so that her large-"
"I have a job you know," Rory interrupts, disgruntled.
The Doctor stares blankly.
"We have two lives, and we've been ignoring the first one for ages," Rory says again, though more gently. "People start to get curious and we start to get tired."
"A year," Amy smiles, and she wraps her arms around The Doctor's shoulders and, after a nod and a roll of the eyes from Rory, he wraps his own around her waist, squeezing tightly.
A break? Jobs? The Doctor scoffs. What fun was a time machine if there was no one to see all of time and space with? He's The Doctor, he has seen everything and everyone in his old age. He wants someone young and bright who has only seen but a speck of what existed, exists, and will exist. Someone who opens that door leading out of the TARDIS with brand new excitement, someone whose breath he can take away with the mere flips and pulls and knobs of his magic box. Someone utterly human. He wants Amy back.
So he roamed, attempted to convince River Song to join him for a while, "sometimes, but I can't all the time sweetie," and so he wandered some more. Mostly he let the TARDIS decide where she wanted to go, but even after they would land, The Doctor would stay holed up, flitting about the consoles fixing things that didn't need fixing. So it wasn't surprising that the TARDIS finally had enough of his nonsense and soared through space and time eventually dumping him, yes literally dumping him, out of her doors with a huff.
The Doctor jumped up, lifting an eyebrow to scold the old girl, but his face was grinning. 'Yes, when did you take me? I can taste that its Earth, I'm guessing 2009? Oh yes, now why here, why now, who am I going to meet, who are we going to save eh?" His words topple over themselves as he straightens his bow tie (bow ties are cool) and tugs his overcoat down. His fingers twitch with excitement after being inside for so long, and his hearts feel particularly jumpy. It is then The Doctor takes a look around.
He's in a graveyard. Well no problemo, he's been in worse places. Much nastier, gooier, smellier places but oh wait, is that decomposition his sensitive nose smells? The Doctor closes his eyes and focuses on the brittle yellowing grass, the single awkward tree, the cracked and broken headstones, and the hot heavy feel of the wind.
Cracking his eyes open, The Doctor lets out a whoop and begins pacing around looking for...well he doesn't really know what he's looking for but what he's looking for usually ends up finding him. Suddenly stopping, he slowly looks up again. Yes, this is a creepy, desolated graveyard in the middle of nowhere (America, The Doctor muses), however this place is completely and utterly devoid of life. No birds flying about, no flies eagerly getting in his face, no flora besides the one tree which is mostly just a giant twig devoid of leaves. There's nothing. The Doctor feels a pit in his stomach, that something terrible and awful but also brilliant and exciting is about to happen.
He twists his body and spins as his hands grab at his chest for his sonic screwdriver. Scanning the area, The Doctor saw no sign of, well, anything and isn't that a more worrying thought than finding something? Twitching his fingers up to his bow tie, he frowns slightly and licks his lips. Sexy brought him here for a reason, and her reasons were always borderline magnificent and trying to get him killed.
His answer comes in the sounds of approaching animalistic snarling, the faint scent of gunshot residue and gasoline, and...oh yes The Doctor is familiar with that particular smell, the smell of blood.
***
Dean is pissed. Which isn't surprising seeing how his mood 24/7 is either pissed off or other variations of angry. But this really takes the cake: vampires and demons working together. Since when have lines grown so blurred that everything that hates him are now aligning with each other? What the hell do vamps even get out of drinking demon blood? Dean finds out the painful way: a hard kick to the ribs that leaves him crashing through plaster and wood.
"So you freaks have found your steroids. Bet you're all thrilled you can be the star football player now, but I've heard that shit shrinks your-" A demon cuts off Deans words with a flip of his fingers and throws him across the old church again until Dean is being held up with a wall splintering into his back, though Dean is pleased to see the thunderous look on its face after Deans jab. Sam always said that Deans words were his biggest weapon but also are what's going to kill him. 'Bitch...'
"Fucking Winchester," it sneers "I should have known it was you. Reckless and stupid, who else would barge into a nest by himself?"
The demon stalks closer to Dean. It's inhabiting a man, probably only a few years older than Dean. Black hair, impressive eyebrows, an uneven jaw, and a cruel, twisted smile that doesn't quite sit well on his face. He gets close enough to Dean to touch him, and snakes his fingers around his throat.
"I should kill you right now," he hisses and Dean really wishes he could speak right now with a witty retort however the demon continues. "But I think you're already doing that to yourself quite well enough."
The surrounding demons and vampires laugh as their eyes flash black or their teeth suddenly grow another very sharp row and Dean glares at them all silently telling them to fuck off. He thought these sons of bitches should already know that just by hunting these freaks that he has the death wish of the biggest freaking masochist he's ever known.
"You reek of misery and anger. Not to mention," it pauses then smirks, "like you drank through an entire liquor store." Dean dumbly thinks back to when Castiel, angel of The Lord, did just that and can't help but feel impressed again. He also wonders if this is the part he should try praying for help but screw Cas because one, Dean didn't need any help because he is Dean fucking Winchester and two, Dean can't remember the last time Cas actually heard his prayer and came to him. Dean's heart pumps furiously in more anger. Angels man, are dicks.
"You are a peculiar little thing, Dean Winchester? Trying to save the world all by yourself, nothing but flesh and blood. I hear those feathered bastards upstairs aren't even interested in you anymore." The demon strokes the slight stubble on Deans cheek with its other hand, Deans eyes flash dangerously, before the demon slams it into the wall behind him.
"I'd run back to Calvin Kline if you still want to finish your underwear modeling career, cause I'm about to gank your sorry ass," Dean chokes out.
The demon just smiles then licks his lips suggestively. "I was thinking this body was more...Ralph Lauren no? That's why I picked it. So...rugged and handsome don't you think?"
Great. Now he's talking about clothing designers that he has no clue about to Mr. Fashion from Hell. Not to mention the demon might be coming onto him which brings on a whole new level of weird.
"What are we gonna do with him?" Drawls a vampire with bouncy blonde curls and sinfully red lips. The demon holding him thoughtfully chews on his bottom lip, eyes gazing into Deans and then he finally smirks with a tilt of his head that just looks completely wrong on him,
"We can have our fun."
****
The Doctor barely has time to wonder 'what the hell is that' before the...thing slams into him and he is knocked off balanced. The Doctor springs back to his feet immediately and zeroes in on the thing that crashed into him and oh. Ohhhhh. Oh. Lovely. A vampire. And oddly, it looks just as surprised to see him as The Doctor is to see it.
It's a young little thing, probably turned about a week or so ago (The Doctor is good at knowing these things, fantastic actually). He's a young boy, twelve years old with soft blonde hair and pale skin. His brown eyes widen a bit comically at the sight of The Doctor until they narrow and he flashes his disturbingly sharp teeth and oh yes, there is more than one row of them. And is that? Ah yes. There's blood in his teeth.
"Hello!" The Doctor says with a jerky wave of the hand. "Now where you going mate? I'm The Doctor, I help people. Well, not that you're a person anymore, but I've always believed vampires are capable of retaining a bit of their before-selves so yes, I believe I can help you! Is there a nest nearby? Fancy a walk? Oh! I can snag us some delicious jammy dodgers from Sexy if you'd like, they are quite brilliant even if you're used to eating, well, blood and stuff. Shouldn't you be inside sleeping? It's quite warm out today isn't it? Lovely weather, yes, but I don't suppose it is for you."
The boy stared blankly before once again crouching into a defensive stature. He flashes his teeth warningly, spit and frothy blood spraying from between his teeth.
"I don't know how you found this place, you freak, but you won't be around much longer to tell any of your friends about it!" The vampire spat.
"Oh, is this like a secret clubhouse? A secret vampire clubhouse? Excellent! Well now I'd appreciate if you'd put your-" The Doctor crooked two fingers to his mouth in a crude pantomime of fangs, "away and let me help you before you hurt more people." The Doctors voice dropped dangerously at the last part, and the boy faltered a bit at the underlying power and authority the strange man held.
The vampire, now unsure of himself, drops his gaze to the ground and scuffs his shoe in the dirt in a boyish manner that looked odd what with the fangs and blood and all. His head snaps up and the vampire asks, "Are you a hunter or somethin?"
Before The Doctor can answer, four, five shots rang out in the silence. The boy screams and his body snaps forward like a doll whose strings have been cut. The Doctor looks on in horror and narrows his gaze. He hates guns. And from the new taste and smells in the air, this gun wielding person knew what they were doing. Silver.
"Are you fucking nuts?!"
The Doctor also hates cursing.
A man is running towards them, a large gun held in his two hands, before he throws it to the side and grabs a...is that a machete? from his waist. Without hesitation, the man approaches the young vampire and neatly swings the giant blade down. Hard. On the boys neck. The Doctor feels sick at the very distinctive sound of a head separating from its body, oh and isn't that just disturbing, before he turns on the attacker, livid.
"Am I nuts? Am I nuts? I didn't just come out of nowhere with a bloody machete and chop off a child's, yes that is still a child, head! I could've helped him, he was going to let me help him you...you wanker!"
The man raises an eyebrow at The Doctors accent then shrugs his shoulders indifferently. "Listen Prince William, I just saved your ass. The only way you could've helped that vamp was if it hasn't fed yet, which I'm guessing isn't the case seeing as I saw it kill its 8 year old neighbor last week."
He pauses and glances at his watch. Cursing, he turns back to The Doctor. "Look, I kinda accidentally have an entire army of vamps hopped up on demon juice after me so we need to get out of here."
"How did you manage that? Vampires who consume demonic blood are considerably more powerful than the regular 'ol Dracula, though Dracula is a rather poor example of a vampire even though I tried giving Bram some pointers-"
"Just shut up and help me find the grave of Mercy Brown," the man says curtly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at The Doctor.
"Wait, what? Why? You're not, we're not digging graves are we?" The Doctor stutters.
"Nope, just need to crack open a tombstone and find the damn thing that's acting like a beacon for vamps, signaling them to this fucked up crack party the demons invited them to," he answers as he walks through the graves. "This is a good site they picked, has all the demonic qualifications and more. Look for a stone that's not crumbling apart like the others, the spell would've restored-HA!"
The man stood triumphantly in front of Mercy Brown's grave. "A long time ago, this girl and her family died from tuberculosis-man that crap sucks. Anyways, when her only living brother got it too after she died, everyone suspected vampirism so hey, what do they do? They dig up little dead Mercy and since she hasn't been dead for too long, there was still blood in her heart. And well, you know people back then, fucking superstitious bastards even though they weren't even right half the time."
The Doctor raises an eyebrow and nods at the ahem, interesting history lesson. If only this man knew that The Doctor himself is history. The Doctor instead begins observing the man as he starts drawing scribbles on the tombstone. He was tall and freakishly handsome. 'Like a Ken Doll,' he thinks, then giggles to himself. His eyes are an astonishing green, with a hardness in them that The Doctor is all too familiar with. This is a man who has seen and been through much. The Doctor is fascinated. The Doctor wants to know more.
He watches as Ken cracks open the tomb with some Latin and well placed sigils. Leaning over his shoulder, he spies a brass, angular pendant lying in the now crumbled stone. Ken Doll snatches it up and then tosses The Doctor an arrogant smirk.
A smirk which quickly disappears when the thunderous shrieks of an impending army of juiced up monsters is heard in the distance, closing in.
****
"Fuck, we gotta get out of here!" Dean yells to the weirdo he found defending kid vampires' honors. Dean curses to himself for leaving his Baby; he didn't have much time after escaping Mr. Fashion and his fashion police whores to get her.
Panicking inside, but not showing it, Dean turns to Dr. Seuss and asks, "I don't suppose you drove here."
The odd man beams and says, "Right you are lad! I did not in fact drive here. I flew!"
Great, not only did this nutter know about the things that go bump in the night, but apparently it has made him go insane. "Right," Dean drawls as his eyes glance over his shoulder for any approaching enemies, "I flew too, flew right outta your-what the hell is that doing here?"
Dean stares dumbly at what looks like an old British police box that he's seen in movies. It stood so bright, and so damn blue, that Dean smacks himself for not noticing it sooner. Immediately Dean finds it suspicious.
"I told you, I flew! And well, she's my ship," bow tie dude says, somewhat proudly, straightening his stupid looking jacket.
"Okay, you're either really, really insane or there's more to you that makes me feel like I should be ganking you right about now. Who are you?" Dean demands.
"I'm The Doctor."
Dean stares blankly. "Doctor Who?"
The guy starts grinning, shuffling his feet in a mad sort of dance, hands flitting about in giddiness.
"Now that is my favorite part! Never gets old does it?! Now, you know what else we should never, ever get tired of? Running!" The Doctor says this all with a somewhat scary looking grin, and Dean usually wouldn't argue with running but-
"Run where. They're faster than us, we won't even make it to town."
"I told you, Dumbo, that I flew here in my ship. Come along now!"
Dean is really fucking confused now, but what the hell. He can either die running away or die running to lock himself in an old blue box with an insane British guy who won't tell him his name.
Dean won't admit that he's intrigued enough by this "doctor" that he is kind of hoping they live through this.
The vamps have definitely breached the graveyard and Dean runs after The Doctor to his blue box. The screaming has reached new heights now, and Dean mostly now hopes they live through this just to piss them off. The Doctor then swings open the door of the box and grabs Dean by the arm and pretty much tosses him in and Dean falls to the floor on his knees. Who knew the little guy had such strength? The awful screaming has completely stopped, and in its place there is a slow but comforting hum and Dean finally stands up and watches The Doctor run further into the box up to a giant-wait. The Doctor just ran further into a tiny police box.
Dean gasps reaching out behind him to hold onto...he doesn't quite know but he sure doesn't think he can fucking stand right now. Dean vaguely registers 'its bigger on the inside' before he remembers the Green Room the angels locked him in. Is The Doctor an angel? The thought leaves him feeling more sick than the sudden vertigo of being pulled into something way bigger than it should be.
"What is this place? Who are you? No wait, what are you?" Dean asks, trying to keep his voice stiff and authoritative. He really wishes he had his gun right now.
"First, what's your name? I can't keep thinking of you in my head as Ken Doll forever now can I?" The Doctor replies cheekily.
"Dean Winchester."
"Well, Dean Winchester, welcome aboard my TARDIS! I am The Doctor and you better find something to hang onto because flying through space and time can get a tad bumpy!"
What. The hell.