Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bright neon luminescent lights were blinding, making it hard for Dean to see. The noise was deafening too. All this cheering in his ear was going to burst his eardrums. He was separated from Sam and Cas a while ago, and so far he’s had no success with finding them. Hopefully, they’ve been having better luck…wherever they are. The last thing he remembers was bursting through that old door with sketchy symbols carved into it, and then Cas calling out for him…and then…then…nothing. Everything after that is fuzzy and full of fog. And….Jesus Christ, has he mentioned these obnoxious lights?

“Mr. Dean Winchester, you have to vote someone off,” a female voice cuts through the overload of senses.

“What?” he looks up from where he is, apparently, sitting on a white couch.

“Are you, or are you not going to confirm your vote for Victoria?” the voice explains, revealing that it belongs to a stunning woman wearing an expensive-looking white dress.

“”Um…w-wh-...yes?” he guesses.

“Thank you.” The woman in white turns to a young woman sitting opposite of Dean, “Victoria, I’m sorry, but it looks like you have officially been voted out by your peers.”

The young woman, who Dean assumes is the Victoria he just voted out, starts silently crying.

The woman in white continues, “Please make a swift exit to avoid any unexpected consequences.”

Victoria nods her head and stands up, heading for the door. She turns around and gives one last watery smile to everyone, and waves a small goodbye. She takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle…before a trap door opens from under her, sending her screaming all the way down to wherever it leads.

Dean’s eyes widen, and he brings his fist to his mouth in shock.

Well… that’s unfortunate.

“Dean?” Cas calls out, his rough voice echoing in the darkness. “Sam?”

He walks and begins looking around, squinting to try and find a source of light. He only makes it a couple more steps before he rams into some sort of small metal pillar that comes up to his waist. Cas feels around, trying to find anything else that could clue him in on where he’s been transported. Or even better, give him a hint on where Sam and Dean had gone. But as Cas continues searching, it becomes clear that the thing in front of him is nothing but a stand of some sort. He’s about to turn back and attempt another direction but is cut off suddenly by all the lights snapping on.

“Hello?” Cas shields his eyes with his hand, letting his focus adjust to the change in brightness.

“Heelllloooo Castiel, angel of the lord! Arrre you readyyyy to play ‘KNOW YOUR TRIVIA’?” a man appears in front of Cas, holding a microphone and leaning on the blue stand that has “Castiel” written on it in big, golden letters.

“.....Excuse me?”

“Hey, guys?” Sam tries to maneuver his way around a bunch of scaffolding, careful not to trip on anything. “You there? Any–”

His foot catches on a spare piece of pipe lying on the floor, throwing him off balance and cutting off his sentence. He reaches to grab a strange red curtain to his right in an attempt to stop his descent. But instead of staying upright, he falls straight through the curtain and lands on some stage. There’s a burst of screaming once the lights catch his figure, and Sam cautiously gets up and gives a polite smile. He tries to escape back through the curtain, but someone grabs his arm from behind and pulls him toward the center of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen and anything in-between, I present to you….. Samuel Winchester!” exclaimed the voice of whoever was dragging him.

Sam looked over his shoulder to find a guy dressed in a fancy suit, holding a microphone and aggressively pushing him away from safety. He tugged him towards a platform with giant hearts with flashing pink lights in the background, leaving Sam in the center.

The man continued talking as he walked away, “As you know, Sam will be spending his time on the show today to learn more about our lovely three contestants, with the hope of leaving here with the spark of love! While the show progresses, secrets will be revealed and hearts will be broken. But alas! There can only be one lucky lady, and the other two shall be eliminated!” He pulled a hanging rope, causing a velvet curtain to fall down and reveal the candidates that were hidden behind it. “Annddd your choices are….Ruby, Meg, and the demon Lilith!”

“Shit.”

Dean peaked his head into the bedroom, he had been looking for clues ever since Victoria got voted out, hoping to find something to help get him out of whatever twisted thing he was currently stuck in. The room was currently vacant, so Dean cautiously entered, trying not to trigger any possible traps. He looked behind the picture of some old space station that was hanging over two of the beds. Maybe there was some kind of hex bag somewhere that was the source of this? After finding nothing suspicious with the picture, he got down to look underneath the beds.

“Hope you’re not finding anything too embarrassing down there,” a female voice halted Dean’s search.

He snapped up to a standing position, caught red-handed. The voice belonged to a blonde woman, who sat next to Victoria during the voting. Currently, she was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, blocking Dean’s only exit. “I–uh…. I was just–” Dean attempted to explain.

“Save your excuses,” she snapped, stepping up to Dean “and get out, this is the female bedroom only.”

Dean mumbled an apology and quickly left. Apparently, searching that room will have to wait.

He entered the lounge area, sighing and scratching the back of his head. It’ll be more of a challenge to find what’s causing this thing with the other residents around. The house was big enough on its own, and by the time he gets out of here it will probably be too late to find Sam and Cas. Dean tilted his head up and closed his eyes, racking his brain to come up with a better tactic to investigate.

“Is Seraphina giving you a hard time?”

Dean turned to find another woman, this time with raven hair, approaching him from the hallway he just came from. “Who?” he asked, trying to be subtle.

“Seraphina, that blonde you were just talking to? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear your –very short– conversation you had.”

“Oh, right,” Dean played along. “What’s her deal anyway? She doesn’t seem to like me that much.”

“Well duh, you’re the reason her best friend got voted out of the house, naturally she’s going to hold a grudge.”

“Wait hang on, she was best friends with Victoria?” Dean asked, surprised, “She didn’t mention that.”

“Being the first one voted out is hard, but it’s worse for the friends and family,” the woman stated, looking back in the direction of the female bedroom.

“Victoria was the first one voted out?” Dean interrogated, “Who else is left?”

“Um, well there’s Seraphina, me, you, Norbert, Josh, Addy, and Spencer,” she answered, a bit confused about why Dean would ask.

“That’s it? Just us seven?”

“Yes?”

“Where are the others?”

“Last I saw, Nobert and Spencer, were hanging out by the pool,” she pointed in the direction behind Dean.

“Thanks.” Dean took off, eager to go find whoever these people are. Maybe they’d have some insight or answers.

“Hey! Wait up!” the raven-haired woman called, jogging to catch up.

“Alrighty Castiel, are you ready for your first question?” the announcer asked, ignoring Cas’ confusion.

“I don’t understand, what purpose does answering a quiz serve?” Cas continued to question.

The announcer chuckled, before lifting up his notecard so he could read aloud, “What was the name of the Winchester’s father figure?” He turned to Cas, the whole studio waiting to see if the angel would answer correctly.

Cas stayed silent for a moment, wondering what exactly was going on. Eventually, he gave his response, “Bobby Singer.”

Everyone held their breath, anxious to hear the announcer’s confirmation.

“You are…. CORRECT! That’s five points to Castiel!”

“Yes, but do any of you know where I could find Dean–?”

“Shannon!” The announcer moved on, “Are you reading for your first question?”

“Um…o-okay,” the woman named Shannon shakily agreed.

“Great! Your first question is…. Which city was the first to reach a population of 1 million people?”

Shannon was biting her fingernails, doing her best to think of the correct answer. “I-I…um… maybe,” she stammered out, “maybe…Greece?”

The studio was silent, looking to the announcer for a hint on the results.

The announcer frowned, “I’m sorry, but the correct answer is ‘Rome’.”

The audience collectively groaned as the buzzer sounded and red lights flashed.

“That’s one X for Shannon! Remember folks, if you get 3 Xs it’s automatically GAME OVER!”

Cas leaned in toward the closest contestant next to him, a guy named ‘Devin’, and whispered, “What does ‘game over’ mean in this situation? I’m assuming nothing good because we are not currently in a pixelated format on a screen.”

Devin sent Cas a worried look, “It means you die.”

Cas turned to face the front, resuming his stoic expression, “Oh.”

“So, Sam! Which one of these beautiful ladies would you like to take the time to know first?”

Sam said nothing, darting his eyes between the demons. Ruby was smiling sweetly, Meg was fixing her nails, and Lilith was twirling her hair around her finger. They weren’t acting anything like their usual selves (given that not even one of them was currently trying to kill Sam), so there’s a high chance that the demon ladies are fake. This means, that this “dating show” isn’t real either. There are only a few entities that Sam knows of that could have the power to pull off a stunt like this, and there are a dozen more he doesn’t know about.

“Mr. Winchester,” the host of the show halts his thoughts, “are you alright?”

Sam focuses his attention back on his current situation. The whole studio had gone silent, and the host and three demons were staring at him intently.

Sam nods his head, “Um, I'd like to speak to Ruby first please?"

The audience exclaims “ooh” and “ahh”, obviously expecting that answer. Fake Meg and Fake Lilth sent glares toward Fake Ruby, while the latter only smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder before making her way toward Sam.

The host of the show chuckles, winking at the audience. “Alrighty you two love birds, head on into the ‘dating’ room, and get to know each other to find out if you’re a match or not!”

Fake Ruby grabbed Sam’s hand and led him to a pink door that was apparently behind him the whole time, blowing a kiss to the audience as she walked past. She pulled him into the room and shut the door behind her, leaving them alone together.

The “dating” room was covered in hearts. There were heart stickers all over the wall, heart pillows all over the couches, a heart-shaped carpet on the floor, and pink lights hanging from the ceiling. It was an attempt to make the inhabitants cozy, but in reality, it made Sam fairly uncomfortable. The forced “romantic atmosphere” did nothing to ease his suspicions about what was really happening in this fake reality.

“So,” Fake Ruby took a seat on the couch across from Sam, “what would you like to know?”

“Hm?”

“You asked to learn more about me? In order to help you choose between contestants?”

“Oh, right. Um,” Sam thought, “let’s just start with the basic questions, like, where did you grow up, what’s your family like, and what are some of your favorite things to do?”

“Okay, well, I grew up in Frisco, Texas. I have two younger sisters, both in their teen years, an adorable Goldendoodle named Rover, and a wonderful mother and father. I’d say we’re pretty close, we all go out for a family breakfast on Saturdays. I like to bake, walk my dog, solve jigsaw puzzles, and do yoga in my free time.” Fake Ruby flashed Sam a smile before asking, “ What about you? What are your interests?”

“Well, what do you know about me? I’m assuming you’ve done some background research before coming on the show?”

“I did, actually,” Fake Ruby replied with pride in her voice.

“Great!” Sam was relieved to finally get some actual answers that could potentially help him figure out what was going on. “What did you learn?”

“You’re an only child, with two golden retriever dogs, both adorable by the way. You’ve been searching for a new girlfriend for some time now, and all of your previous relationships have ended up with you getting your heart broken, so you were hesitant to get back in the game. You enjoy fishing, going to the park, and watching movies. Oh! And your favorite food is bacon, but your favorite dessert is your mom’s homemade and fresh mango ice cream.”

“See, but that’s not right,” Sam declared.

Fake Ruby scoffed, offended at Sam’s accusation, “Excuse me?”

“You’re not supposed to be some “perfect family” girl, you’re supposed to be a badass, backstabbing, evil demon.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” the outraged imposter stood up from the pink couch.

“And I’m not some bachelor like you said. Our backstories are fake, it’s all wrong. Someone here knows about my life and is using it for entertainment purposes. This whole “Dating Show” thing is staged, none of us are like that in real life.”

“Wait, what do you mean someone is staging this? Listen to yourself, Sam, this makes no sense! It’s a ridiculous theory!”

Sam ignored her outburst, continuing to explain his thoughts out loud, “There’s gotta be some kind of control room,” he concluded.

“Control room?” she repeated, sounding skeptical.

“Control room?”

Fake Ruby’s voice echoed through the otherwise silent hallway. Blue light spilled on the floor, creating a path that came from the last room in the hall, the only one with the door cracked open. The room itself was decorated with cameras on the walls, with a single desk and chair sitting in the middle. It was currently unoccupied, which meant that someone was definitely getting fired.

Sam and Fake Ruby were depicted on the sixth camera in the middle row, just left of the doorway. To the camera left of them, Dean could be seen searching a kitchen, carefully checking every so often that he was still alone. Cas was on the other side, still standing behind his podium, listening to the announcer ask another contestant a question. Under each camera, there was a label, explaining what type of simulation the contestant was engaged in. Next to that, there was a counter keeping track of the rates, most of which were highlighted in green.

On the desk there was another set of cameras, this time showing the few entrances to the studios. Normally, they’re just watched for precautions to assure that nothing is interfering with the process. Normally, nothing interesting ever happens on those security cameras. But today was anything but normal.

The remarkable only happened for a second, a “blink and you’ll miss it” type of thing. The center camera’s image flickered, before returning to its original picture. Yet something was out of place.

Hidden in an ordinary corner where no one ordinary would spot it, there was a box. But this box was anything but ordinary, as it always had a habit of being in the right place whenever it was needed. Its blue color acted as a symbol of hope to those who recognized it (or a symbol of trouble, it depended on who you asked).

The atmosphere felt as though the rest of the world was holding in an awaiting breath as the door to the blue “Police Box” opened, and a man wearing red Converse shoes stepped out.

Asking Norbert and Spencer had produced about as much information as Seraphina did. Dean was able to do a quick search of the kitchen before going out to talk to them, but it hadn’t produced any results. But apparently, Victoria has been everybody’s favorite and Dean being the final vote to get her out left him with a bit of a reputation. So naturally, none of the residents wanted to talk to him, but if they did it wasn’t anything that useful. The only useful things he learned during the exchange were that Norbert was currently studying to be a nurse, Spencer used to play professional basketball until he went on to be a software developer currently working for Google, and the raven-haired woman’s name was Alison but everyone called her “Ali”. Hopefully, Sam and Cas were having an easier time figuring out what the hell was going on and how to get back home.

They entered back into the house, Dean experiencing the familiar feeling of frustration and disappointment falling on his shoulders. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, nobody here thought anything was out of place. Eventually, he had to leave the conversation with Norbert and Spencer once they started asking him questions, not willing to risk the possibility of him slipping up. But unfortunately, it seemed that the raven-haired woman, Alison, wasn’t as willing to give up on figuring out Dean.

“So, why are you here?” Alison asked Dean, closing the sliding glass door behind them.

Dean had given up searching a long time ago, collapsing on the couch in defeat. It seemed that no matter where he looked or how many times he searched, there was nothing tying the isolated house to the outside world.

“Why am I here?” Dean repeats, confused about why Alison would ask such a question.

“Yeah, did you get picked or did you volunteer or is there something else going on?” she clarifies.

“Well I..,” Dean struggles, and fails, to think of a good reply. “You first,” he misdirects.

Alison catches on to Dean’s avoidance, “I asked you first,” she chuckles.

“Yeah? Well, I insist.”

“Well, if you insist,” Alison teases. “I volunteered.”

“Why?”

“Because I need a new risk in life. I knew what I was getting into, and I made my choice”

“What do you mean?”

“I put my faith in the wrong person, and it led me down a road of nothing good. Loss of friendships, no motivation, yada yada yada. I got over it by doing stuff like extreme rock climbing, diving trips, and gardening. It worked for a while. But now I want something on a bigger scale.”

“But what if you lose?”

Alison shrugged, “Then I lose. What matters to me is the experience, not the reward.”

“I’m guessing most people don’t see it that way?”

“Nobody sees it that way, almost everyone who comes here is either picked or here for the money.” She lets out a small sigh, glancing out the window to where Norbert and Spencer were still outside. “It seems greed has a way of overtaking people and spoiling the idea of doing something fun.” Dean hums in agreement, breaking Alison out of whatever trance she was in. “Anyway,” she brings them back to the current topic, “why are you here? I’m willing to bet it’s not for the same reason as me,” she chuckles.

“No,” Dean shoots her a fraction of a smile, “I was chosen, didn’t have much of a choice but to be here. My brother Sam and I got separated. I've been looking for a way to give him a message and let him know I’m okay.”

“Do you miss them? Your family back home?”

Dean thinks for a moment, debating on how much he should reveal to a woman he only just met a few hours ago. “Yeah,” he pauses, “yeah I do. My parents kicked the bucket pretty early, so it’s just been me and my brother for a few years now. After a while, Cas entered the picture, and since then we’ve formed a type of family bond over time.”

Alison raised her eyebrow at Dean's mention of Cas. “And just who is this ‘Cas’ fellow? Someone important I’m guessing?” she commented, curious why all of sudden a pink hue dusted Dean’s cheeks when she asked.

“He’s a friend of mine, my best friend to be exact. We didn’t get along all that well when we first met, but then we eventually grew to be friends,” Dean clarified.

“Are you sure that he’s ‘just a friend’? That's it, nothing more?”

“Well, yeah. Why, what else were you thinking?”

“Nothing, it’s just… you haven’t mentioned anything about a romantic relationship, which is what most people who come here tend to reflect on the most,” Alison explained.

“And that’s what you thought was going on with me and Cas?” Dean added, attempting to shoot down Alison’s claims.

“Of course, you haven’t mentioned anyone else other than your brother while you’ve been here, and it’s quite obvious how you feel about this guy.”

“He’s more of an angel, really…” Dean mumbled under his breath, but Alison heard nonetheless.

“Exactly! Who calls someone ‘an angel’ if they don’t have a strong feeling toward them?” she points out.

“There’s nothing between me and Cas, just friendship,” he continues to insist.

“Hmm, that’s not what your face says,” Alison teases, noting the blush that is still lightly coating Dean’s cheeks.

Dean scoffs and turns to the window, “Nah. Besides, Cas doesn’t swing that way or feel anything like that and neither do I.”

“That’s not the signal I’m picking up.”

“Oh yeah, and how would you know?”

“Trust me, women have a special talent for figuring out this kind of stuff,” Alison winked.

“Really?” Dean questioned, skeptical of the statement.

“Really really,” Alison says with a grin, refusing to let the subject drop.

Dean just rolled his eyes, choosing not to reply. Alison thought for a moment, studying his reaction carefully like she was trying to reach a conclusion on just who Dean really was. After a moment or two, she gave a small sigh and opened her mouth, preparing to ask him another question.

“Attention all contestants, the Discussion Room will be opening soon. Please report down once your name is called, thank you,” the voice belonging to the woman dressed in white sounded through the house over the intercom system.

Dean turned back to Alison, “What’s the ‘Discussion Room’?”

“It’s the room where they call contestants down to have a monologue they’ll record for the audience,” she replied, “it gives them an ‘inside view’ to the house and everything going on.”

“And we’ll get called down one by one?”

“Yup,” she confirmed, “but be careful–”

“Dean Winchester, report Discussion Room,” the woman’s voice interrupted again, cutting off whatever Alison was going to say.

“Well then,” Dean shifted the topic away from their previous conversation, “I guess I better get down there.”

“Good luck,” Alison gave a small salute to him.

Dean nodded to her as maneuvered around the furniture. “I’ll need it,” he replied under his breath as he left the room.

Chapter Text

Cas sat down at one of the tables off-camera. The game show contestants were currently on a break, apparently, they got one every two hours in order to prevent any overthinking from answering questions for too long. There had been four more X’s given out before the break. Shannon received one more after incorrectly guessing what the capital of Vietnam was, one was given out to Devin, and the last two were obtained by a contestant named Osmund. Cas took a long swing from the water bottle he was given, despite the fact that angels don't require water to live. He stares ahead at the door on the other side of the studio where the show was being held. It was illuminated by an exit sign that was lit with bright red lights, almost like it served as a warning rather than a way to escape. A sound to his right breaks his concentration, forcing him to tear his gaze away from the looming door. Devin sits down next to him, unaware of the spell he broke.

“So,” Devin breaks the silence, “how are you feeling about the next round?”

Cas catches on to Devin’s attempts at easing the tension, “Oh, um, I suppose that the questions will be harder.”

If Devin notices the uncertainty in Cas’ response, he doesn’t mention it. “Yeah, I’m a bit worried about that.”

“Why?” Cas inquires, “You’ve answered all but one question correctly in the first round, by all means, you should not be any less confident in yourself.”

Devin chuckles at Cas’ statement, “Thanks, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t get another two wrong in the second round. Anything could happen, and I’d really like to avoid getting disintegrated.”

“Is that the method used once a contestant fails?” Cas asked, trying to gain more information.

“That’s the one,” Devin confirmed with a nod of his head.

“I see,” Cas turns his attention back to the door.

Devin clears his throat, reigning Cas’ attention. “So,” he beings, “why are you here?”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Is there someone or something you want to get out of this? A problem you need to solve?”

Cas thinks for a moment. “I need to find Dean,” he concludes.

“Oh? Is Dean a brother or yours? A friend maybe?”

“My friend. My best friend, in fact.”

“And you’re worried about him?”

“He tends to do…foolish things when he is by himself,” Cas elaborates.

“How foolish are these things?”

“They usually often result in someone getting hurt.”

“Is that someone Dean?”

“Most of the time, but I am always there to heal him if needed.”

Devin picks up on the comment, “Always? Are you sure you are not something more than friends?”

“I don’t get what you mean by ‘more than friends’, we are not biologically related to be brothers.”

“No I mean... look, do you care for him? Like, a lot more than compared to his other friends?”

“It’s hard to tell, he doesn’t have many other friends. But based on the evidence…perhaps…” Cas drifted off, getting lost in thought. There was a strong possibility that he cared the most for Dean out of the few friends Dean has, so there was also the possibility that Devin’s question was correct. “Perhaps…yes, I might.”

“Okay, then, that’s cool too,” Devin responds as Cas turns his head back to the door and tilts it in confusion. “Can I ask you something else?” he probes before Cas could completely zone out again.

“I suppose,” Cas agrees. “I am told that is normal human nature.”

“Why do you keep looking at the exit door?”

“I’m trying to figure something out,” Cas explains.

“What?”

“Why don’t those who want to leave just walk out the door? It is clearly marked as a way to leave.” He turned to Devin, confused that everybody seemed to be avoiding the door like the plague.

“Because–”

Devin was cut off by a small cry from behind them, they both turned around to find the source of the commotion. Osmund, the only receiver of two X marks in the first round, dashed around the other contestants who were taking a break heading in the direction of the door. The other contestants held their breath, waiting for something to happen. What exactly, Cas had no idea.

A man, who was dressed in all black and supposedly part of the crew, aimed a long, red, gun-like object at a still-running Osmund. “Contestants are not allowed to leave until the game is finished,” he states, pulling the trigger.

A ray shoots out from the tip, hitting Osmund directly in his back. In a flash of red light, Osmund is gone and only a pile of dust remains from where he was standing. Satisfied, the man turns around and goes back to whatever he was working on before. A somber atmosphere hangs over the studio as conversations resume.

“That. If you try to escape, you die too. There’s no way out of this but to play and win,” Devin continues from where he was cut off earlier.

“Isn’t that extreme? Are there not any rules against it?” Cas glances back to where the remnants of Osmund were still on the floor.

“Nope, no rules. Just be the best out of everyone and you’re home free, away from here.”

Cas saw his opening, “And where is ‘here’?”

Devin responded without much thought, not taking his eyes off the door and Osmund, “The Game Station, Satellite Five, orbiting around Earth.”

“Wait,” Cas interrupts, “we’re in space?”

The man with the red shoes walked away from the blue box, taking in his surroundings as he went. While he seemed to be out of place, he knew exactly what he was doing. He walked out of the restricted building that he landed the TARDIS in, revealing a market square full of busy people. He paused for a moment to take in the view before stopping a nearby passer.

“Excuse me,” he asked, pointing behind him, “would you mind telling me what this rather large building is behind me?”

“That’s the Game Station Center,” she answered, giving a nod to a security guard in the corner that was watching them.

The man noticed and gave the guard a little wave. He waited until the guard shifted his attention away from them before he spoke again, “Right. So, that places us where again?”

The woman looked at him confused, but replied, “Satellite Five.”

“Satellite Five, wow, haven’t been here in a while,” he glances around again, “looks good.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman draws his focus back, “but who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” he stuck out his hand for her to shake, “nice to meet you.”

She took it reluctantly, “Doctor what?”

“Oh, just ‘Doctor’,” he clarified.

“Right,” she skeptically dropped his hand and resumed walking, leaving the Doctor by the station’s heavy door.

The Doctor waved as she walked away then turned his attention back to the ominous building looming over the rest of the market. As soon as she’s out of sight, he walks up to it and crouches down where the door meets the ground. He tries to push on the door, willing it to let him back into the station. When that doesn’t work, he gives a quick glance around and then grabs some sort of device from inside his coat pocket, pointing it towards the cracks of the door. The sonic screwdriver scanned the elements of the door, determining what exactly was preventing the door from opening again.

"Oi! Just what do ya think you're doing?" The guard from before asked, coming up behind the Doctor.

"Oh, just uh– standard routine check," The Doctor answered.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, what with a big important station like this, well, there are several inspections that need to be done," he explained.

"See, that's funny, 'cause we had the inspections done just last week."

The Doctor stops what he's doing and stands up to face the guard. "Well," he flips the screwdriver in the air before shoving it into his pocket, "wish you had told me that sooner, otherwise, I'd continue an already finished job!"

The guard chuckles, the Doctor's response easing the tension.

"So sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm the Doctor, pleased to meet you!" The Doctor shakes the guard's hand.

"I'm Dan, the security guard around here."

"Nice to meet you, Dan," the Doctor turns back to the station building. "Still, quite large for an entertainment station, isn't it?"

"Oh well, that's because there are multiple programs being filmed at once. It makes it easier to get things done, you know?"

"Oh sure, sure. So, you would know all about the magic that happens in the station?"

"Oh no, no." Dan shakes his head and steps back, "I just keep watching out here, but one of my mates is security inside and knows about it a bit."

"Oh, is that so? Good pal then, your mate?"

"I suppose so."

“Right, and how would one get inside it?”

"The– the game station?" Dan questioned, his suspicion of the Doctor returning.

"That's the one!" The Doctor confirms, ignoring the guard's reaction.

“You don’t,” Dan gruffed. He gave the Doctor one more hard stare and walked away.

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that."

The Doctor gave a short glance over his shoulder to confirm that nobody was watching this time. He took out the sonic screwdriver again, making quick work of the lock that was built into the station door. Silently, he opened the door and slipped inside, ensuring that it latched behind him.

“Now what are they hiding in here?”

The Doctor only traveled a few feet before the detector went off

“Oh, that is interesting. But what caused you to go off?” he asked the device, moving forward to follow the constant dinging from the detector.

He passed several doors, some green, a few purple, and one suspicious looking red one. But still, the noise emanating from the machine kept a steady pulse from when it first began.

“Nothing out of the ordinary yet it seems,” the Doctor voiced out loud, moving the gadget around at different angles. He looked at all the different doors before one caught his eye. The door was orange, but it was the words written on it that drew his attention. It was written in what appeared to be black spray paint, saying, “ENTERTAINMENT PSYCHOS!”

He put his glasses on, leaning in closer for a better view.

“How peculiar,” the Doctor makes a mental note of where the door was before continuing to follow the detector’s path.

He only made it past three more doors (all different shades of yellowish colors) when the beeping went haywire, and the Doctor stopped at a blue door with silver lettering.

“Now that is something! Let’s take a look, shall we?”

He tried the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked. As he pulled out the sonic screwdriver again he internally sighed, “Why do they never just leave it unlocked?”

It only took a few seconds before the screwdriver was able to open the door, the deadbolt clicking from inside. As soon as it’s finished, the Doctor tucks it back into his inside pocket.

“Alright then, time to see what all the fuss is about,” he attempted to conceal the timey-wimey detector behind his back as the door opened and he took a step inside.

“Ah, Mr. Winchester,” the woman acknowledges him as he enters the room where she had clearly been waiting for him, “you sure were fast to get down here.”

“Yeah, well the sooner the better, right?” Dean jokes, attempting to ease the tension.

“Indeed,” she flashes him a fake smile.

“So,” Dean continues, “how does this work?”

“You’ll enter the Discussion Room, which is the one with the red door. As soon as the light on the camera comes on you can begin talking” she answered.

“Right, and is there anything specific I should discuss?”

“There’s nothing too specific. Just state your name, some details of your life so the audience gets a feel for your personality, and then talk about life in the house.”

“Seems simple enough.”

“Yes, that was the intention,” she turns back to him. “Whenever you’re ready Mr. Winchester.”

“Thanks, Miss…?”

“Chambers. Ms. Amberly Chambers, your host,” she clarifies. She lifts her arm, gesturing to the blue door behind her, “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean nods to Ms. Chambers, and takes a deep breath, then enters the so-called “Discussion Room”.

There is a single red couch facing a camera. The walls are painted a baby blue, with posters of what Dean assumed to be previous contestants hung from almost every wall. Except for the wall behind the camera, where the mirror covered the entire wall and made it impossible for Dean to see anything but himself. He took a seat on the couch and examined the room. Other than the posters, there was nothing else to provide a clue about where the house was located. The only way to exit the room was through the door he came in. Needless to say, it was very efficient at making it all about the contestant without giving anything important away.

The camera’s light switched from green to red, which Dean took as a sign to start talking to the imaginary audience in the room.

“Um, hey… world, I guess. My name is Dean Winchester, and I’m from Lawrence, Kansas. I suppose I got chosen to be here. Um…my brother’s name is Sam Winchester, and we spent a lot of time growing up together. Mary is my mother, and Cas is my boy–"

He pauses, Alison’s words about Cas come back to him.

“.... boy…friend. Shit! I–uh, as in BOY SPACE FRIEND. He’s not my boyfriend.” Dean starts to get flustered, “It’s important to note that there is a platonic *SPACE* between boy and friend. I mean, he’s my baby– uh bro. He’s my baby bro. I mean, he’s like a thousand years older than me but he’s still my baby…bro. He’s still my baby bro,” Dean attempts to clear up. “We’re bro-mo-sexual. Bromos! We’re bromos. Just bros. Yeah, bromos, that’s a thing. Right. I’m not in love with Cas.”

Dean decides to end the subject of Cas there, quitting before any more embarrassing things can come out of his mouth.

“Have I mentioned that Sam is my brother?”

Dean lets out a nervous laugh and shoots a weak smile to the camera, wishing that this whole thing never happened and Alison never questioned his feelings for Cas because he knows what his feelings for Cas are and it’s not what Alison implied because that’s ridiculous and it’s not like Cas would feel like that anyway right they’re just best friends and that’s it nothing more….nothing more…..

God, his life was so much easier before he appeared in this stupid freaking house. Back when he was just in the bunker, drinking beer and eating the best hamburger money can buy. Dean nervously pats his legs and looks around, refusing to meet his eyes with the camera.

The door opens to reveal Ms. Chambers, “Mr. Winchester, time’s up.”

“Oh thank god,” Dean mumbles under his breath. He rushes to get up, darting past Ms. Chambers and the next contestant waiting outside the door.

He quickly made his way through the house and to the backyard. Thankfully, there was no one else there so he won’t look crazy if he just stands there and questions everything right now.

If, hypothetically, Alison had some truth to her words… could he keep Cas or Sam from noticing? But that's to say that they were both oblivious to whatever feelings he had in the first place. Oh god, what if they already knew? Alison could tell fairly quickly and he had only met her a few hours earlier, he's known Cas much longer than that and Sam even more. And if, hypothetically, he were to admit any feelings, would…. would Sam see him differently?

Dean scoffed out loud, bringing his hand to run the back of his neck. Sam loves him no matter how badly he fucks up, surely something as small as this wouldn't change anything either. Right? Right. Right, right, right.

But then, hypothetically speaking, how would Cas take it? Would he accept it or would he turn and run? Or what if…. what if Cas felt the same? What would it be like then? Should he say something or just let it be?

No, no, no, this is ridiculous. He's not just going to sit here and contemplate his fucking feelings on some bullshit reality tv show universe.

Dean ran his hands down his face and let out a groan. Feelings are so much more complicated than they need to be.

A soft tapping comes from behind him. "Hey," it's Norbert, "You mind if I join you out here?"

"Sure," Dean gestures ahead of him, "why not?"

Dean expects him to move past and go settle down by the pool or something, but instead, Norbert sits next to him on the porch steps.

“So,” Norbert begins, “whatcha thinking about?”

“What makes you assume I’m thinking about anything?” Dean fires back without thinking.

Norbert puts his hands up in surrender and Dean realizes how he came across.

“Sorry," he apologizes, "I didn’t mean to sound so rude.”

“Nah, it’s okay man, sometimes you just think deep thoughts. I get why you’re defensive. What with the whole concept of secrecy bleeding throughout the place," Norbert responds.

“Right, I just think deep thoughts…” Dean notices how ridiculous he sounds, “....in my mind.”

Thankfully, Norbert just nods and doesn’t point anything else out. Norbert takes a deep breath, "Look I–"

"Dean Winchester?" It's a contestant he hasn't met yet. Dean and Norbert turn around to find him standing at the open porch door.

"What do you need, Josh?" Norbert responds before Dean.

"Visiting hours have begun," Josh points behind him, "and there's someone here to see you, Dean."

Dean takes a quick glance at Norbert in confusion, "Who?"

Josh scoffs and shakes his head, "How am I supposed to know?"

"What's he look like?"

"Short dark hair, and a long coat."

Dean thinks for a second before mumbling under his breath, "Cas."

He shoots up from where he was sitting, making Norbert jump at his sudden speed. Dean passes Josh and re-enters the house without even saying a short "thanks". He practically runs to where he saw the door that Alison pointed out was for visiting back when he was getting a short tour from her while he was searching for clues.

The rooms of the house go by in a blur as he moves through them. He thinks he sees Alison at one point, talking with another contestant he has yet to meet, but he couldn't be too sure. All he is focused on is getting to where Cas must be waiting for him in the visitor room.

Dean bursts through the door labeled "Visiting Only" not even pausing to think about anything. He uses his momentum to swing it shut behind him, keeping the privacy away from the rest of the house.

"Cas, you have no idea–"

Dean stops, taking in whoever is actually standing in front of him. It's exactly like Josh said, short dark hair and a long coat. But the man isn't Castiel.

"Hello!" The strange man, who still isn't Cas, brings up his hand in greeting.

"You're not Cas," is all Dean manages to make his mouth say.

"Ah, no, sorry," the man shoves his hand in his coat pocket, "I'm the Doctor."

Chapter Text

“Aaand we’re back to ‘Know Your Trivia”!” The game host brings them back from their break once all the contestants are standing back behind their figurative prison cages, acting like Osmund wasn’t unfairly killed. “Let’s recap, shall we? Shannon is living life on the edge with two mistakes. Devin is on the board with only one question answered incorrectly, and poor Osmund was eliminated over the break due to undisclosed reasons. Which leaves both Castiel and Amelia at the top with zero questions wrong!”

The crowd let out cheers, making Cas give a small smile of pride in response.

“Alrighty then, let’s continue! Castiel, the next question goes to you.”

“I believe I am ready,” Cas verifies.

“Sounds great! And your question is: What was the hunter Rufus, a close friend of Bobby Singer and the Winchesters, favorite drink?”

"Johnnie Walker Blue Label."

“That’s correct! The angel Castiel with another correct answer, ladies and gentlemen and everything in between!”

“Excuse me,” the contestant named Amelia interrupts, “but why does he get different questions than the rest of us?”

The audience members murmur and nod in agreement with her. Clearly, in Cas’ opinion, they were a bit sour about how the leaderboard was arranged.

“I am willing to be asked more challenging questions if it pleases you,” Cas responds with a bite in his voice.

“Okay then, sounds like we have a compromise,” the game host cuts back in. “Castiel, your new question is: What is a major difference between amphibians and reptiles?”

Cas thought for a minute because there were several major differences between the two and he decided he needed to choose the best one. “Reptiles have hard-shelled eggs, while amphibians do not,” he answered confidently.

The host glanced down at his notecards. “Correct again, Castiel! Now, Amelia, the next question goes to you.”

“Let’s do this,” Amelia takes a deep breath that makes Cas want to roll his eyes.

“Alright! Your question is: During what time period did the dinosaur known as the Tyrannosaurus Rex live?”

“The Cretaceous Period, Oliver.”

“That is… correct!”

Amelia shoots Cas a smug look behind the host’s (who was apparently named Oliver) back.

“Shannon! The next question is yours, are you ready?”

“I um–sure,” Shannon was still nervous, and the tension between Amelia and Cas did nothing to help.

“Perfect! Bubble tea originated in which country?”

“.... China?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Shannon, but that is incorrect! The right answer is Taiwan.” Oliver awkwardly puts a hand on Shannon’s shoulder, “Now, I’m super sorry to do this, but that’s three strikes and I’m afraid you’re out.”

“No, wait–” Shannon tries to intervene.

“Buh-bye then!” the host waves to the camera across from Shannon.

Before Shannon can make another sound, two muscular guards approach her stand. They position themselves so one is flanking her on each side and quickly grab her arms to prevent any chance of escape. A completely different guard, this time dressed in all white, rolls in a much bigger version of the camera used on set. Shannon lets out a whimper as the guard in white powers the contraption on. He corrects its position to point at Shannon and puts on tinted-red shades.

Shannon is silently crying, "Please, no, please, I– please…"

Cas twists his head and whispers to Devin, "What's going on? What is that thing?"

"Shhh," he whispers back, "don't say anything. They might disqualify you."

Before Cas can respond, a bright green light shoots out and hits Shannon square in the chest. She opens her mouth in a slight scream as the beam overtakes her. The rest of the contestants, including Cas, all shut their eyes as the brightness increases. When they open their eyes, Shannon is gone and all that is left in her place are the glasses she was wearing. An unspoken mournful feeling hangs over the remaining contestants like a storm cloud.

“And that’s one more contestant eliminated! Just like that folks, we are down to three.” The host moves on without batting an eye, “Devin! Your turn!”

“I–uh… can I p–please call for a break?” Devin stammers.

Oliver stares at Devin before breaking out into a fake grin, “Sure thing! Break time, everybody!”

It took forever for Sam to get the imposter Ruby to stop talking and convince her to leave the “Dating Room”. It somehow took even longer to get the host to buy his excuse of needing more time to think about Fake Ruby as a candidate and put the show on break time. But with everyone distracted Sam finally had some time to peek around. Next step: find an exit from this cheesy place.

He was currently checking out the walls behind the actual set of the show, near where he fell through that stupid curtain. He ran his hands along the wooden panes, hoping to discover a crack that belonged to a secret exit room or something. He had already knocked on all the walls for passageways in the actual set itself, so he was running low on options.

"Five minutes until we're back on the air, everybody!" A crew member calls.

And time too, apparently.

Sam glanced back to where the crew member made the announcement. No one seemed to be coming to locate him yet, but he still needed to move quickly if he wanted to make some progress on figuring out where he was and how to get out. Then he would need to grab Dean and Cas from wherever they were and get back home.

He moved on from the walls to the hanging paintings and pictures instead. It took a minute, but when tilted the picture of an apple carved in the shape of a heart he was rewarded with a satisfying click of a hidden mechanism. Careful not to disturb any bystanders or the crew with his new discovery, Sam pulled at the frame. It acted as a handle as the wall it was mounted on slid to the side, revealing a hidden door marked with a sign labeling it has staff only.

He jiggled the handle, finding it locked. Naturally.

Regardless, it was still a way off the cheesy studio, and better than nothing. Now, if he could just–

"Mr. Winchester? May I ask what you're doing?"

Shit. That annoying host found him.

He turns around with what he hopes is a smile of innocence on his face, "Oh, I was just looking for the uh- bathroom."

"Ah," the host smiled right back, "I see. Well, the lavatory would be located that way." He pointed to a small hallway across the set, almost completely hidden by audience seats.

"Right. I guess I'll- um just go use it then." Sam began to walk toward where the host had pointed. Maybe there was another way to escape from there.

"Hurry back," the host calls to him as he moves past him, "we're about to start again and we can't do that without our star."

Sam kept a particularly rude comment to himself.

Instead he nodded in response, speeding up to a small jog once the host had turned his attention back to the director again. A nearby cameraman sent him a glare as he met his eye. Sam gave a meek smile in response.

It was fairly hard to not notice the bathroom. The door was bright red and had a frame made out of pink hearts, because apparently when you run a dating show everything has to fit the romance theme. The inside was somehow more obnoxious, which was something Sam definitely didn't think was possible at this point. On the walls (which were also pink) were golden stars with joyous faces on them. The sink mirror had lights circling it, decorating the sink like it was a Broadway musical. The only thing that was actually ordinary colored were the toilets, although Sam didn’t think anybody could do anything while being stared at by a thousand smiles.

He turned on the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror and mentally went over his plan.

Step 1: Discover what he was doing here. Complete.
Step 2: Find a possible exit to this place. Also complete.
Step 3: Somehow trick the host and the other members into letting him escape. (Easier said than done)
Step 4: Locate Dean and Cas.
Step 5: Successfully get back to where the first was before they ended up here and go home.
Step 6: Chalk all of this up to another crazy-ass experience.

Solid plan, Sammy. His inner voice (which sounds a lot like Dean's) tells him.

Okay, so he’s already finished the first two steps, on to step three. Tricking the fake…. everybody into some distraction that’ll provide him cover to escape through the secret exit he found. He just needs something important enough to happen for his plan to work. Maybe he could pull the fire alarm, or damage one of the cameras bad enough that they take time to fix it? Sam sighs, it’d be much easier if he had an actual trickster with a higher power here like Gabriel or even Cas to help.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

A sharp tapping on the bathroom door halts Sam’s train of thought.

“Mr. Winchester? Are you alright in there?” The host’s voice calls from the other side.

“I–uh, yes I’m fine,” Sam responds.

“Are you ready to come out and resume the game then?”

“Uh, no, I need a little longer. I’m not quite ready yet.”

The locked handle jiggles, “What are you doing Mr. Winchester? It’s time to go on the air.”

Fantastic, the host wasn’t buying it. “Oh, I’m just touching up,” Sam scrambles to come up with a believable answer. “Don’t want to look like a complete mess, you know?”

A click resonates through the bathroom as the door is unlocked. The host walks in and Sam sees a glimpse of a crew member putting a key back into their pocket through the crack of the closing door.

“Ah,” the host stops in front of Sam, “I see. You’re nervous.”

“What? No, I–”

“No worries, Mr. Winchester,” the host pulls Sam aside, “that’s perfectly normal.”

Sam flashes him a fake smile, “I guess I’m just worried about choosing the wrong girl.”

“I understand, Mr. Winchester. You have an enormous weight to bare on your shoulders. The pressure of choosing correctly can be quite overwhelming. But rest assured, we’ll do everything in our power to help in your decision-making.” The host pats Sam on the shoulder and clicks his tongue, “We don’t want to send people to their deaths if it’s unnecessary, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam’s attention snaps back, “Wait, what deaths?”

“... You’re the–what now?” Dean was still monumentally baffled at the fact there was some random dude who he never met here to visit him.

"I'm the Doctor," he repeated, not showing anything near the level of confusion Dean was.

"Okay…. and you're here to visit me, why? Are you a hunter too?" Dean asked. Although, the dude certainly didn't look like a hunter.

But then again, neither did Garth so he probably shouldn't judge too hard.

"Ah, yes, well…I'm not actually visiting, I'm just here to take a look at the Station, really," this so-called 'Doctor' answered. "But, if you have any information about this that could be useful it'll be loads of help."

"Sorry man, I barely know what the hell is going on here myself." Dean gave an awkward chuckle.

"I see. Still, I suppose you could lend a hand by helping me investigate this room."

"Uh– yeah, sure. I guess, right?"

"Splendid! Would you mind searching that desk for me?" The Doctor nods to the desk behind Dean.

"Yeah, alright."

The Doctor focuses on the window across the room, while Dean moves to examine the desk. He knows he should be looking for clues to help escape, but he can't seem to let go of the whole "uninvited guest visiting-but-not-really-visiting" thing. He paused, glancing back at the Doctor. If this man is telling the truth, maybe he could aid Dean in finding Sam and Cas. That is, assuming he's not some plant assigned to spy on the contestants. Dean might be new to the extreme reality show concept, but he's fairly confident that the strategy would be used in this situation. He's still staring at the Doctor when the man in question meets his gaze and points to the wooden furniture behind him. Dean nods his head in return and the Doctor resumes his investigation.

Dean turned his attention back to the desk he was supposed to be searching, but he remembered something that caused him to halt. Earlier, when he asked the Doctor why he was there, the Doctor responded that he wasn't visiting at all. So, how did he get into the room then? As far as Dean's checked, there's no way to get in and out of the house other than the door the host uses, but that's always locked. Maybe he was another contestant? One Dean missed previously? But no, that can't be it, all the contestants Alison mentioned weren't named 'Doctor'.

"Wait, so you're not a contestant or an approved visitor?" Dean breaks the silence.

"Afraid not," the Doctor confirms. He places glasses on his face, leaning his hand against a window frame to inspect the structure. "I'm just here to put a stop to the rather ridiculous losing penalty. Although, the competition does sound rather inciting. Well, except for the whole death part."

"But if you're not a contestant, how the hell did you even get in here?"

"Well, it wasn’t too hard, just some tinkering here and there. And of course,” he pulls some sort of small tool out of his coat, “can’t forget this lovely thing.”

“What is that, some sort of screwdriver?”

“Yup,” the Doctor gives it a flip before returning it to his pocket. “Sonic too, quite helpful in dealing with situations such as these.”

“And that would be what exactly?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, even though he already knows the answer.

“The game show,” the Doctor raises his arms and gestures around the room. “Apparently, the human race still has a love for entertainment shows…” he clicks his tongue, “...even deadly ones.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffs in agreement, “you got that right.”

He’s about to continue aiding in the search before he notices another device the Doctor has in his other hand, the one facing away from Dean. It’s much bigger than the one currently still in the Doctor’s pocket, and almost looks like a radio that’s had random parts attached to it.

“What’s that?” Dean points at it, finally drawing the Doctor’s attention away from the rather not suspiciously-looking window he’s been checking out this whole time.

“Hm? Oh! It’s my timey wimey detector, it goes ‘ding’ when there’s stuff.” The Doctor brings said “timey wimey detector” up so Dean can have a better view of it.

“Stuff?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Oh, all sorts of stuff. Big stuff, small stuff, mostly alien stuff.”

“Alien?” Dean stares up at the Doctor, suddenly no longer that interested in the whatever-you-call-it. Not when there is a potentially bigger problem at hand.

“Yep. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Dean scoffs again, this time in a less friendly way, “Bullshit. Aliens aren’t real.”

"Why did you call for a break?" Cas asks, approaching Devin from behind.

Devin speaks without turning around, "I wanted a minute to think."

"Think about what?"

"Can I tell you a secret, Castiel?" Devin asks instead, changing the subject to avoid the question.

"Um, sure."

"I'm not actually here to prove that I'm super smart or anything, I'm really just average. I came here on a dare, I didn't think that my application would ever be accepted to compete. It wasn't supposed to go this far, I'm not good enough to carry on." Devin takes a deep breath before continuing, "That's why I know I'm going to fail next."

“What kind of dare is worth putting your life at risk, especially if you knew you would fail at the competition?” Cas asks.

“Some stupid rumor that I was going to prove to be true, even though everyone says otherwise,” Devin says, looking embarrassed. “But look, Castiel, you could win this thing for real. I saw the way Amelia looked at you, she sees you as a threat.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. So do me one last favor and win this thing. Win this and go find Dean.”

Cas hesitates, “Perhaps there is some way for you to–”

“No, Castiel. I know deep down that my time here is coming to an end. Just…carry on and get out of this hell. Because even though I can’t it doesn’t mean it’s over for you as well. There’s something special about you, Castiel, and you should prove that to everyone. Go beat Amelia, escape, and be happy away from this empty and soulless place.”

“Devin–”

“Promise me, Castiel. Promise me.”

“I–I promise,” Cas reluctantly swears.

Devin lets out a breath he had been holding, “Good.”

Before Cas can ask Devin any more questions, the host walks to where they’re standing off to the side and looms over them. “Alrighty, folks! Are you two ready to get back to the game?”

Devin looks at Cas, “Sure are.”

He gets up to follow the host back to his stand, only making it a few step before Cas reaches out to stop him.

Cas grabs Devin’s wrist, “Devin, before we resume I was wondering if I can ask you another question.”

Devin glances back to where the crew and Amelia are getting ready, “Oh, um– sure. What is it?”

“What was the rumor that you came here over?”

A small smile forms on Devin’s face. “A few friends of mine and I caught wind of a possible hidden exit in the station shows,” he explains. “Ones that don’t, you know, result in death.”

“Any lead as to where they might be located?”

Devin blows a raspberry, thinking. “Not much, just that they were hidden in plain sight. I’ve tried looking in a few places, but so far nothing.”

“Where have you checked?”

“The bathroom, the kitchen, backstage, but I was caught by the host when I was picking his dorm door.”

“I–wait. Hang on– the host has his own residence here?” Cas questions. He’s getting more suspicious about this place every time he learns more about it.

“Yeah, all the hosts have it for each show. Whether you play in a trivia show or some other one, they all have separate dorms for the host,” Devin confirms, not noticing Cas’ shift in tone.

“Interesting,” Cas whispers, just soft enough that Devin doesn’t hear it.

Chapter Text

Devin steps up to his stand on set, and Cas moves to his. Amelia shoots Cas a glare as the host announces to the audience that the cameras are now back on.

“For those of you who don’t remember,” the host starts, silencing any remaining chatter, “before we left for the break Shannon was eliminated and Devin has the next question.” He walks up to Devin, his note cards tight in his hand. “Devin! You ready for your trivia?”

Devin takes a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

“What is the flower that bears the message of ‘sensitiveness’?”

Devin sends a knowing look to Cas and replies, “A rose.”

A buzzer sounds, and Devin’s stand lights up red.

“I’m sorry,” the host says, his tone doing nothing to support his words of sympathy. “But the correct answer is Mimosa flowers.”

Cas can’t watch this time as the device is brought out again. He turns away as it’s being powered up, closing his eyes as he tries to picture himself somewhere else. Back home with Dean, eating take-out and watching a movie with him and Sam. Or being in the backseat of the Impala as the brothers argue out the specifics of a case they’re hunting down. Dean’s stubbornness wins almost every time.

The green light dimly flashes under his eyelids. He peels them open and turns to face Amelia, who stares him directly in the eyes. She seems to have no effect from Devin’s demise. If anything, she appears to be even more fierce and competitive than before.

“Oliver,” she calls, “I believe the next question is Castiel’s.”

Oh, the audacity of this bi--

“Yes,” the host steps up to Cas, “I believe you’re right, Amelia. Are you ready for your next question, Castiel?”

“Yes,” Cas responds through gritted teeth.

“Right,” the host is thrown off by the tension emanating from the angel. “What instrument is used to measure the strength of a magnetic field?”

Cas answers without hesitation, “Magnetometer.”

“That’s correct!” Oliver turns to Amelia, “Amelia, For which newspaper does Clark Kent work for?”

Amelia’s answer comes just as quickly as Cas’, “The Daily Planet.”

“Good job! Castiel, what does the suffix ‘-stan’ mean?”

“Place of.” Cas keeps his gaze pointed towards Amelia, refusing to break away first.

“Correct again! Amelia, which US state is nicknamed the ‘Land of the Midnight Sun’?”

Amelia’s response is even faster than last time, “Alaska.”

“Yes, that’s–that’s correct.” The host’s words are significantly slower than Amelia’s and Cas’, and Cas can’t help but wonder if it’s his attempt to even the pace in between the questions and their responses.

“Castiel, your turn,” Amelia sends a smirk in his direction.

It only feeds into Cas’ desire to win.

“Um, Castiel,” the host speaks up, “it is indeed your turn.”

Cas nods in return.

The host clears his throat and stands up straighter. “According to the Bible, what was Paul’s name before it was Paul?”

Oh, this one is way too easy. Cas thinks to himself before he responds to the question.

“Saul.”

“Correct! Amelia, Joe Louis became World Champion in which year?”

“1937.”

“Yes!”

How much longer will this continue? Cas wonders to himself. A small part of him is itching to hurry up and win against Amelia. But another part, one with Dean’s voice, is telling him something different.

Getting a little defensive, Cas?

It knocks sense into him. He should be working on escaping, not leading Amelia to her own death.

I apologize, apparently, I was more competitive than I thought.

Yeah, yeah. Cas’ inner voice Dean responds. Just focus on getting out of here, Cas.

“Castiel!” the host snaps his fingers, drawing Cas out of his thoughts. “I asked if you were ready to continue.”

Cas glances at Amelia. “Actually,” he counters, “I was wondering if we could take a small break, my throat is becoming sore.”

“Yeah, sure,” the host flashes Amelia a smile, “no problem. Take five, everyone!”

Cas immediately walks off the set, while the host moves past him towards Amelia. Cas pays them no mind, heading to the nearest lonely space with no one else around. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself and runs a hand down his face. Clearly, the strategy of a lightning round between him and Amelia can’t last forever. It’s safe to say that she knows several things and the possibility of her choking or messing up isn’t working. He needs to get out of here before he makes a mistake that’ll cost him.

“I’m telling you,” one of the crewmen passing Cas says, “it’ll be much easier if that trenchcoat guy would just lose already.”

“Yeah, but,” the other one continues, “he’s already been scripted to lose so what’s the big deal? The back and forth with Amelia just adds to the suspension the producers want.”

“Okay, but you have to admit it’s becoming tedious. In my opinion, it’s been going on for too long.”

“I see your point,” the second crewman ends the conversation there.

So, apparently the game was rigged from the beginning. Cas can practically feel his blood boiling in his veins. All the other contestants never stood a chance, it was always planned for Amelia to win. Innocent people died, Devin died, and their families would never get to see them again. For what? A game with unnecessary high stakes that doesn’t even matter anyway. Somehow, this world Cas was brought into might be worse than the one he left. At least monsters do everything for some sort of purpose and don’t give people false hope over killing them quickly.

*CREEEEAAK*

Cas darts behind a nearby pillar that is covered in posters of Oliver’s face. One of the producers peaks out of a door disguised as a wall. After glancing around to make sure the cost is clear, the producer enters the studio and swiftly shuts the door behind him. He straightens his tie and continues on to where the director and the host are talking to a cameraman.

Looks like Devin was right about the hidden exits after all.

Seeing nobody watching him, he starts towards the door. Reaching it, he turns the handle…and of course, it’s locked. Sighing to himself, he puts one of his hands in his pocket. Maybe there was a key lying around that he could–

His fingers touch something metal.

His phone had been missing ever since he first arrived here, and he kept nothing else in his pockets. Confused, he digs around and finds that the metal is also thin. And that there are two of them. He wraps his hand around whatever it is when it hits him.

The lock picks. Sam gave him a pair when he first started getting serious about joining them on hunts. He thought it was ridiculous at first considering as an angel he could just teleport into any locked building. Nonetheless, he kept them just in case (Dean insisted). Whoever, or whatever, took his phone must have skipped over them.

Sending a mental thank you to the Winchesters, he brings out the lockpicks and crouches down so he’s looking at the lock on the handle. Remembering the steps Sam told him about picking locks, he puts the picks in the keyhole. It takes a few tries, but eventually, he hears a solid *click*

Bingo. Or, as Dean would say, ‘Yahtzee.’

Whatever that is.

Before he can do anything else, a blaring alarm pierces the air and the studio lights start flashing red.

“Hey!”

Cas spins around to find a guard pointing at him from across the studio.

“You there, in the trenchcoat! Stop! Don’t move!”

His shouting captures the attention of everyone else, and a mixture of crew and guards rush toward Cas.

Standing up and hastily putting the lockpicks back into the safety of his coat, he tries the handle again. This time it’s unlocked.

He steps through before the guards have the opportunity to catch him.

"Quite confident about that," the Doctor responds, sounding almost offended at Dean’s comment.

"Well, yeah, it's impossible." Dean continues to insist.

"And how's that?"

Dean scoffs, “Look here, Doc, I’ve faced a lot of weird and strange, but not once has it been aliens. Ghosts to demons, you name it, pal. Sure, people will convince themselves to deal with it, and sometimes their excuse is ‘aliens’, but despite what everyone might say, aliens do not exist.”

The Doctor scratched the back of his head and let out a small sigh, “You’re willing to believe in small religions and superstitions, but not the fact that there might be whole undiscovered species out there?”

“Yes,” Dean crossed his arms, “because I’ve met those things and not an alien. Nobody has, because, once again, they’re not real.”

“Well,” the Doctor clicks his tongue, “I’m real, aren’t I?”

Dean pauses, holding up his finger, “Wait– you’re, an– hold on, seriously?”

“Yup,” the Doctor sticks his hands in his pockets again, “Alien, that’s me.”

Dean presses his lips and runs a hand down his face. He puts his hands on his hips, “So… you’re from some Krypton then? Spend most of your time flying around in tights?”

“Well, no. I’m from somewhere else, not Krypton, I’m afraid. Although, I can travel through time and space. ”

Dean nods his head, still trying to take it all in. “Strangely, the time travel thing I believe. But, you’re saying that technology reaches the point of some…super space travel?”

“Oh, sure. We’re in space right now, actually. It’s quite common in during this time period, ‘all the rage’ you could say.”

“So, where exactly are we then? The Enterprise?”

“Satellite Five,” the Doctor clarifies, “home to entertainment stations, citizens from all different planets, the newest technology, and decent chips. Used to be different before, but this version is better, in my opinion anyway.” He grabs the whatever-dectector and starts fiddling with one of the dials on it.

“What was it like before?” Dean asks.

“Oh you know,” the Doctor looks out the window, “just your standard evil alien who wants to rule over innocent people.”

“Then what are the ‘chips’ for?”

The Doctor turns to Dean, “Right sorry, American. I meant ‘fries’, which I said, are decent enough.”

Dean lets out a small chuckle, “Yeah, you’d think with all the team-ups with Crowley I’d have picked up on some British slang by now.”

“Crowley?”

“Yeah, he’s a–uh– colleague I work with sometimes. He can be helpful at times, but I don’t trust him too much.”

The Doctor hums, “I’ve had a few of those as well.”

An awkward silence settles over them. The Doctor goes back to searching the room, knocking on the walls surrounding the nearest bookshelf. Dean stands there watching him work, thinking back to Cas and Sam. Hopefully, they’re also on this ridiculous game station and not somewhere else in space.

“So,” Dean clears his throat and breaks the quiet, “how do you reckon I ended up in the murderous version of ‘Big Brother’?”

“Well, what time and place in space are you from originally?”

“Kansas, twenty-first century,” Dean tells him. Receiving no response from the Doctor at first, he continues, “So, any ideas, Doc?”

“No way to tell for sure, unfortunately,” the Doctor says from where he’s still looking through the books on the shelf.

“But if you had to guess?”

“My guess is it’s some spatio-temporal hyperlink.”

“Okay,” Dean agrees, ready to believe pretty much whatever this Doctor tells him, “and what’s that exactly?”

“It’s my word for ‘magic door’. Came up with it while I was on a spaceship with two mates of mine and a horse. Makes the ordinary term feel important.” The Doctor stands from where he was squatting and moves away from the bottom of the bookshelf. He crosses to the other side of the room, the one Dean still hasn’t moved from.

“Why is that relevant to our current situation on a game station in space?” Dean can’t help but ask.

“Well, on the spaceship were doors and a fireplace that all led to 18th-century, France.”

Dean catches on, “And you think that since I got booted across time and space it’s the cause of something similar?”

“Correctumundo,” the Doctor confirms. He walks over to the door leading back out to the game and gives Dean a grin as he opens it.

Dean sends a look of confusion in return and exits the visiting room.

“I thought it was rather appropriate that time.” He sighs, “Every single time…honestly, never saying that again.”

The Doctor follows behind Dean and closes the door.

Cas slams the door shut, grabbing a broom that was nearby and using it to brace the handle in place. He takes a step back as heavy pounding comes from the other side. His heart is still racing from the narrow escape. But he did it, he made it out of that rigged trivia game. Now all that he had to do was find Dean and Sam, maybe one of them had a plan on how to get home.

He turns away and surveys his surroundings. Apparently, he traded the deadly jeopardy for an endless hallway full of colored doors. Cas was willing to bet Sam’s laptop that the brothers were also behind one of these doors. But which one? There’s no guarantee that they ended up being in a quiz show environment like Cas, Devin did say that there were plenty of other “shows” to choose from. Maybe they landed in one that didn’t have death at all (though Cas doubted it was true).

Walking away from where shouting had now joined the consistent banging on the barricaded door, Cas traveled through the first section of the hallway. As he passed, he noticed something that seemed to be a lot more helpful than it actually was. Above each door was a counter that displayed a number in red lights. Some counters had numbers in the double digits, but the ones closest to Cas were all under the number ten.

“Strange,” Cas says out loud to himself, no one else around to hear.

He took a step forward towards the door under a red number 3.

Cas looks around the area for some lead as to what the purpose of the numbers is. There’s no wires or control box, and no…anybody to point Cas in the right direction. He tries the door, and just like his own, it’s locked. He checks his surroundings for a second time, finding nothing that could possibly serve as a key.

When he looks up at the red number again, it’s gone down from 3 to 2.

Cas leans in and puts his ear to the door, hoping that a noise could clue him in. There’s silence until a faint scream comes from the other side. Whatever is going on, Cas doesn’t believe it’s good. Unfortunately, he has no other option but to keep it in mind and move on. Once he finds Sam and Dean again and his powers return, he’ll double back and rescue as many as he can.

With no other choice, he rests his hand on the door in silence before continuing down the hallway.

He passes by more doors, not even bothering to check their numbers. He turns corners left and right, frequently checking over his shoulder in case guards are chasing after him. So far, nothing seems out of place or a suspicious clue that could lead him to the Winchesters.

He’s moving past a section of orange doors when he spots it. At first glance, it appears to be a regular orange door, similar to its neighboring ones. Although, Cas will admit this one is more of a tangerine orange than a pumpkin orange like the rest of them. Yet, it’s not the particular shade of the door that catches his eye, it’s the words written on it.

“Entertainment psychos,” Cas reads off. He tilts his head, “Those are rather strong words.”

He reaches out and brushes his fingers along the writing. Black spray paint comes off, smearing the words.

“It’s written fairly recently too,” Cas adds, despite the fact that there is still no other living being in sight to listen to him.

He glances around, confirming that he is still alone. If he’s been the only one here then who–

“Clear!”

“Check this way!”

Shouting echoes through the hallway, alerting Cas. It sounds like some sort of security team searching for someone. Whether they’re looking for him or not, Cas doesn’t want to stick around and find out.

He speeds off in the opposite direction of the voices, hoping that he chooses a way with an exit out of this place. Better yet, maybe he’ll find a map that could lead him to Dean.

Chapter Text

Both Dean and the Doctor don’t get far after leaving the visitor’s room before they, literally, walk right into Alison.

“Dean,” Alison catches his attention, “there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, I thought you were in trouble or something.”

“Alison? Alison, hey,” Dean quickly recovers, still a bit on edge from meeting the Doctor. “Uh, where’ve you been?”

“I was doing my one-on-one interview,” Alison says, noticing the Doctor behind Dean. “Who’s your friend?”

“Uh–he’s, um,” Dean tries to think of a reason he’d just suddenly reappear with someone who’s not a contestant on the show.

Thankfully, the Doctor beats him to it. He holds out his hand for Alison to shake, “I’m the Doctor, hello Ms…?”

“Alison,” she accepts it, “I’m Alison.”

“Anyway,” Dean changes the subject, “my friend, the Doc, here was wondering some stuff about the show. I thought that you’d know more than I do, so…”

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” Alison folds her arms over her chest, “What do you want to know?”

“Doc?” Dean steps aside and lets the Doctor take the lead.

“Ah, right. I was wondering, exactly how long has this program been running?”

“Um, several years as far as I know. Think it started about a decade ago?”

Dean butts in, “What type of shows do they record?”

“Oh, all kinds. There’s some trivia programs, fake reality, sitcoms, fashion, and even a dating one,” Alison answered.

“And, ah, do all the programs end –?” the Doctor cuts off, searching for words.

“Dark and depressing?” Dean fills in.

The Doctor nods at Dean, “I suppose you could say it like that.”

“Usually…” Alison starts counting on her fingers, making it to her second hand before she gives up, “.. yeah.”

The Doctor scrunches his nose, “Well, that’s rather dark, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. It doesn’t stop people from doing it, though.”

“Guess not.”

Before either of them could come up with another thing to say, Dean engages a heavy (and fairly terrible) random accent, “Oh yas, we go around chassin’ beasties and chose to get murdered in random telly programs.”

The Doctor shakes his head, “No, no, don’t do that.”

Dean closes his mouth, reluctantly letting the accent go.

“Is that all?” Alison asks, taking a glance at Dean.

“For now, thank you, you’ve been loads of help,” the Doctor smiles at her.

To Dean’s surprise, she flashes one right back. “No problem, happy to help.”

“Alright,” Dean speaks up, “are we ready to move on? Where to, Doc?”

“Well, statistically speaking, the most common place to hide something clever is in plain sight, so….” The Doctor thinks, mumbling things quietly to himself before saying, “Where would the most frequently used area be located?”

“Right this way, I’ll take you there,” Alison gestures at them to follow her.

The Doctor nods and falls in line behind Alison, leaving Dean to catch up last. They pass through the living room and the kitchen, heading for the backyard. Dean had only been out there twice, but last time he checked there wasn’t any sort of secret route leaving the house.

Alison opens the backdoor for them, “Throughout the years contestants usually hang out here the most, I suppose they do it because it’s the only way to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin in this place. Apparently, it’s thought of as a calling for hope.”

“Yeah,” Dean seems a bit lost in thought, “I get that.”

The Doctor strolled right past them, “There anything suspicious about this…” he looked around, “fairly… large yard?”

“Suspicious how?” Alison questions.

Dean speaks up, “Oh, you know, the simple ones. Strange temperatures or smells, possibly loud noises coming from weird places. Previous deaths usually qualify too, but considering what happens around here it isn't out of the ordinary."

Both the Doctor and Alison turn to him, sporting similar confused looks on their faces.

“Or,” the Doctor clarifies, “off-limit areas, spots where nobody goes even though everything seems normal.”

“Yeah…” Alison trails off, still judging Dean. She snaps out of it, “Yeah, there’s a spot over here.”

She beckons them to follow her, crossing to the side away from the pool. For someone who volunteered to be in this show-like situation, she seems to be excited to help out the Doctor.

Passing a small fountain with a baby angel posed on top, they rounded the corner to the side of the house. Instead of having a narrow strip of land, the side yard was almost as big as the actual yard. If that wasn’t suspicious enough, there was a normal-looking fence surrounded by what looked like neon orange tape.

Alison gestures around, “We’re not allowed to be back here, the producers said it was ‘too dangerous’.”

“Doesn’t seem like there’s anything dangerous here to me,” Dean points out.

Alison nods her head, “Exactly.”

Dean catches on, “So then why–?”

“Why do they say that there is,” the Doctor finishes.

He crouches down and grabs a fistful of dirt. Letting it run through his fingers, he examines it for what Dean hopes is some detail that will help them. Alison also seems to be interested in whatever the Doctor may discover. That is, assuming she already checked out this area before Dean arrived.

The Doctor grabs another handful of dirt, this time sweeping some of it with his finger and then tasting it.

Dean recoils, "Oh that's disgusting! Have you ever seen a horror movie? Rule number one, pal, is don't put anything even remotely suspicious anywhere near your mouth. Eight times out of ten it's something bad.”

Alison lets out a small laugh.

The Doctor ignores Dean’s comment, “There's a hint of metal in the soil. More than there should be, anyway.”

Alison voices Dean’s thoughts, “What does that mean? Something good?”

“Something very, very, good. It means…” The Doctor trails off as he moves toward the electrical box attached to the side of the house, “....there’s a way out of here.”

He opens the box and flicks one of the switches.

A low rumbling sound comes from the left. A section of the fence slides apart, revealing a metal door with faded lettering on the top.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathes.

Alison focuses on more important things, “How’d you know which switch controls the gateway?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” The Doctor replies, “Just guessed.”

Dean shrugs, he can worry about the Doctor’s reckless risk-taking habits later. Right now, they need to hurry up and get out the hell of here before anybody catches on. Then find Cas, and Sam, and go home. Maybe stop for burgers and pie on the way.

Dean is the first to make a move. He heads towards the door, walking slightly faster than he was before. Not that it was super noticeable. Hopefully not.

“Alright,” Dean eagerly asks, “How do we open this thing?”

“Assuming it’s locked in the first place,” Alison points out. “Or that this is even the right exit out of here anyway,” she continues as both she and the Doctor come up to where Dean is in front of the split fence.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably locked,” the Doctor notes, “I imagine risking contestants leaving before the game ends isn’t allowed.”

Alison hums in agreement.

“Can you do anything about it, Doc?” Dean asks.

“Let’s find out, shall we,” the Doctor reaches into his coat, pulling out his sonic screwdriver.

He aims it at the door, tracing the outline of its metal exterior. Alison and Dean barely breathe, waiting for him to finish.

The Doctor steps back in line with the other two, looking at the sonic screwdriver as if he’s reading something on it.

“Wait, so that’s it? You’re done? Just one little scan with that thing and problem solved?” Dean glances towards the door.

“More or less,” the Doctor confirmed.

To say Dean was impressed was an understatement, “Damn. I need to get one of those.”

“Did you pick up on anything?” Alison peered over the Doctor’s other shoulder.

“Well, this is definitely the exit to this place, but now I just need to configure a way to open it,” the Doctor started scanning the place again.

Dean decided to deploy his own method of opening doors. Stepping back, prepped himself before kicking the door open in one shot.

Alison and the Doctor were both caught off-guard, staring at the now broken door. Dean pretended not to notice.

“Will this take me back home?”

“I dunno,” the Doctor admits. “But there’s only one way to find out.” He takes a step through and pokes his head back out with the smile of a madman, “Allons-y!”

“Allons-y!” Alison repeats with just as much enthusiasm as the Doctor, entering the door behind him.

“Wait, hang on,” Dean hustles to catch up, “what’s an ‘allons-y’?”

Cas has been running for hours, barely stopping to take a break. He may not have his angel powers currently, but whatever took them seems to have left his stamina alone. Yet, Cas knows that even angels can’t run forever.

The thought of his powers disappearing presents a whole other problem to his current situation. He’s tried several times to see if they’ve returned since he left the trivia place, but there’s been no sign of them yet. At first, he thought the thing that was blocking them was limited to just the trivia room, but apparently, that’s not the case. Right now he can only hope that either Sam or Dean has also escaped their room and has come up with a better plan because so far his keeps falling apart.

Cas looks over his shoulder one more time, checking to see if anybody has caught up to him. Seeing nothing, he rounds the corner and finally comes to a stop. Catching his breath, he takes in his new surroundings. Nothing appears to be notably different from any of the other hallways he’s been through.

He continues this time at a much slower pace. Cas roams, keeping an eye out for anything and anyone that could be considered suspicious. So far there’s been no signs of any spirit lurking about, no claw marks of a werewolf, no demon markings, nothing. Just a countless amount of colored doors, all with red numbers, all locked. Sam and Dean or an unfriendly foe could be behind one of them. If the wrong door was opened the guards could potentially use it as a way to track Cas. He had to make his choices carefully.

Cas turned the corner and entered another hallway. Another hallway that looked no different from any of the others. At this point, it was going to take forever to locate Sam and Dean, assuming that the rooms they were trapped in didn’t have doomed endings like his. Even then, it’d be damn near impossible to avoid the guards searching for him for that long, they surely knew this place ten times better than Cas did.

He sighs, turning left. There are millions of doors in this place, possibly more. How on earth, heaven, and hell does somebody navigate this thing? It’d sure help if Cas had a way to narrow down his search–

Cas abruptly stops before he proceeds into what seems to be another identical hallway. He pushes himself up against the wall out of instinct. He caught it out of the corner of his eye, so there’s no assuring that what he saw is real but…. if there’s a chance…

He checks out the next hallway again, spotting exactly what he was looking for. There’s no denying it now, no doubt that it’s real.

There’s a door at the end of this hallway. A different door. One that isn’t colorful at all. It’s black and has a copper frame. There are no red numbers to indicate anything going on inside it. It’s a new door completely.

He peeks around the corner, spotting security cameras lining the walls. There’s almost double the amount in this hallway than the others. What is so important that extra security measures are needed?

Well, it’s not like he can destroy the cameras right now…. and the guards are already after him so….

What the hell, why not check it out?

The Doctor bounds out the other side of the mysterious door, appearing once again in the hallway where he was before he met Dean.
“Voila!” The Doctor exclaims, spreading his arms open. “The exit! Well, to the program at least, not the whole station.”

Alison is the first to appear behind the Doctor, “It’s good enough for me.”

“And about damn time too,” Dean steps out after Alison, “that house was getting cramped.”

Alison chuckles, “Yeah I got real tired of the giant café with a chocolate fountain and fresh pizza and a burger bar.”

Dean stops in his tracks, “There was a burger bar?”

“Oh sure,” the Doctor agrees, “I’m guessing most places have them nowadays.”

Dean pouts. For someone so adamant to escape he was pretty disappointed in himself for not checking out the food first.

Alison takes note of Dean’s silence. “Do you want to go back in?” she jokes, though Dean swears there’s a hint of sarcasm.

“Nah,” Dean shrugs it off, “I’m sure I’ve had better burgers anyway.”

“Right.”

Dean tries to change the subject, “So, Doc, where are we headed anyway?”

Alison and Dean pivot around to see the Doctor staring at something above the door.

Dean glances at Alison and back to the Doctor, who seems not to have heard him. “Doc?” he asks again.

“Why is that there?” the Doctor responds out of the blue.

“Why is what there?” Alison appears to be just as confused as Dean.

“That number. The number five. What is so important that they need to count it?”

“Maybe it’s how long until the contestants get to eat lunch,” Dean suggests.

“Seriously,” Alison questions, “did it not ever come to your mind to check out the cafeteria?”

“No,” the Doctor pays no attention to Alison, “that’s not it. That can’t be it.”

“Does it matter that much?” Dean brings up.

“Yes,” the Doctor scratches his head, “it’ll make me go mad if I can’t figure it out.”

He drags over a nearby wooden crate to the door and jumps onto it. Before Alison or Dean can stop him, he’s scanning where the top of the door and the number display connect with the sonic screwdriver. After a few seconds, the Doctor seems to have finished, but instead of getting an answer he just continues gazing at the screwdriver in confusion.

“So what is it then?” Alison requests.

“Dunno, looks like some sort of scanner,” the Doctor replies, still inspecting the object.

“It must be keeping count of something important then,” Dean points out, “if they were willing to stick it on a door that leads to a competition death machine.”

The Doctor considers Dean’s observation, “Yeah….”

“What if,” Alison thinks out loud, “it measures how many contestants are still playing or something?”

Dean notes that both Alison and the Doctor appear to be in deep thought over this particular subject, that he still doesn’t get why it’s so important anyway. So, he decides he’d much rather speed up the process of locating Sam and Cas.

“I say we get going before anybody running this place notices we took an early vacation,” Dean suggests.

“Brilliant idea,” the Doctor agrees.

They turn to Alison to hear her opinion, but she doesn't move from where she's standing.

"You coming?" Dean jokingly questions.

"No. I don't think I will."

Dean glances at the Doctor, turning serious. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"Listen," Alison sighs, "I've been watching these games since I was little, and it turns out being in one isn't all it's cracked up to be. No offense or anything, but I don't want to get wrapped up in anything more dangerous when I could just go home."

The Doctor walks up to Alison, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Nobody is going to make you do anything you don't want to," he says. "If you want to leave, that's your choice. But, I can't guarantee you'll be safe getting out."

Alison slowly nods in understanding. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

The Doctor lets go of her shoulder, "Then please, please, be careful."

He walks away, letting Dean take his place beside her.

Dean embraces Alison, "What are you going to do once you're out?"

"I don't know." Alison chuckles, "Probably go home and take a nap.”

Dean can't help but smile, "Nice plan."

"Good luck finding your brother. And I wish you the best with Cas," Alison winks once they've separated the hug.

Dean hesitates, "We'll see."

Alison can’t help but smile.

“That way’s your best bet,” The Doctor points behind her. “It’s the way I came in, but there’s no telling if they’ve blocked it off yet.”

Alison nods, straightening herself. She takes a deep breath and sets off.

As she walks away, Dean can’t help but think about whether she made the right choice or not. In any normal circumstance (well, normal by his standards) he would approve of her walking away. But there’s this nagging feeling inside that maybe, just maybe, Alison should stay. The Doctor may be the weirdest guy he’s met so far, but he seems to at least know what he’s doing. Like he’s been down this road before.

Alison looks over her shoulder to give one last wave of goodbye before she rounds the corner. Neither Dean nor the Doctor can resist waving back.

With Alison gone, it left just Dean and the Doctor to try and make small talk. Dean didn’t necessarily want to talk, he was perfectly comfortable with the awkward tension in the air. A perk of being a hunter, considering there was always an awkward unspoken tension once someone realized that monsters were actually real. However, unfortunately for Dean, the Doctor was not as equipped to deal with the void of a conversation between them.

“You said you’re from the twenty-first century?” the Doctor breaks the silence hanging over them.

“Yup,” Dean answers bluntly.

“Well, go on then,” the Doctor urges, “tell me more of your life in the twenty-first. If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”

Dean can’t help but feel slightly uneasy at the request, “What makes me so important?”

“Oh,” the Doctor answers with a glint of mischievousness in his eye, “I’ve never met someone who wasn’t important.”

Well okay then, whatever. Maybe it’ll help the Doctor figure out how he got here in this universe or something.

“I–um, well, my mom died when I was really little, my brother Sam was still a baby then. But you see–uh– she didn’t die of natural causes. Something not human killed her. Burned her on the ceiling, and that made my dad go crazy with an obsession of getting back at the thing that did it. Sam and I grew up on the road a lot, Dad trained us to be soldiers. Taught us everything he knew about the creatures in the dark, how to kill them and make sure they stay dead. Soon enough, that thing that killed my mom got him too, and after that, it was just me and Sam left.” Dean pauses, “Cas joined in the picture later, when we had to go up against a force even bigger, and he’s been part of the family ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor comments, “that’s a rubbish way to grow up, always hunting for monsters that hang about in the dark.”

Dean brushes it off, “It’s fine, we’ve been able to help a lot of people because of what my dad taught us. Saving people, hunting things, the family business, you know? I’d rather have a hunter life and save those in danger than be oblivious to it all.”

“Oh, is that what it was when you mentioned cold spots earlier? I honestly thought you were a bit mad,” the Doctor explains.

Now, that throws Dean off. “And that didn’t stop you from assisting me in escaping?” he can’t stop himself from wondering.

“Eh, you wouldn’t be the first mad bloke I’ve come across,” the Doctor reassures.

Dean doesn’t know whether to be offended or concerned about that.

The silence blankets them again as their conversation ends there. They continue walking through the hallway. Dean’s thoughts drift to the Doctor. He said he was an alien, so what’s his story? Does he have family waiting back home for him like Dean does? Is he all alone? How was he even able to get to the station in the first place, is there some sort of special car he drives?

“Hey–”

*Beep* *Beep*

Dean pauses, stopping in his tracks. The Doctor does the same.

*Beep* *Beep*

They both stare at the device in the Doctor’s hand. Dean looks up and meets the Doctor’s gaze.

“That–That’s a good beep right?” Dean frantically asks.

“Highly possible,” the Doctor places glasses on his face. Dean doesn’t even bother to try and figure out where he got them from.

“Highly possible?” Dean repeats, getting more worked up by the second, “What does that mean?”

“I think,” the Doctor says slowly, “that beep means it found your brother.”

That’s enough to snap Dean out of whatever trance he was in. “Don’t just stand there, Doc, hurry up and let’s go save Sam already,” he says, leaving the Doctor inspecting the timey-wimey detector.

Dean couldn’t afford to wait another second. Every passing moment was a chance where Sam could be eliminated from whatever hell TV show he’s stuck in. Not to mention he still has to locate Cas as well, although at this point Dean wouldn’t be surprised if–

“It’s the other way!” Dean hears the Doctor call.

Dean immediately turns around, “I knew that.”

He speeds back to where the Doctor is still standing. Thankfully, the Doctor picked up on the fact that Dean did not know where he was going and took the charge. He leads them through a series of twists and turns that seemingly go on forever. After maybe a solid five minutes of walking, the Doctor finally stops at a pink door. Dean reaches out and jiggles the handle. Naturally, it’s locked. The Doctor reaches for his screwdriver and is about to use it, but Dean holds out an arm to prevent him before he can.

Dean hesitates, “You’re positive this is it?”

“Of course I am, I’m not hardly ever wrong about this sort of thing,” the Doctor defends.

“Well, use your screw-thingy and open the damn door!” Dean demands.

“Alright, I’m working on it! Give me a moment,” The Doctor chimes back.

“Hurry up then!”

The Doctor rolls his eyes, “Oh, you Americans and your neediness. There’s just no pleasing you, honestly.”

Dean has the urge to snap back at him with his own quippy comment, but he gets the sense the Doctor has enough retorts prepared to out-do even Lucifer himself.

Chapter Text

The host drags Sam out of the bathroom and places him back on the stage.

“And we’re LIVE in three… two….. one!” the crew person in charge of the main camera points to the host, signaling him to start talking.

“So,” the dating host smiles at Sam, “Mr. Winchester, you’ve spent some time with Ms. Ruby. I’m assuming it went well,” he wiggles his eyebrows at the Fake Ruby, who giggles. “Is there any other of these fine ladies you wish to get to know more?”

“You know what,” Sam says with a burst of confidence, “yes. Could I please talk to Meg privately?”

The host beams, “Ms. Meg Masters, you’re up!”

Fake Meg eagerly jumps down from where she is on the platform and practically sprints at Sam. She grabs Sam’s hand and pulls him along to the “Dating Room”.

She closes the door behind them and practically shoves Sam on the nearest couch, immediately sitting down next to him.

“So,” Fake Meg flashes a grin at Sam, “what do you want to know?”

Sam scoots over to the other side, making space between the two of them. “Well, I was just wondering if you could tell me a bit about yourself. What your interests are, who you look up to, that kind of thing.”

“Oh sure,” the fake demon follows Sam, closing the gap keeping the two apart, “I’m an open book you know.”

Sam chuckles uncomfortably, “I’m sure.”
The Fake Meg does nothing but show off her white teeth, her grin big enough to make even the Cheshire Cat green with envy.

“Um,” he brushes a lock of hair out of his face and moves to the chair across from them, “so… what’s your answer?”

“Answer to what?” She asks, blinking innocently.

“The questions I just asked you. Regarding you telling me a bit about yourself?”

She snaps out of whatever romantic trance she was in. “Oh,” she straightens up, “right. I enjoy rock climbing, swimming, and visiting the beach. Typically my go-to place to hang out and eat is the local bar, they always have such interesting people there. I’m from California, so there’s usually a fair share of things to partake in.”

Sam tried to be more at ease, “Any siblings? Pets?”

Fake Meg shakes her head, “No, it’s just been me and my dad. Mom’s been out of the picture the whole time, and my dad’s allergic to cats, but I used to have a dog.”

“Oh?” Sam pretends to be interested, glancing at the clock now and then. “What kind of dog?”

“A Schipperke,” a genuine smile forms on her face, “I named her Juliet. She was so fierce but loved people all the same. We did everything together.”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that. “So,” he tried, “you like dogs then?”

Fake Meg flipped her hair over her shoulder, and her smile turned sly, “Among other things.”

Sam chuckled, “Right.” He changed the subject, “What were you hoping to achieve by participating in the competition?”

“Jeez, you sound like those boring recruiters.” She leans back, “I’m here to search for love, a promise of a new start through a relationship. Even if I don’t come out of this successfully with you, the learning experience can help me with finding my soulmate. My ‘ideal person’, you could say. So, I guess, the whole reason I’m here is for a bit of soul-searching.”

Well, that answer was way too quick. Whether it be that all these imposters were already programmed with an answer, or that Fake Meg gave the same response to Sam as she did to those recruiters. Neither answer leads to a good sign.

“And this…. ‘ideal person’, what are you looking for in them?”

“The usual, I suppose. Attractive, smart, able to fend for themselves, good relationships with others, humorous.” She locks eyes with Sam, “One who’s willing to have fun.”

Sam can’t help the small chills that run down his back, “How far does your sense of fun go?”

Fake Meg smirks as if reading his mind, “Don’t be a party pooper, Sam.”

Shouting and screaming alarms break the tension between the two. Even though this imposter isn’t the real Meg, she’s doing a hell of a job of impersonating the real one. This whole time he’s been getting nothing but a flashback of chills to when they first met. Well, when he first met the real Meg that is. Sam stands up and opens the door. Ignoring “Meg’s” protests, he peeks his head out and takes in the scene in front of him.

Crew and security were running around everywhere, the cameras were abandoned at their station and the two other imposter demon girls were nowhere to be seen.

Sam exits the room, not waiting for Fake Meg to join him. He heads towards a group of men who appear to be in charge, catching the remains of their hushed conversation.

“Sir,” a man dressed from head to toe in dark black approaches the group, “we have identified two of the intruders. One is the older Winchester brother who escaped from the program BH75-20, and the other is another gentleman with some sort of sonic weapon we picked up on our scans.”

“Any sign of the trenchcoat man from the program T19-41?” one of the men asks.

“No, sir,” the guard replies with a salute.

A man, who Sam assumes is the producer, nods, “Enable protocol IGLOO. Send guards to every exit, and keep the contestants contained. Nobody gets in or out until the situation is handled.”

The guard gives another salute and runs off to relay the orders given by the producer.

“All right then, Mr. Winchester, if you’ll just follow me,” the host grabs Sam roughly around his arm, dragging him away from the action.

“Hey! Wait, hang on! Just–” Sam struggles to release the host’s grip, having no choice but to be carried off the set.

“Right. That should do it,” the Doctor steps back, returning the sonic to its place in his coat and placing his hands in his pockets.

“So, is this the room with my brother in it or not?” Dean urges, trying to get an actual answer out of the Doctor.

“This is the one,” the Doctor confirms.

“Then what are we standing around for? Unlock the door already,” Dean gestures to the screwdriver and then the door

“Oh, I already did it just a moment ago with my sonic screwdriver,” he nods towards the now unlocked door, “you’re free to go in anytime you’d like.”

Dean blinks at the Doctor before rolling his eyes and throwing open the door.

“You’re welcome,” the Doctor says under his breath, chasing inside after Dean.

The host drags Sam along to an isolated area on the other side of the studio, “I’m terribly sorry Mr. Winchester, but I have to follow our policy. You’ll be released once all the commotion has died down again.” The host shoves Sam into the room, taking out a key that no doubt locks it.

“No, wait–” Sam braces himself and tries to stop the rapidly closing door.

He’s too slow by a second, and the host slams the door shut.

There’s an undeniable click of a lock sliding into place.

Sam pounds on the door, “Hey! Let me out of here!”

Sam tries a few more times to get the host’s attention before he gives on demanding to be released and moves on to trying to break through the door.

He takes a deep breath and…

*SLAM*

The door doesn’t budge.

*SLAM*

*SLAM*

*SLAM*

He grips his shoulder, usually, the door gives easier than this. There’s probably some weird element to the door that makes it tougher than the normal ones he and Dean typically break.

*SLAM*

This time he hits his arm particularly hard.

Sam winces, “Yeah, that’s gonna leave a mark.”

He grits his teeth and resumes.

The studio is blaring with bright red lights, flashing in time to an annoyingly loud alarm. It’s safe to say that the studio executives running the place know that Dean and the Doctor are here. They better hurry and find Sam to get out of here quickly. Dean’s escape from his show might have been easy, but he’s fooling himself if it’s going to be like that twice.

Not wasting any time, Dean splits from the Doctor, heading in the direction that leads to what he’s guessing is backstage. If these people (or creatures, or whatever they are) were smart, and something tells him they are, they’ll have removed Sam from the spotlight and taken him somewhere safe. Like a bunker or a panic room. This means that the further back Dean goes, the higher the chance Sam is there.

He speeds as fast as he can toward, what he assumes to be, the back of the studio. He passes men in all-black outfits, men in suits, and what appears to be someone who looks remarkably similar to Ruby. Dean moves on, trying to ignore that unsettling feeling in his stomach. He hasn’t been separated for this long from Sam since they parted ways and Sam went off to college. Whenever Cas is gone this long, Dean typically doesn’t worry as much because of his angel powers, but there’s no guarantee that Cas has that advantage now.

He slides out of the way of one of the men dressed in all black sprinting down the hallway, he doesn’t even glance at Dean.

Dean only met the Doctor less than twenty-four hours ago, and yet Dean has this strange impulse to trust the man. Although he’s an alien, which Dean somehow believes even though before they met he was confident that there was no such thing. Considering how he reacted, he can’t imagine that Sam and Cas are going to think of the Doctor. There’s no way Sam’s going to trust the guy without proof, and if Dean knows Sam (which he does), Sam’s going to try and find every detail to de-bunk the whole alien concept. He’s not totally sure how Cas is going to act when he first meets the Doctor. If anything, Dean’s expecting the guy to try and read the guy’s mind or something. Actually, will that trick even work on the Doctor in the first place?

Dean stops in his tracks, considering his decision to leave the Doctor behind. He doesn’t have to worry about the Doctor, right? Clearly, this guy knows what he’s doing. But even back in the elimination house, the Doctor hinted that he didn’t completely know what was happening or how Dean got here. He claimed it shouldn’t be possible, and was likely the result of some magic door opening malfunction thingy. Or some other scientific explanation. Sure, Dean may find the dude a little annoying and a tad too cheerful for his taste, but that doesn’t mean he should abandon the guy. Dean knows for sure that Sam can handle himself, but he’s basing the Doctor’s capabilities all on an assumption. Should he turn around to help him instead, then wait so they can find Sam together? The Doctor’s got him this far already, yet Dean can’t be sure of where this guy’s limit is, whether he’s an alien or not.

He shakes off those thoughts. If the Doctor needs him, he’ll come and help. Right now he can focus on finding Sam, that way they can work together and all get out of here.

Dean continues. He heads farther and farther away from the main stage area, going in the opposite direction of the action.

As he moves on, his thoughts can’t help but drift back to Cas. If the Doctor hasn’t picked up an angel signal yet, who’s to say Cas even got dragged through the alternate-dimensional-door thing? Dean’s hope might be misplaced, but he supposes there is still a chance that Cas is back in their world. Maybe he’s rounding up all of their connections to hunters and reluctant angels to try and find the brothers. Or maybe, if he did end up here, Cas already escaped whatever tv program he was held in. That’d be an ideal situation, but that still means Dean should be prepared to have to search all over to try and locate Cas. Not that he wouldn’t do it anyway. He knows Cas would do the same for him.

Jesus, perhaps Alison did have a point after all.

Once this whole thing is over, he’ll have to….

Dean stops again, this time for a different reason. He spins around, searching, he could’ve sworn he heard a–

*THUNK*

–noise.

*THUNK*

Dean strains, listening to which direction it could be coming from.

*THUNK*

It’s faint, but he could swear it was coming from the right. The hallway was considerably dimmer than the others like something was subtly trying to stay hidden.

“Sammy?” Dean calls out.

The thunking sound stops and Dean holds his breath. He sends a silent prayer that it’s Sam behind the noise, because if it’s not…..he just gave away his location to the wrong person.

“Dean?” Sam’s muffled voice responds, “Dean, over here!”

Dean sighs in relief and follows the sound of Sam’s voice. He twists through and around random set pieces and props. This place must be where most of the storage is kept. As he passes he sees forgotten signs and fancy chairs that are covered in dust. The alarm and red lights can hardly be heard or seen from back here. He scans the area for a hint of some sort of room, one where they could have taken Sam.

Several minutes pass before Dean finally finds something that could pass as a hiding place. He nearly walks right past it. The terrible lighting doesn’t do any favors, instead, it works to conceal the small and veiled room.

“Sam?” He knocks on the door.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice responds.

Dean reaches out to turn the handle, “Sam–”

Dean halts as he’s grabbed from behind.

Sam stop slamming.

There’s a faint crash emanating from the other side of the door.

“Dean!” he shouts.

There are a few more crashes before everything goes silent.

“......Dean?” Sam puts his ear to the door.

The door swings wide open, nearly nailing Sam in the face.

He moves out of the way just in time, stepping back to look at the victor.

Dean stands tall, bruised up and bleeding slightly, but otherwise fine.

Sam leans over and glances behind Dean, finding the host unconscious. He can’t help the small smile that forms on his face.

“Sammy! There you are,” Dean reaches out and pulls Sam into a tight embrace, “we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

As they part and Dean’s words catch up with Sam, “We?”

Did Dean find Cas? If so, is there a way that Cas can work some of his angel miracle powers and zap them out of here? Sam will take not pooping for a week over this miserable place without hesitation.

Dean pauses, realizing what he said. “Ah, yeah, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

He opens his mouth to explain, but before he gets the chance, a figure enters Sam’s eyeline.

The Doctor appears in the doorway, “Oh good, you found him then.”

Sam points to him, “Who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s the Doctor,” Dean points to the Doctor. “He’s, get this, an alien.”

Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Dean, aliens don’t exist, we know this already.”

“Well, Sammy,” Dean shrugged, “apparently they do, and the Doc here is one of them.”

The Doctor enters the room, examining it. Even though Dean seems to trust this guy, doesn’t mean Sam is willing to give in that easily. He’s been tricked several times by powerful beings before, such as the whole fiasco Gabriel pulled back when he was under the alias of Loki, and he’s not in the mood for it to happen again. Not in a strange place where both Dean and Sam have no clue what’s going on, and definitely not when Cas is still missing and unable to provide any backup.

Sam’s all for making a new ally, or friend, but they haven’t always had the best history with those. If there’s one thing that the twisted excuse for dating entertainment has reminded him of, it’s that you shouldn’t always trust everyone you first meet (certainly not in a brand-new terrain that keeps growing more shady). At least, not without collecting a bit of info first.

“So, you’re the…doctor?” Sam asks, still skeptical.

“That’s me,” The Doctor smiles.

“Doctor who?”

“Oh, Just ‘the Doctor’.”

“Okay…” Sam wasn’t convinced, “What are you a Doctor of?”

The Doctor thinks for a moment, before answering with a gleam in his eye, “......Fun.”

“Right,” Sam sarcastically agrees.

He steps up to the Doctor, who doesn’t move from his spot. “So,” he continues, “what are you doing here, Doctor? The main question is, how did you know where to find me and my brother?”

If the Doctor notices Sam’s attempt at an intimidation tactic, he doesn’t waiver.

“Well, I suppose you could say, I received a message,” the Doctor replies.

His vagueness doesn’t ease the tension. “What kind of message? And from whom?”

“The kind that says things aren’t quite right as they should be.”

“From who?” Sam repeats.

“Oh, the universe, I suppose.”

Sam scoffs, “You know what–”

Dean clears his throat, cutting off Sam’s retort. “We can have this argument later, right now we have to find Cas,” he interrupts.

Dean exits the room, not waiting for Sam and the Doctor. The latter is quick to follow him, clearly having enough experience with Dean already to know that it’s better to ask questions later.

Sam calls after them, “Cas isn’t with you?”

He follows them out, still confused. Something tells Sam that he has a lot of catching up to do.

Chapter Text

Cas opens the door at the end of the hall, stepping in and shutting it as quietly as he can. The room was dimly lit, most of its light coming from monitors and electronic screens. There were blinking lights everywhere Cas looked, ranging in colors from red to green. He scanned the room, wandering further in. It appeared to be some sort of video room, maybe? He still had no access to his powers as an angel, so he’d have to be more cautious than normal.

He started to wander around the room, taking in as much as he could. There’s no telling how long he’d get away with hiding in here before the guards found him. Before Devin got eliminated, he was able to provide some information and hopefully, that’ll be enough to help Cas find Sam and Dean and for the three of them to get back home.

Based on what he’d seen so far, in both his experience with the brothers and just taking in the sights of the studio, Cas came to the conclusion that the room he was in had to be associated with security of some sort. Most likely, purely based on its appearance, a video room. He approached the closest monitor, his eyes widening once he realized what was on screen. It was a video livestream of a current game taking place in one of the studios. From the looks of it, the contestants were baking something, and judging by the countdown on the back wall that Cas could barely make out, it was a timed competition. Even though it was a video feed, he could practically feel the amount of tension and stress radiating off of the screen. Those who he assumed to be the judges were slowly walking around the baking studio, talking quietly amongst themselves. He watched three different breathtaking cakes fall and two of the bakers have breakdowns before he called it quits. As magnificent as all the desserts were, it was obvious that the hanging cloud of doom still hung over the contestants. It wouldn’t do Cas any good to sit back and watch when he could be doing something productive instead.

Cas skimmed through the other monitors, disappointed when he didn’t catch sight of either of the Winchester brothers. They could’ve gotten out already, or maybe they were never in a program to begin with, or maybe…..

No, he can’t make assumptions like that yet. There’s still a chance of the first situation occurring, this is Sam and Dean after all.

He moved his attention from the live streams to the shelves. They were littered with all kinds of technology. Some Cas recognized, and some he didn’t. Many of them were duplicates of each other, and there appeared to be at least an attempt at organization. Nothing was labeled, though Cas doubted it would’ve helped anyway. He was still in unfamiliar territory, with all this Game Station and Satellite Five stuff, Cas had trouble figuring out what to do next.

He sighs. This whole thing would be much easier if Dean, or at least Sam, were here with him. At least they’d have a better idea of where to start or a decent plan that wasn’t mainly comprised of miraculously finding each other and escaping.

Castiel picks up the peculiar object off the shelf. Not only is this the only one without any duplicates, it’s also the biggest. It felt…weird. Not texture-wise, but almost like it was out of place. That despite its disguise, it didn’t belong amongst the other pieces of technology in the room. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was an inner voice deep in him, whispering that whatever was in his hands had to be important in some way.

Now, what could this be?

“So,” Sam starts, “let me get this right, you were in a Big Brother competition?”

Dean shrugged, “Well it was like Big Brother, only a lot more, you know…murder-y.”

“And that’s where you come in?” Sam points to the Doctor.

“That’s me alright,” The Doctor clicked his tongue.

Dean nods, “Thanks to the Doc here, we were able to escape that mess before anything bad happened. Of course, we couldn’t have done it without Alison. She practically saved our asses. We’d probably still be searching for information if it wasn’t for her.”

“Who’s Alison?” Sam asked.

“Another contestant on the show who helped us,” Dean elaborated, “once we successfully got out of there she decided to avoid the whole ‘potentially running into danger’ thing and go home. Not that I blame her, it’s probably the smartest choice she could’ve made.”
Sam hummed in agreement. Very few times that they told someone about their jobs did they turn around and stay out of the supernatural world as the brothers advised them to. It was a nice break from the usual routine of “ but it’s the right thing to do” that they usually got. Typically it doesn’t end well for those people.

The trio was walking through the hallways of the Game Station, catching up with everything. It had only been a small fight to escape whatever dating nightmare Sam had been trapped in. After the brothers took out a few of the security guards while The Doctor unlocked the door, the rest of them were more willing to let them leave. Whether or not the guards had any plans to follow the trio in the near future, none of them had any idea, but there wasn’t much time to waste. Hopefully, the experiences each of the three had would be enough to connect the dots on a way out of there.

“Did you find anything?” Sam eagerly asks.

Dean interrupts before The Doctor has a chance to speak, “Actually, the running theory is that it’s a spatio-temporal hyperlink.”

Sam made a face, “What’s that?”

“Fancy word for ‘magic door’ apparently,” Dean clarifies.

The Doctor speaks up, “That’s my word for it actually, I figured something serious like this needed a serious-sounding name. Not many other people use the term other than me, probably only two others excluding yourselves. ”

Sam doesn’t dwell on the fact that not even the so-called ‘expert’ seems to know what’s going on.

“Anyway,” he moves on, “no idea where Cas could be? How’d you guys even find me in the first place?”

“Ah,” The Doctor smiles and lifts a box-like object he had been holding, “my timey-wimey detector honed in on your signature.”

“My signature?”

“You and your brother,” The Doctor gestures towards Dean, “emit different signatures than the rest of this place because you’re not from here. By using this device, I can pick up any residues that are left by time anomalies, disruptions, and all that.”

“That’s handy,” Sam sounded impressed.

“And it goes ‘ding’ when there’s stuff,” The Doctor grinned.

Sam shot Dean a look.

Dean shrugged in response.

“So, Doc,” Dean returned to the matter at hand, “are you able to use that to track down Cas like you did Sam?”

“Shouldn’t be too tricky to do so,” The Doctor pulled out the timey-wimey detector and fiddled with it.

He flipped a few switches on it and straightened the antenna. It let out a few noises before the light at the top came on, flashing blue. The Doctor brought out the sonic screwdriver, pointing it at the device. After a couple of seconds, the light turned green.

“That should do it,” he said, tucking the sonic away again for safekeeping. “Allons-y!”

The Doctor led the way, with Dean on his heels and Sam trailing behind.

The trio followed the beeping to the best of their ability, twisting through the halls and passing countless doors, but to Dean’s surprise, never stopping at any of them. Sam wasn’t located too far away from where they broke out of the Big Brother-like competition show. Dean got a bit ahead of himself when he assumed Cas would be nearby too.

“Dean!” Sam whispered, beckoning for Dean to come closer.

Dean slowed down his pace and fell in line with Sam, “What’s up?”

“You’re seriously willing to follow this random guy, you only met a few hours ago, and who goes around saying he’s an alien?” he demanded.

“There’s not many other options, Sammy. To be fair, he didn’t just outright say he was an alien, he only mentioned it after I started doubting him,” Dean argues.

“And? What, you think that makes a difference? When we first met Ruby you were all over her case, trying to find some reason that she was evil and needed to be sent back to hell.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

Dean hesitated, “For starters, I was right about Ruby.”

“Wow, okay,” Sam throws his hands up in exasperation.

“Listen, if the Doc can help us get to Cas and get out of this freak show, then it’s worth a shot. The only reason I’m here right now is because of him, who’s to say that if I stayed in that competition I wouldn’t have gotten eliminated? This conversation,” he gestured between them, “ wouldn’t be happening without him. If we don’t find Cas…. I don’t know man. He’s part of the family now, we can’t just abandon him. Team Freewill and all, I’m not leaving unless he is.”

Sam let the words sink in, “This game show business brought a lot of things to light, huh?”

Dean could only nod in agreement.

“What about you?” he changes the topic, “You didn’t give much detail back with the Doc about whatever crazy competition you were thrown in.”

“That’s, uh, because..” Sam fidgeted with his sleeve, showing his discomfort.

Dean tries to reassure him, “What, did you have to kill a guy? I’ve seen worse, Sam.”

“No, I just,” Sam sighed, leaning closer and dropping his voice, “I–I saw Ruby, and Meg, and Lilith. Or, imposters of them anyway.”

Dean halted, ”What do you mean you saw them?”

“And talked to them.”

Dean looked like he was about to shoot something, “You talked to them?”

Sam was quick to stop whatever thoughts were circling in Dean’s head, “Fake versions of them, Dean! Not the real ones, I swear.”

That seemed to diffuse some of the agitation radiating off of Dean’s shoulders.

“What exactly were they doing?”

Sam sucked in a breath, “Sort of, uh, trying to be set up with me? I was stuck in some sort of weird dating thing.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me while I was running around getting hated at, you were what? The Bachelor?”

“...Not exactly, I don’t think so?” Sam replied hesitantly.

“So being trapped in a dating show with fake versions of all the demons that screwed you over and have shown any sort of romantic interest in you is considered entertainment?” Dean grimaced, “That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, “that trauma isn’t going away soon.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Just checking.”

The brothers continue walking in silence for another minute or so. During that time, Dean couldn’t help but replay what Sam said in his head. It sounds like Sam had been trying to get set up in this dating show with some of the major supernatural beings he shared a thing with. He wondered, what would it have been like if he and Sam had switched places. Would he also see the faces of past non-human flings? Maybe the angel Anna? Or perhaps it would’ve been normal people, like Lisa. Did the dating thing only include previous love interests? Because that seems a bit cruel to dig up those types of memories. Maybe… in Dean’s version… Cas could’ve—

No. That’s ridiculous.

…….How the hell did the deadly elimination part work in that dating program anyway?

Dean broke out of his thoughts, tuning back into the conversation. So far, he didn’t appear to have missed anything. Sam had gone and caught up with The Doctor, but Dean wasn’t able to tell if either of them had said anything yet. They were just walking side by side, while Dean was carrying the rear.

He quickly moved to fall in line with his brother and the alien, before any more thoughts got stuck in his head.

Sam cleared his throat, “So you travel in a magic time box?”

“Yup,” The Doctor grinned, “a madman in a box, alright.”

“Where have you been in it? Mars?”

The Doctor seemed to continue with a faraway look in his eyes, “Oh, I’ve been in countless places……”

Castiel turned the device over in his hands, inspecting every corner of it. There seemed to be some sort of power or something emitting from it, something Castiel could sense, and not particularly in a good way. It had to be powerful. Hopefully powerful enough to provide some answers or be of use. If he could figure out how to disable it or how it worked there’s a chance it’ll be helpful to locate Dean and Sam. He was never a prodigy when it came to messing with technology, that was always left to Sam. Yet, he couldn’t afford to not try.

He ran his fingers along the edge, coming across what appeared to be a port of sorts. It was about as wide as his finger, and long enough for something like a flash drive. He glanced around, searching to see if he could find whatever fit in it. Grabbing and trying anything that could potentially be the answer, from individual devices to plugging the thing into various power sources on the monitors. But after a few minutes of multiple attempts, he had to admit defeat. Nothing was working, and Cas wasn’t any closer to success than when he first entered the room. He needed a different approach.

There’d be no harm in trying to see if his angel powers worked on it, right? After all, maybe it was just being inside a studio competition that blocked them.

He reached out to test his theory, because honestly, what’s the worst that could—

“Ow!”

Cas pulled his hands back, dropping the device.

Well, cross off angelic abilities. Not only did that not work, but it seemed to have the opposite effect than what Cas was hoping for.

He reached down and picked up the device from the floor. Nothing appeared to be broken or damaged, and the noise wasn’t loud enough to draw any attention from anyone who could be passing by.

There was no difference from when Cas was holding it before….

Hang on, there was something that had changed.

One of the small lights that was turned off previously had started blinking. Although the blinking light was red, Cas doubted that the device was about to explode. So what did the light mean?

Cas spun around, trying to see if anything else had switched on or off. It seems the box didn’t trigger anything else in the room, was it something else outside?

Nonetheless, he’s been in here too long. Even if the blinking red light wasn’t some sort of alarm, the security that was chasing him might have figured out where he was staying by now. He had to continue moving. There was a chance he might run into Sam and Dean, if they weren’t trapped in their own versions of televised competitions. Regardless, it wasn’t the smartest option to stay here anymore.

Cas hurriedly put the device back to where it was on the shelf. He triple-checked the entire room just to make sure nothing was out of place. Then, he opened the door so only a crack was visible and peeked outside. Thankfully, there seemed to be no one around. He grabs the door handle and is about to leave when something catches his eye.

There’s a small stack of papers hanging next to the light switch. Cas pulls them off their hook and brings them down so he can get a better look. The title page has “CONTESTANTS & SHOWS FOR WEEKS 260 - 267” typed in large bold letters.

Curiously, Cas opens the packet.

The table of contents page is over three pages long, sorting the TV programs into genres and title names. Considering he doesn’t know what programs the brothers are trapped in, the contents are going to be a complete waste of time.

His angelic reading abilities would be incredibly useful right about now.

He skims through it, keeping an eye out for anything that could be considered suspicious. When the table of contents turns up nothing, he moves on to the back of the packet. Maybe there was an index of some sort. If there was anything Sam stressed during the countless hours of research on a case, it was that it’s not always necessary to read an entire book to find what you’re looking for.

Lo and behold, there was an index of contestants listed by last name. Cas was able to find “Winchester, Dean” and “Winchester, Sam” relatively fast. Each name had a symbol after it, ones that Cas recognized from the beginning of the packet. They represented what genre the program was listed as. Dean’s name had a house, and Sam’s had a….a heart? Weird. Cas flipped to the pages detailing the programs. According to this, Sam was placed in something called “Choices of Passion”, and Dean was in “House of Betrayals”.

In Cas’ opinion, they both sounded dreadful.

Thankfully, there was a small map printed in the corner that highlighted where the programs were. Unfortunately, it depicted them on the other side of the building.

He didn’t have much time to waste. Hastily, it grabbed a pen on a nearby table and wrote down the directions to the two studios Sam and Dean were listed in. He placed the papers back on the wall and carefully opened the security room door.

When no blaring alarms or shouting security guards greeted him, Cas deemed it safe to follow the lead he discovered and start making his journey to the other side of the station. Slowly, he stepped into the hallway and softly shut the door.

“Wait,” Sam interrupted, “you’re saying that this planet ‘Barcelona’ has dogs with no noses?”

The Doctor lets out a small laugh, “You should see their faces.”

“That’s not biologically possi—” Sam cuts off, receiving an elbow in his side from Dean.

“Aliens, remember?” Dean whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

“Right, my bad, sorry. Continue,” Sam apologizes.

The Doctor went on to tell tales of past adventures. Although, after knowing The Doctor’s capabilities, Sam’s fairly sure this dude could go back and figure out some way to experience them all over again. Was there some type of rule or boundaries that The Doctor had to follow? With the ability to travel time and space, there was a guarantee that there was an organization running around making sure everyone was doing what they should. Sam mentally set that question aside, he’d ask The Doctor about it later.

Meanwhile, The Doctor did nothing to pause his stories. He mentioned people named Rose, Mickey, Martha, Jack, Donna, a few others Sam can’t keep track of, and whatever “The Daleks” and “Cybermen” are (though Sam is willing to bet they’re not friendly).

The time traveler talks about things from the literal end of the world to Pompeii, and back again. Meeting famous figures like Shakespeare, Agatha Christe, Madame de Pompadour, and Charles Dickens.

Damn, this guy must have a lot of free time.

Sam couldn’t hide his amazement, “Wow, I guess you really traveled around then, huh?”

“Nine hundred and four years of time and space,” The Doctor says with a tone of wonder, “and yet somehow there’s always more to see.”

Sam wondered how lonely it could be. At least he’s always had Dean and other hunters, and now Cas. Does The Doctor have anyone? Or, has he been alone all this time? What happens to him once they get home and go their separate ways?

“Hey, Doc?” Dean snapped Sam out of his thoughts, pointing to the timey-wimey detector, “Does the detector-y thingy normally blink a red light?”

“Red?” Sam moved closer to see for himself, “I swore I saw it was green earlier.”

The Doctor stared at the object he was holding, “That’s because it was…”

He shifted to the left, and the light switched off. Noticing this, he moved in a slow circle, trying to see which direction triggered the curious blinking to turn back on. Yet, no matter which way The Doctor spun, it seemed that it only worked whenever he was back to facing the front.

“So why is it red now?” Sam turned to face Dean.

“No idea, unfortunately,” The Doctor seemed to be lost in thought, “nothing left to do but follow it.”

“Woah, hang on,” Sam held up his hands, “you want us to actually go to where a mysterious blinking red light is directing us? Why would we do that?”

“When haven’t we done that?” Dean argued.

The brothers stared at each other, having some sort of silent conversation that The Doctor wasn’t able to pick up on.

Saying the lack of noise was ‘off-putting’ would be generous.

The Doctor broke the awkwardness first, “You two don’t have to tag along if you’d rather not,” he reassured Sam.

“No, it’s settled,” Dean responded with a new sense of confidence. “We’re going.”

Chapter Text

Castiel glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand, he had been walking for quite a while now, but there still hadn't been any signs of Sam or Dean. Truth be told, he wasn't even positive he was heading in the right direction anymore, the directions he had written down were fairly vague.
And even then, he had essentially copied what was written down on the actual document directly, so he isn't to blame for this antagonizing slow pace he's forced to travel at just to make sure he at least was wandering into the correct area of the station.

“For supposedly highly intelligent life forms, you'd assume they would develop the habit of having better directions,” Cas complained out loud to no one in particular. “This is rather frustrating, and I'm an omniscient celestial being.”

What's the purpose of having an entire television station dedicated to recreating game shows anyway? Better question, why did it need to be in space?

Perhaps Cas will never be able to understand humans and their motivations. Although, he'd probably be doing a lot better at it if Dean was here with him. The older Winchester brother always had a knack for knowing exactly how to explain something to Cas that he didn't quite comprehend.

If Dean were here right now everything would either be running much more smoothly or going terribly wrong, it’s usually one of the two. And yet for reasons that no one between heaven and earth can explain, Cas wouldn’t have Dean be any other way. Even if Dean didn’t feel the same way as he did.

Which, simply put in romance terms, meant Cas was screwed.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean hesitated, “can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure, of course, Dean. What is it?”

“How—um,” Dean's voice wavered, “how can you tell if you love someone? And I mean truly love someone, not some kind of crush or fling bullshit.”

Sam was taken aback, “Oh, um, I,” he cleared his throat, “I don't know really, there can be different signs I suppose. Like constantly thinking about them, being able to tell when they’re upset, always wanting them to be happy, and putting their needs above yours.”

Dean ponders over Sam’s words. Could Cas really care about me that deeply? I mean sure, the dude always checks to make sure I’m alright whenever something happens, but who’s to say that he isn’t just being a concerned friend?

“Why do you ask?” Sam inquired.

“Oh, um, I, well you see… I’m asking because, I–uh,” Dean flustered, stumbling over his words, “there’s no reason.”

“Is it Cas?”

Well, that caught Dean off guard. He didn’t think he could be read simply like an open book, but maybe his poker face isn’t as good as he thought.

“W-what, uh,” he cleared his throat, “what makes you think it's about Cas?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Come on Dean, I see the way you two look at each other. I'm not blind, you know. Not to mention that whenever Cas seems to be in any sort of danger or trouble you always focus on his well-being first.”

Dean was speechless, was it seriously that obvious?

“I'm cool with it, you know,” Sam continues, “if you do actually have feelings for him. I'm in support of it.”

“Really?” Dean asked.

“Of course! You know,” Sam chuckles, “I've been waiting for you to hurry up and confess you have feelings for him already.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Jodi and I made a bet a while ago.” Sam smiled devilishly, “And I just won.”

Those absolute shits, Dean couldn’t help but think to himself. They knew for how long? And they didn’t even bother informing me about my own feelings?

Does that mean Cas knows? Or has he maybe connected the dots too?

“Dean, mate,” the Doctor broke his thoughts, sneaking up behind him.

Dean glanced next to him and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the Doctor had gotten so close without him noticing.

“I don't really wanna interrupt you,” the man in question continued, “but according to my scientific beep-y machine on the timey-wimey detector, we've arrived.”

“Right,” Dean nodded, following him to where Sam was standing in front of a door.

It was black and had some sort of copper framing. But what stood out the most to Dean was that there was no red number anywhere around it, unlike all of the other types of doors they had come across before.

“So, this is it?” Sam asked.

“Appears so,” the Doctor confirmed.

Sam tried the handle, finding it completely open. “Well, that’s new. I was definitely expecting it to be secured in at least some way, do they not do that here?”

“Strange,” The Doctor sidestepped Sam to check for himself, “they did for all the other doors, I nearly had to kick the door down just to get into the station.”

The Doctor’s exaggeration flew right over Sam’s head. “Seriously?” he says, “I mean, if we need to, Dean and I could easily break them down, but I figured we should try and be discreet for as long as we could.”

“Well I– not really, I just used my, er, ...nevermind, the moment’s passed.”

Sam shrugged and moved to step inside, only to be halted by Dean.

“Wait wait wait,” Dean said, grabbing them both, “how do we know it’s not booby trapped?”

The Doctor and Sam stared at him in doubt. Both knew that logically a major studio such as the one they’re in couldn’t be armed in a sort of trapping system, less they risk any sort of damage to workers or expensive equipment.

Sam turned to the Doctor, “Do you suppose it’s booby trapped?”

“Nah.”

“Good enough for me,” Sam accepted as both of them entered, leaving Dean behind.

Dean rolls his eyes, following them, “Guys! Come on, I’m not crazy, it’s not like it’s impos–”

“Woah….”

Despite the fact it was only a dark room lit by differently colored blinking lights, it still managed to take Dean’s breath away. He’d never seen anything so complicated yet organized, and although he’s not tech-savvy himself, he couldn’t help but feel like he was ten times smarter just by walking in the room.

“Oh look!” The Doctor grinned and pointed to a piece of technology on the wall, “They have photographic media enhancers from the late two thousandth century! Nifty stuff they are, quite capable of generating the perfect type of picture for extreme video programming down to the billionth of a second!”

Okay, maybe not ten times smarter.

As the Doctor continues to geek out over advanced alien technology, listing off names that sound like complete gibberish to Dean, the two brothers begin searching for any sign of something they might actually recognize.

There were several monitors that displayed various video feeds from cameras in the studios recording their twisted television programs. Dean figures that it’s safe to assume the rather large keyboard and mouse connected to the center screen controls them all. Other than all the electronic tech-y stuff placed basically everywhere on the wall you could possibly fit something, there were also shelves scattered around in the mix. Clearly, someone put a lot of effort into the interior design of the place.

Dean approaches one of the shelves, Sam opts to stay by Dean while the Doctor splits and heads to the other side of the room.

At least one of them has somewhat of a decent grasp of what all this junk is.

Dean isn’t totally sure what he’s supposed to be looking for, or what counts as material for clues. To be completely honest, he’s so far out of his element with the whole “aliens” thing he’s just trying to roll with the punches as best he can so he doesn’t even have time for an internal freak out. Sam’s handling this way better than Dean thought he would, or he’s at least incredibly good at pretending like he is.

As Dean tries to focus his thoughts more on the matter at hand, he starts rifling through the binders near him. There’s nothing much of interest that would help them out. He finds lists of aired entertainment programs and potential ones to try out in the first binders he opens, and the second one he chooses has diagrams and descriptions of all kinds of pastries and cakes that were part of some sort of baking competition show. All useless information in their case.

Sam grabbed a device with a blinking light from the shelf next to him, “What about this? Could it be some sort of locator like the Doctor has?”

Dean reached out, “I don’t know, does it look like anything like the Doc’s?”

“You can see it for yourself, Dean, that’s why I was asking you, you’ve known the guy longer than I have.”

“Yeah, by like an hour or so.”

“Well, it won’t hurt to ask the Doctor to see if he can figure it out.”

“Good point.”

They stood there, neither saying anything and instead waiting for the other to break first.

“Go on then,” Sam pushed.

“Why does it have to be me? You can do it yourself, you’re supposedly the smarter one,” Dean countered.

“You’re older than me.”

“And? That’s never made a difference until now and you know it.”

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Sam groaned in exasperation, “This is stupid. Just be the bigger person and ask already.”

“You’re taller, which means you’re the bigger person,” Dean pointed out.

Sam didn’t want to pull this card, but it’s the only move he can make in the metaphorical chess game the brothers were locked in. “I’ll hide your keys to the Impala.”

“The hell you will!” Dean protested.

“I swear dude, I’ll do it.”

“Do it and I’ll get Cas to broadcast that Sam Winchester is a big crybaby who still sleeps with his stuffed animal from when he was four.”

“Dude! That’s not true!”

“So? Doesn’t mean they'll know that.”

“Yeah, except you can’t fulfill that plan unless you see Cas again and we can’t really do that until you man up and ask for the Doctor’s opinion already.”

“...Fine I’ll ask him, whatever.”

Works like a charm. Sam smugly thought to himself. Of course, he’ll just get pie for Dean later to make up for the threat so there’s no hard feelings between them.

“What do you think, Doc?” Dean questioned, turning to face him from where he was across the room.

The Doctor showed no proof that he'd heard Dean, instead continuing to inspect the bookshelves full of binders that were close to the doorway.

“Doc?” Dean asked again, “Is everything alright?”

“Someone’s been here.”

The brothers reaction was near immediate, both snapping up to attention.

“How do you know?” Dean probes.

“Just look, there’s dust on every binder on every shelf except for these three on this one,” the Doctor reveals.

Sam went over to check, and sure enough, the Doctor was right.

As he usually is.

Cas turns the last corner on his self-made-with-instructions map, reaching what was supposed to be Dean's door. Only……it was already open? It must mean that Dean had successfully made an escape, right? Unless….

Nope.

Cas decided to believe in that hope rather than entertain his thoughts with any other possibilities.

He straightens out the piece of paper in his hands, focusing on the other set of directions he wrote down. If Dean doesn’t need his help, maybe Sam still did. It was going to be tricker to get Sam out of his program successfully. According to the document he had found earlier in the room, Sam’s studio required more security and protection methods. For whatever reason they were necessary, Cas didn’t know for sure, but he was a little worried on how long it would take to break the younger Winchester brother out.

He sighed, moving on from where Dean had once been. Hopefully he'll find the brothers before the security guards do. Or before any other trouble comes along.

“Who do you think it was then? Like a security guard or employee or something?” Sam grew worried, if the people running this place got wind of where they were…well, that’d be the end of it.

“Possibly,” the Doctor replied, his brain working to come up with more potential explanations. “Either way,” he sighed, “any outcome could lead to the chance of finding an easier way out of this place or further details of– oh, what have you got there?”

Sam held up the object he was discussing with Dean, that naturally, the Doctor seemed to only notice just now.

“No idea,” he handed it over, “we were hoping you could shed some light on what it might be. Maybe it’s some sort of device like the timey-wimey detector?”

“Afraid not, the detector is of my own invention, one of a kind. Besides, this beauty isn’t made of any of the components that are similar to it, looks like most of the parts are those typically found types of emission systems.”

“Oh great, that sounds wonderful,” Dean sarcastically comments.

“Can you tell us anything?” Sam urged.

“Well, I can tell you that someone has either tried tampering with this or was working on it in some way.”

“Maybe it could be another clue to who was here before us?”

“Quite possibly,” the Doctor agrees, “there’s a handprint and fingerprints that run along the bottom. If I had the chance to run it with any documented prints in the system we might be able to at least find out who–or what–made them.”

“Woah, hang on Doc, we don’t even know what that thing does. For all you know it could blow this whole place to smithereens,” Dean intervened.

“Oh I doubt it, these parts aren’t nearly as advanced for that type of stuff. Although, now that you mention it, it does seem to be sending out some type of frequency of some sort.”

“Yeah, and then next thing you know, ka-boom!”

“If I can find out whatever is being emitted into the studio environment by this thing,” the Doctor trails off, “I might be able to use it to trace where its original control is.”

“You mean you can find out who’s behind all this?” Sam asks, astonished.

“In theory,” the Doctor confirms, turning the thing over in his hands.

Holy crap. It’s not exactly the same as getting a solid lead on Cas, and of course they’ll still have to find him first before taking any drastic steps, but still, having a potential way to know what asshat is behind this space voodoo shit? That’s huge. Then all they’d have to do is kick its ass into the next universe and make sure none of this shit happens again.

“You’re serious, Doc?” Dean paraphrases Sam, the hope igniting growing so fast that he nearly breaks out into a smile even the Cheshire Cat would be jealous of.

“Of course I am, it’s me. I do this stuff all the time, I’m the expert in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Then let's go find this mysterious person,” Sam suggests.

“Hold on, I thought you were against the whole ‘running into danger while on an unknown planet situation’ thing,” Dean points out.

“Yeah, well,” Sam shrugged, “I guess you're just a bad influence on me.”

“Brilliant!” The Doctor exclaims, “I’m all for the ‘running into danger while on an unknown planet situation' thing, it happens to be my specialty.”

“Yeah, I knew you would be,” Dean remarks.

Chapter Text

Somehow, in ways that Cas couldn’t understand, the studio Sam was listed as being in was a room that was even more of a challenge to find. If locating Dean’s was a struggle, then this was damn near impossible.

He let out a frustrated sigh.

Thankfully, he had yet to run into more guards, but it was also highly possible he was walking right into where they were all waiting. Cas wasn’t naive, he knew there was a decent chance that the security guards have already figured out his plan and had already dispatched a whole troop to find him. He also was aware of the possibility that Dean and Sam were currently being held captive as bait for him. He’d been pushing that situation out of his mind as much as he could. Either way, he refuses to give up. He’s been a “guardian angel” to the brothers for quite some time and he wasn’t going to stop now. He was an angel of the lord, he was a soldier of heaven, and for all he knew he could be Sam and Dean’s last hope to escape this place.

Surging with self-confidence, he looked at the map again.

If he were to take the hallway to the right that was past this section of doors, rather than the one on the left, he should in theory be able to reach Sam’s room sooner. Assuming he didn’t run into a detour, it’d be a decent shortcut.

Still staring at the map, he continued on.

Rescuing Sam and Dean was practically the main part of his job when tagging alongside the brothers. Not that he minded it, his duty as an angel was to protect. That included the Winchesters and their friends. Especially Dean. Actually, he seemed to rescue Dean from dangerous situations quite often. Maybe this time he’d even start to notice how valuable Cas is, always arriving in time to save the day. Dean would hold him close and whisper a soft “Thanks, Cas”, or eventually declare that he finally understood why Cas gave everything for him.

No, Dean didn’t think like that.

After all, they were just friends. Best friends, but still, only friends.

And Cas was fine with that. He’d live on, no matter if Dean felt the same as he did or not. They were best buds, and Cas treasured their friendship. He’ll stay Dean’s best friend as long as he lived. He’d always be there for him, he’d kill any enemy he had to, he’d sacrifice anything Dean asked, he…well, he’d…he’d–

Nearly run into a wall, apparently.

Cas turned around, not recognizing where he was. Last he checked, he was wandering a section with red doors. All these doors around him now were blue. He quickly glanced back down at his map. He must’ve taken a wrong turn. His thoughts about Dean seemed to have distracted him. Now, he’d have to back-track until he found the red doors again, and at that rate that would take he’ll most likely run into security guards at some point.

He stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. No use dwelling on it now. He ran a hand over his face before starting to walk back the way he came. Based on the map he should be able to make it to Sam in about—

Cas froze in his tracks.

There were voices coming from the hall around the corner, and they didn’t sound friendly.

“Have…..you succeeded…..outsmarting…..”

He quickly hid behind the stack of boxes that were up against the wall. There was a small crack that would allow him to see who came by, giving a small advantage. If Cas had to guess, whoever was standing in the hallway was probably working for the studio. From what he heard, they appeared to be forming some sort of plan.

“This…..helping, and we need to focus…..who…..”

“.....right, we should hurry up and find....before we…..who....see us.”

Two different voices this time. How many were there? He could take on a few without drawing any unnecessary attention, but not a whole group. He’d need some sort of leverage along with the element of surprise.

He shifted closer, leaning against a pile of boxes full of what he assumed to be heavy objects, based on the way it was tilting. Perhaps he could use them as a defensive weapon. He carefully reached up to grab the top box…

*CRASH*

God damn it.

“This way,” the Doctor takes a sharp turn, his attention solely focused on the timey-wimey detector.

Dean and Sam follow him silently. Both were contemplating what the identity of the mysterious being they were following could be. Dean was practically praying that it was Cas, but he knew that he had to be prepared for a less friendly outcome. Actually, speaking of which, he had considered praying to Cas to see if it would help at all, but eventually decided against it. He didn’t want to give information about Cas being an angel in case they couldn’t trust the Doctor, or risk the prayer somehow being interfered with and alarm whoever the hell was running this place. As painstaking long as it’s been taking to find Cas, it’s basically their only option as of right now. Naturally, there’s the possibility that Cas is being held captive due to his angelic status or as a lure for a trap, but Dean doesn’t think that's the case. If it was, they would have already received some I-have-your-friend-now-surrender message. Right now, he was attempting to list all the ways to kill beings that had the juice to lock them up in here. An angel blade was probably their best bet, although he wasn’t totally sure it would work on an alien. If this thing was an alien. Were aliens also vulnerable to silver? Maybe iron? Dean wished he had his gun on him, because he highly doubted aliens were immune to the classic lead bullet. That is unless they happened to be Superman or something.

Sam was running through the statistics in his mind on what type of creature could have trapped them in here. Clearly, this was bigger than the standard supernatural being, and he was fairly positive that this work was too advanced for any demon they had run into. It could be a trickster, or Gabriel, or some other higher thing who actually had the power to pull off illusions like the archangel. Either way, they’d need an advanced weapon to get rid of it. Sam had the demon knife on him before he arrived at this studio place, but there’s been no sign of it since. He wasn’t entirely sure what weapons Dean had on him, in fact, he was pretty sure Dean was also defenseless, so they’d have to go off of whatever weapons the Doctor had. Needless to say, Sam wasn’t super hopeful on that front. Worse comes to worse, the three of them will have to fight off whoever with only their fists. But it’s not like that would be much of a problem. Assuming the Doctor can fight and isn’t one of those “let’s settle this with words” type of person.

“Nearly there,” the Doctor announced.

“Great, it only took walking past three hundred doors,” Dean grunted.

Sam lightly scoffed, “Don’t be so dramatic, Dean.”

The Doctor smiled at their antics, “Besides, it was probably only around two hundred and seventy-one doors.”

“Even better,” Dean said dryly. “And I don’t want to be that guy, but what exactly is the plan if this person isn’t on our side?”

“Kick ass, take questions later,” Sam responded.

At the same time, the Doctor answered, “Stall and get information from them.”

“Glad we’re in agreement then,” Dean mumbled.

Sam stopped walking and addressed the Doctor directly, “How would talking them down benefit our situation?”

“And knocking the bloke unconscious before getting answers will?”

“If we give them enough time they could contact backup, which gives us less chance of ever getting out of here. Face it, we don’t know if this person we’re chasing is hostile, or what their tactics are.”

“Doesn’t mean they’ll be automatically against us,” the Doctor remarked.

“Let’s be realistic, we’re three of their escaped contestants who they had captured to get us to play some deadly bullshit games, of course they’re going to be pissed off.”

“Technically, I’m not. I arrived here by my own free will thank you very much, and I think you’ll find that my name isn’t on any contestant lists they might have. Besides, I have the means of a guaranteed exit from this place anyway.”

“Good for you, I suppose you can just walk right out of here then.” Sam rebutted.

“Oh don’t be daft, I wouldn’t leave you two. Plus, I’d rather like to find out who exactly is behind this thing, whether they be welcoming or not.”

“Listen, ladies,” Dean cut in, “I’d love to just stay here and chat all day, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

“Agreed, but we need to come up with a plan of attack, one that everybody thinks is best,” Sam added, throwing a pointed glare at the Doctor.

“Okay, we will, but right now let’s focus on–”

“I think you’ll find that logic is perfectly reasonable to defeat an adversary,” the Doctor chimed in, directing his comment towards Sam.

“Logic will support the fact that sometimes the answer is violence. ”

“Says who?”

“You’re right, violence isn’t the answer. It’s the question. And the answer is yes.”

Dean sighed, “Guys–”

“That’s rubbish!” the Doctor continued, “Have you ever come across a situation where the best response was to win only by using your fists?”

“Have you been in one where you succeeded by just outsmarting your opponent?”

“Yes, all the bloody time!”

“Well, so have we!” Sam countered, crossing his arms.

“Oh, you people think you’re so clever, when in actuality you’re all a bunch of–”

“Guys!”

The Doctor and Sam stopped their arguing and turned to Dean.

“This discussion isn’t helping,” he lectured, “and we need to focus on rescuing Cas, not who has the moral high ground.”

The Doctor resumed looking at the timey-wimey detector, “Dean’s right, we should hurry up and find your friend before we run into someone who won’t be excited to see us.”

“Oh, now you’ll admit that not everyone is super-happy-rainbows-nice?”

“Excuse me,” the Doctor defended, “I never actually said that was true, I simply pointed out the obvious fact that you don’t have to solve everything with a physical altercation.”

Dean threw his hands up in the air, “Oh for the love of–”

*CRASH*

All three of them jumped, immediately halting the conversation.

The Doctor slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. Creeping ahead of the other two, he pointed at a stack of boxes that had fallen over.

“Whoever you are, I suggest you come out slowly with your hands in the air,” the Doctor called out.

Sure enough, a pair of hands appeared in the air, followed by a familiar set of lighting blue eyes and an unforgettable trench coat.

Dean let out the breath he had been holding, “Cas?”

“Dean.”

Dean rushed forward and gave him a hug, “Cas, thank god you’re alive.”

“No, he had nothing to do with it this time,” Cas answered, returning the embrace.

They broke apart and Dean stepped to the side while the others approached.

“Cas,” Sam placed an arm on his shoulder, “it’s good to have you back, buddy.”

“Thank you,” Cas nodded to the younger brother.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled, “now we just need to get the hell out of here.”

Something in Cas’ memory sparked and he grabbed Dean’s arm, “Dean, we’re in space.”

“I know, Cas.”

Cas then noticed the Doctor standing a few feet away. “Who’s this?” he asked, almost hurt at the thought of being replaced.

Dean smirked, gesturing to the man in question, “Castiel, meet the Doctor.”

“Hello.”

“Hello yourself,” the Doctor responded with a smile. Turning to Dean, he asked, “This is your friend you were looking for, then?”

“Yup. Unless some alien bio-whatever took his place, making this Cas a total stranger.”

Cas furrowed his bow in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

Dean patted his back, “Don’t worry about it, Cas.”

“If you insist.”

“So,” Sam rubbed his hands together, “should we get back to finding a way out of here? Doctor, can you use your detector to locate an exit or something?”

“I don’t see why not,” the Doctor adjusted a dial on his timey-wimey detector before bringing back out his screwdriver.

“What’s that?” Cas asked.

“It’s my sonic screwdriver,” the Doctor pointed it at the device in his hands and switched the sonic on.

“What is it for?”

“Oh you know, helping me out in rather tough situations. Unless, of course, it involves wood.”

“Why not wood?”

“It doesn’t do wood.”

“What kind of screwdriver doesn’t do wood? Isn’t the entire point of a screwdriver for building things, many of which happen to be made out of wood?”

“Oi! Don’t insult the sonic screwdriver!” the Doctor scolded, “I love my sonic screwdriver. I’m rather attached to it.”

“Just let it go Cas,” Dean interrupted. He wasn’t about to be to stuck in the middle of another argument.

“Very well.”

The Doctor went back to what he was doing, seeming to forgive Cas. He lifted up the sonic, reading off of it, then fiddled with another dial. He pressed a few buttons, flicked the sonic again, and held the timey-wimey detector in the air. “Follow me,” he declared. He ran off, not waiting for the others.

“Here we go again,” Dean complained, chasing after the Doctor while the other two followed close behind.

“Again?” Cas inquired.

“Yeah,” Sam spoke up, “we’ve kind of been running all over the station. Mostly searching for you. The device the Doctor has acts as some sort of beacon, honing in on specific signatures.”

“Interesting. I’ve also been trying to find you two. Although, admittedly, I didn’t have a locator signal to use. However, I did end up stumbling across what appeared to be a security room, which provided me with some directions.”

“So that was you!” Sam exclaimed, “We stumbled across that place too, and once we discovered someone else had been there we agreed to go looking for them.”

“You purposely ran toward unknown danger?”

“Well, ideally, we were sorta hoping the person would have a clue on how to get out of this place, or even know where you were being held. Of course, the person turned out to be you, so we got lucky.”

“And this ‘Doctor’ guy? Did you get lucky with him too?”

“Oh well, actually, it was Dean who met him first. He apparently crashed the studio where Dean was and helped him and another contestant escape. Then he helped locate where I was, and they busted in and broke me out too,” Sam admitted sheepishly.

Cas thought about this for a second. “In a ‘Ruby’ way or more of a ‘Bobby’ type?”

Sam reflects on Cas’ words. He did have a good point, they’d been tricked by those they thought were allies in situations like this before. Who’s to say the Doctor isn’t the one behind this whole thing and is just playing them all for fools? He could be staging this whole thing, leading them on a wild goose chase and distracting them from actually breaking out of here. Making up his mind, he hurriedly reaches out and tugs Dean to fall in line with them.

“Dean,” Sam pulls Cas and Dean back a few paces more for a private conversation, “do you really trust this guy?”

“Are you kidding? The dude’s a walking Converse commercial,” Dean replies, taking a glance at the Doctor ahead of them.

“So you don’t trust him then?”

“Not really, but he’s the only one who has an idea of what the hell is going on. He hasn’t proven that we can’t trust him yet, but we should still be cautious.”

“Yes, I can understand you’re reasoning,” Cas agrees, “but I still don’t like him.”

The three stare at the man in question, who’s stopped and detoured to a nearby wall that’s been spray-painted green. So close he’s practically kissing it, he then holds the sonic screwdriver up to it. With the sonic appearing to do nothing, he kneels down next to a puddle of purple liquid, presumably also some type of paint. After a beat, he leans closer and licks it.

Dean is the first to speak, “Understandable, Cas.”

The Doctor stands up and continues walking like nothing happened.

The others trail behind, this time more wary than before. Nobody mentions the fact that their so-called “reliable” source just tasted an unknown substance off of a space station's dirty floor.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea of what could be behind this? You know, in case we can’t trust old ‘timey-wimey’ over there?” Dean leaned over and whispered.

“I was thinking possibly a trickster or maybe another angel-type figure. Obviously, there’s also the potential that this is the Doctor’s doing,” Sam offered.

“Think he was just lying about the whole ‘alien’ crap and is actually a minor god or something?”

“No, he isn’t,” Cas shot down, “I would be able to sense a power resonance on him.”

“And let me guess, you’ve got jack-squat on picking up any other clues?” Dean guessed.

“So far, yes.”

“Awesome.”

“So, it looks like we’re back to square one, trusting a random dude who just so happened to free us?” Sam clarified.

“It seems so,” Cas confirmed.

They continued on in silence. With nothing else to go on, they had no choice but to put their faith in the Doctor for now. All three were desperately hoping they weren’t being led astray. Dean had caught back up to where he was before, the closest to the Doctor, with Cas practically on his heels. Sam hung back a bit, that way if something were to happen they wouldn’t all be caught off guard. Dean would periodically glance around, searching for anything that could work as a weapon. Sam was also paying close attention to their surroundings, instead taking note of where they were and what directions they had been taking. Cas had set his eyes on the back of the Doctor’s head, his steady gaze never wavering.

The trio was suddenly halted by the Doctor, his arm reaching across Dean’s chest to prevent him from progressing any further.

“Ah, well that’s not good,” the Doctor announced, pointing the timey-wimey detector out in front of them.

“What is it, Doc?”

Heavy footsteps echoed through the halls. They rapidly grew closer, speeding up as they continued to get near the group of four.

“That.”

Cas remembered what he had been doing previous to finding the Winchesters. More specifically, who he had been running from. “They must have found me,” he rationalized.

“Who?” Dean demanded, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice.

“The guards of the entertainment station.”

“Why would they be chasing you?” Sam asked.

“I sort of, escaped my program without their permission and have been messing with their system to find you two,” Cas explained. “They appear to be unpleased.”

“Yup, that’ll do it,” The Doctor concurred.

He grabbed Sam and Dean’s hands, “Run!”

Dean quickly laces his fingers with Cas’ and pulls him along.

Chapter Text

They all sprint down the hall, attempting to put some distance between them and the security guards.

“Do you have any idea where we're heading?” Sam yelled to the Doctor.

“Absolutely none whatsoever!”

The Doctor took a sharp left, the Winchesters and the angel quick to follow. The guards were still chasing them, so there wasn’t much time to think. The farther and quicker they got away, the better. Now that Cas had been found, all that was left to do was escape out of the damn place. Or, at least in Dean and Sam’s order of operations, it was.

“Once we find a place to hide, we can stop and work on finding who’s behind this mess,” the Doctor addressed to the other three.

Cas was the first to protest with his concerns, “Are you insane? These guys clearly have the advantage, it would be much smarter to organize our efforts into leaving here as fast as possible.”

“I’m agreeing with Cas on this one, Doc,” Dean voiced, “let’s get out of here, and then, once we’re a safe distance away from all of this wack-a-doo crazy, we can figure out what’s going on.”

“It’d be much easier to continue our efforts while we’re here, front and center. Think about all the information that could be lost if we left now,” the Doctor called back, just barely dodging a stack of boxes in front of him.

“I hate to say it, Dean, but he’s got a point,’ Sam chimed.

Dean turned to his brother, “Since when are you on the let’s-stay-among-the-danger-that’s-trying-to-kill-us train?”

“Since he found Cas!” Sam fired back.

“Technically,” Cas explained, “I found you when I heard you talking, and Dean found me when he approached the boxes I knocked over.”

“But the Doctor had gotten us there,” Sam argued, “without him, I might still be trapped in a love-craze unrealistic dating show.”

“Need I remind you, I am right here,” the Doctor replied.

“And I thank you for that, Doc,” Dean continued, “but now doesn’t exactly seem like a good time to stay in a place we already know is packed with trouble and people who are smarter than us.”

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” Cas mentions.

Dean rolls his eyes, “Thanks, Cas.”

“No problem.”

The Doctor abruptly stops, holding out his arm to halt the others. He looks around before walking up to the bright pink door that’s off to the side. Pulling out the sonic screwdriver, he unlocks it and peeks his head in. Seemingly satisfied he strides over to where the other three are staring at him.

“This will work for now,” he says, grabbing Sam and pulling him along, “it’ll keep us hidden from the security until they’ve passed by.”

Dean and Cas share a brief glance with each other before following.

The Doctor practically shoves Sam through the door, doing the same to Dean and Cas as soon as they’re close enough. Then he walks in and shuts the door behind him, encasing them all in darkness.

“Is this another game room?” Sam asks.

“Nope,” the Doctor reaches above them and pulls on a string, and the room is flooded with artificial light.

“It’s a cleaner’s closest.”

Dean takes in the view of where the Doctor has pushed them into. The room itself is rather spacious, with shelves lined with cleaning products and a mop bucket in the corner. A row of brooms is hanging on hooks along the wall behind Sam, who is standing across from him and Cas. The Doctor has his ear against the door, seemingly listening in to figure out if the guards are close by.

“Okay,” Sam breaks the silence, “we need a plan.”

Dean scoffs, “Yeah, understatement of the freaking century.”

“Cas,” Sam ignores Dean’s comment, “did you find anything out before you ran into us?”

“Not really, my priority was finding you two,” Cas admits. “Although, I admittedly did come across a room that contained some valuable information that allowed me to find out the locate both you and Dean.”

“Wait, hold on, you mean to say you found a map of this place?” Sam couldn’t believe Cas’ luck. If they could just go back to that place and grab some maps that would solve this whole problem!

“No,” Cas clarifies, “it was mainly directions to where you two were being held. It didn’t show the whole station.”

Well so much for that solution.

“Doc, you’re the one with the most experience of all this alien shit,” Dean says, “do you have a plan to get out of here?”

“Oh nothing much, mostly includes discovering whatever is pulling the strings on this whole thing and putting a stop to all this nonsense.”

“Seriously? We’re still on that?”

Sam cuts in before the Doctor does, “Dean, if the guards have already left, maybe this is the best time to at least try and figure out what’s going on here. We’ll also probably come across the exit anyway as we’re searching.”

Dean sighs, “What do you think, Cas?”

“While I don’t think the…Doctor-man can be fully trusted,” Cas hesitated, “he is our best shot of getting out of here. Maybe we should follow his lead.”

“So,” Sam addresses Dean, who’s currently focused on the floor, “are we in agreement, then?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, admitting defeat.

Sam nods, “Great.” He turns to the Doctor, who is still standing with his ear propped against the door, “Alright, Doctor, we’re willing to–”

The Doctor waves him off, “Shhh….”

Sure enough, racing footsteps passed by where they were hiding. If Dean listened hard enough, he could just barely make out some words that the guards were saying. It sounds like they’re talking about numbers, another door, a dude that Dean is guessing is the boss of the place, and… a wolf?

Was there a “tracking wolf" of a sort that they were sending to find them? Maybe some alien dog? From what Dean could tell, neither Cas nor Sam understood what the guards were saying either. The Doc, on the other hand, was practically sniffing the door. And considering that they all witnessed him lick that purple stuff earlier, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was smelling it.

The footsteps began to fade away, but all four of them continued to remain as quiet as possible. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that someone finally said something.

“Right then,” the Doctor leaned away from the door, “you were saying?”

“Against our better judgment,” Dean responded, “we’ve agreed that we’ll follow your lead on this one.”

The Doctor broke out in a grin, “Brilliant!”

“What’s the next move, Mr. Doctor?” Cas asked.

“Oh, you can just call me ‘Doctor’, nothing fancy,” the Doctor politely corrected. “And,” he continued, “the next move, as you put it, is to locate the cause of all this nonsense and figure out what the final step of the gameplan of this ‘boss’ is.”

Sam made a confused face, “The final step?”

“Yup,” the Doctor confirmed, popping the “p”, “It’s what those guard fellows were talking about as they passed through.”

“So, I’m assuming that’s where you think we’ll find the information about what’s going on here and how we can escape?” Dean reasons.

“Right-O.”

“Well then,” Dean grips Cas’ shoulder, “what are we waiting for?”

The Doctor opened the door, stepping to the side to let the others go through first. Dean gave Cas a quick pat on his shoulder before letting go and walking back out into the hallway. Sam was close behind. But rather than leaving the room, Cas went up to the Doctor instead.

“Doctor,” Cas began, “I wanted to talk to you about something.” He spared a glance at the still wide-open door, “Privately.”

“Ah,” the Doctor responded, “yes, right. What is it, then?”

Dean called out before Cas could answer, “Cas? You good, buddy?”

“Sorry, yes,” Cas apologizes. He reached over and grabbed the door handle, “Just give me a minute,” he said, swinging it shut.

Dean turned to Sam, “What do you think that’s about?”

Sam shrugged.

Dean couldn’t help but go into panic mode a little. What would be so important that Cas wanted to speak with the Doctor, whom he had just met like ten minutes ago, without Dean around? Could it be about Dean, or the Doctor, or Cas, or the station itself? Maybe Cas was hiding something and didn’t want Dean to know? But last time Dean checked, he was Cas’ best friend, not the Doctor. Plus, Cas didn’t even know the alien, much less trust him. Right?

Or are the non-human factors of Cas and the Doctor the cause of some connection between them that Dean hasn’t picked up on?

Is he reading too much into this, or not enough?

With just the two of them remaining in the room, Cas whipped his attention around to the Doctor at record speed.

“Listen very closely here, Doctor,” he says, pointing his finger at the Doctor’s chest, “Sam and Dean are the two beings I care most about, so if you hurt them in any way, physical or otherwise, know that I am not afraid to seek some form of compensation. If the reason you’re here is for a purpose that does not include helping us, I would quickly change your mind about your intentions. Unlike Sam and Dean, I won’t think twice about certain methods if it ensures that they will leave this place unharmed.”

The Doctor raises his hands as a sign of peace, “I can assure you, Castiel, I am not here with the desire of harming your friends.

“For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth.”

“Even if I wasn’t,” the Doctor puts his hands in his pockets, “it would be more efficient for all of us if we work together and get out of here alive.”

“Mark my words, Doctor, an angel’s threats are not the type to be ignored.”

“There isn’t much left that is mine for you threaten anyway, I’m afraid.”

With that, the Doctor opens the door again, and leaves. Cas waits a minute to reflect on what the Doctor said, then joins everyone in the hallway.

The brothers turn towards the sound of the door opening.

“Everything all good?” Sam questions, looking back and forth between the Doctor and Cas.

“Yes,” Cas settled, “everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Sam released a breath, “Alright then, let’s get going before we run into any guards again. Doctor, where to?”

The Doctor scanned his timey-wimey detector with the sonic screwdriver, trying to locate the closest advanced technology that could potentially be utilized to work in their favor. Meanwhile, Dean kept staring at Cas, unable to get the thoughts about what might’ve occurred between the angel and the Doctor from twisting around in his head.

Cas notices, “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean shakes himself out of his daze, “Yeah–yeah Cas, I’m alright.” He switches his attention over to where the Doctor is fiddling with his machines, “You got a signal yet, Doc?”

“I believe so,” the Doctor holds the detector up, “if I’m receiving the correct readings, it shouldn’t be much farther.”

“Lead the way, then.”

The four resume walking, letting the Doctor take the lead.

They journey on, taking note of their surroundings as they pass through areas that look so similar to each other that Cas starts to wonder if he’s maybe gone in a full circle by now. The only thing these neverending sequences of doors don’t have in common are the red numbers at the top. Some are in the single digits, while other rows are as high as the thirties. He remembers noticing them before, back when he was still searching for Sam and Dean. Interestingly enough, the Doctor hasn’t said anything about them yet. Has he taken note of them at all? Cas is still clueless as to what they might be counting, he’d been hoping that the others had discovered something about them. Maybe it was worth mentioning them to this ‘Doctor’ character, perhaps he’d have insight as to what they might be.

Speaking of the man in question, Cas isn’t entirely sold on the fact that this guy isn’t messing with them. According to Dean, he essentially appeared out of thin air. While Cas is grateful that he helped Dean and Sam escape and avoid danger thus far, that doesn’t mean that’s his overall goal. After the history the Winchesters had with Ruby, Cas automatically searches for the deeper intent of those the brothers team up with. Despite the Doctor’s kind and reassuring words, he can’t shake the feeling that there may be more to him than what meets the eye. Cas has come across several kinds of beings who have a darker side than they let on, and his instinct tells him that the Doctor might just be one of them.

Cas’ thoughts are interrupted when he notices something out of the corner of his eye. It’s a door that doesn’t match the rest of this area, just barely standing out. Compared to what they’ve seen in the studio before, there’s enough suspicion to prevent it from being a coincidence.

“What’s that?” Cas points to a door on the other end of the hallway. It’s practically hidden in the dark, with only one single blue light illuminating it from above.

“No idea,” Sam says, noticing what Cas was referring to first. “You getting anything, Doctor?”

The Doctor approaches where they’ve stopped, “It appears to be a big round door, I love big round doors!”

“Okay, great,” Dean nods along, “is there any helpful information that you’re picking up on it?”

“Nope,” the Doctor responds, checking the timey-wimey detector’s scans.

“Well, that’s extremely helpful and not at all concerning,” Cas comments.

“Maybe it’s the spatio-temporal hyperlink?” Sam asks, trying to stay optimistic.

“What’s a spatio-temporal hyperlink?”

“It means 'magic door' in, uh, space talk,” Dean explains.

“It’s the only round door in the station,” the Doctor points out, “I wonder why that is?”

Sam catches on to what the Doctor is saying, “You thinking that maybe it’s important in some way?”

“Quite possibly, yeah.”

Dean was still confused, “Uhhhh, okay? Could you share your reasoning with the rest of us please, Dr. Doofenshmirtz?”

“Well, why else would they shape the door differently? If the room on the other side was the same as everything else here, why not make the door? Since it’s the only one that stands out, whatever is behind it must be rather crucial,” the Doctor clarifies.

“Is that where your device thing is leading us?” Cas inquires.

“No,” the Doctor answers, taking one more hard look at the door before moving on.

Dean sighs, “Okay then. Maybe an important door isn’t actually that important, according to the high-tech scientific device. Regular Tuesday.”

Something was on the Doctor’s mind, that much was obvious to the rest of the group. Especially to Dean, he recognized that thinking face. Sam made it too whenever he was contemplating a theory, usually a valuable one that made an impact on what thing they were hunting. That sort of deep thought could be the line between life and death. Therefore, Dean figured that it would be the type of situation to share with the rest of the group. However, he wasn’t entirely sure the Doctor felt the same. This whole time, Dean was feeling like this involved a mental battle that was way out of his league. That’s part of the reason he had been so concerned about finding Sam. Since Sam is his little brother, he has a responsibility towards the guy, but also because he was hoping Sam would pick up on some of the stuff the Doctor was always talking about and share it as a team.

As much as Dean gives credit where credit is due, he has to admit that while the Doctor has been a genius so far, it also feels like he talks in circles and holds information back. If the older Winchester had to guess, it’s because the Doctor is used to being on his own. The whole alien factor probably doesn’t help in those instances, but can’t the Doctor understand that for them to get out of this, they’d have to work together? Or is that just another fact the Doctor is aware of and refuses to share?

This whole alien ordeal has thrown a wrench in the type of stuff the Winchesters excel in. Dean doubted that there were even any books or documents that contained information that would be helpful in this situation, no matter how deep Sam dug into research. Nope, the only option available was the Doctor.

And after this whole ordeal is over, he’ll write up some journal or papers about this adventure. That way, if another person falls down this hell of a rabbit hole they’d have something to go off of.

Or maybe he’ll just ask Sam to write it.

“Nearly there,” the Doctor’s voice cuts across Dean’s thoughts.

“Think he has any idea what might be waiting for us in this mysterious place that we’re willingly being led to?” Sam whispers to Dean.

“Knowing him?” Dean steals a glance at the back of the Doctor’s head, “Not likely.”

“He does seem to enjoy running headfirst into various ranges of danger,” Cas adds.

“And we don’t?” Sam scoffs.

“True, but you two at least attempt to do research beforehand to gain an advantage. A smarter move on your part,” Cas rationalizes.

Dean can’t help but smile a bit at the praise, “Thanks, Cas.”

“No matter how wrong and pointless it sometimes ends up being,” Cas continues.

The smile fades, “Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome.”

The three of them fade back into silence, the tension in the air rising as they keep getting closer to whatever the Doctor is tracking.

“Ah! Here we are,” the Doctor finally says, pocketing the timey-wimey detector.

“Great,” Dean opens his arms wide and looks around, “where is ‘here’ exactly?”

Chapter Text

The Doctor shrugs, “No idea, let’s find out, shall we?”

He uses the sonic on the door, presumably to unlock it, then swings it open and steps through. Sam just barely catches the door before it closes behind the Doctor, making sure to hold it so Dean and Cas can follow them in.

The group is met with nothing but black as the door swings shut after Cas.

“Anyway,” Dean starts to say while the Doctor tries to find some sort of light switch, “think we lost those guards?”

“Looks like,” comes Sam’s voice from the darkness of the room.

“They sure are persistent,” Cas’ voice chimes in, still right next to Dean.

The Doctor makes some sort of humming noise, “Indeed, the species of peregrinus praesidium are well known to take their jobs quite seriously. Practically born to be some type of security with their dedication.”

“That’s what the guards are called?” Sam asks.

Dean furrows his brows, “How long have you known that?”

“Since I got here,” the Doctor answers, his voice getting farther away.

Dean couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed at the withheld information, “And you didn’t think to tell any of us that?”

“Ah, yes, sorry. It didn’t seem to be the biggest concern at the moment.”

Sam tries to turn the focus back to more pressing matters, “You expect them to come back?”

“No doubt they will.”

“That’s not going to be a pleasant confrontation,” Cas points out bluntly.

Dean scoffs, “No kidding.”

“Afraid not,” the Doctor agrees.

Silence blankets the atmosphere for a few seconds before it breaks as bright lights fill the room.

“Ah,” the Doctor exclaims, “There we are!”

Now that he could see, Dean took a look around. There were computers nearly everywhere, while cables were strung about the walls, connecting all of them. Seats were in front of each computer, yet there was no one in sight. The room reminded Dean of some sort of empty computer lab. Glancing upwards, he was greeted with the sight of tubes and clear wires that all led through a circular cutout in the ceiling.

“Where are we?” Dean ponders, taking it all in.

“I’d say that it appears to be some sort of research area, based on this equipment here,” Cas replied, reaching out and brushing the top of the nearest computer.

Sam grabbed what seemed to be a sort of file from the table with metal cabinets behind it at the front of the room.

“What do you think these guys were researching?” Dean walked over to a tower of lights and switches. “Any ideas, Doc?”

The Doctor opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes caught something behind Dean. Quickly, he pulled out the sonic screwdriver and aimed it above the eldest Winchester’s head.

Dean turned around just in time to see sparks fly from a device on the top of the wall behind him. “Whoa,” he ducked, “what the hell?”

“Security cameras,” the Doc said, giving no other explanation. “They’ll be all over in a place like this. We have to disable them before any unwanted company finds out where we are,” he ran over and stood on top of the table near Sam, searching around for more.

The others follow suit, immediately dropping whatever they were focusing on before to deal with the threat at hand. Dean notices three more, Cas and Sam each spot one, and the Doctor takes down those four, as well as two others.

“What is that?” Cas asks from the far side of the room.

Sam moved over to check out what Cas was talking about while the Doctor and Dean gave one last glance around to see if they missed any security cameras.

“Bad Wolf?” came Sam’s confused voice, “What the hell does that mean?”

The Doctor whipped his head around so fast that Dean was honestly shocked he didn’t pull something in his neck. His eyes grew to the size of saucers, and he took several steps backwards, “No….”

“Do you know what that means?” Sam inquires, noting the Doctor’s reaction

“I’m guessing it’s not about Little Red Riding Hood,” Dean comments.

Cas became even more confused, “What would a wolf have to do with a red hood using means of transportation?”

“It’s a fairytale story for children,” Sam clarified, “but I’m pretty sure that Dean’s right about the writing.”

Dean ignored them, “So, what’s it mean, Doc? Anything you wanna tell the rest of the book club?”

“It means something very bad is happening.” He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair, “Something very, very bad.”

“How bad are we talking? End of the world bad, or leaving the oven on bad?”

“More than a suitcase and a trolley full of bad. Think apocalyptic level of serious, and if we don’t stop it, there’s no telling what could go wrong.”

Team Freewill shot each other a look, remembering all the shit they had to fight the last time they had to deal with something on that scale.

“At least we have some experience with that,” Dean points out.

“Do you have any idea what’s causing it?” Sam asks, addressing the Doctor.

The Doctor shook his head, “Not a clue.”

“Oh, well, that’s super helpful,” Dean sarcastically remarks.

“But maybe,” the Doctor went to the nearest computer and pulled out the sonic screwdriver, “these can aid us in finding out.

Catching on, Sam approaches the computer next to the Doctor and works on hacking into it. The Doctor continues to use the screwdriver on his own chosen piece of technology.

“Whoever these guys are, they’ve got some insane defense systems built into their computer,” Sam says in frustration, having no luck.

“You’re saying, what? You can’t bypass these assholes?” Dean says in disbelief over Sam’s shoulder. There weren’t many things the younger Winchester couldn’t hack his way around.

Sam shook his head, “It’s not as easy as it seems, Dean. This kind of stuff has some alien attributes to it that I don’t know my way around. I can probably do it, but it’ll take longer than usual.”

Dean made some sort of shrugging motion and nodded to the computer, “Well…hurry up then, we don’t have all day.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Oh really? Thanks for the reminder, it’s not like I wasn’t aware of that already.”

The Doctor beats Sam’s attempt at hacking with the sonic screwdriver, and his computer screen comes to life with a “beep”.

Sam furrows his brows, “How-how did you do that?”

The Doctor held up the screwdriver, “Told you, sonic screwdriver.”

“Does it normally have the ability to hack into alien databases?” Dean marvels.

“It does loads of things. Well, except wood, like I said before.”

“I still think that’s inconvenient,” Cas grumbles, remembering the argument that Dean had stopped back when the angel and the Doctor first met.

“Uh, guys,” Sam brought their attention back to the computer, “you should take a look at this.”

They all crowd around the computer, with Sam taking the seat, the Doctor standing on the side while resting his hand on the top of the monitor, and Dean and Cas standing behind the chair.

The screen displays a page with headshot photos of several different people, all with their names highlighted in red. There’s a category name at the beginning of each section, and a percentage in either green or yellow next to it. Sam continues to scroll down, the list seemingly endless.

“Wait, hang on,” Dean leans in as Sam stops scrolling, “those look like the constants from the game show I was on.”

The Doctor pulls a pair of glasses from his pocket and puts them on. “Probably because they are,” he says, squinting at the screen.

“What do you mean?” Cas asks.

The Doctor nods at the screen, “They’re the victims who got eliminated. Well, most of them. Well, those who didn’t die a horrific death by getting all traces of them erased.”

Cas was still puzzled, “I’m not sure I get the point of that. They’re just keeping those things there as…a way of remembering those who lost?”

Sam types away on the computer and pulls up a different screen, one with documents full of details.

“So get this,” he says, reading through the reports, “it seems as though these guys keep records of contestants that get eliminated from the show. Those are then used to track how successful the programs are and compare the personalities of the losers. The higher the ratings of viewers, the more likely the next people picked will have a similar background to those who have already failed. That way, they can guarantee accurate predictions on how everything will turn out. The expectations to this are, like the Doctor said, those who get turned into dust because they’re considered to fail so horribly that they don’t bother taking notes on them.”

Dean wrinkles his nose, “That’s fucking sick, is what that is. They’re just basically taking note of what people are best to prepare for slaughter on their stupid TV shows!”

The eldest Winchester walks away, putting his hands on his hips in an attempt to try not to take physical action against anything.

The Doctor hums in agreement, “And that’s just the ones who’ve lost on these programs.”

Cas tilts his head, “What do you mean?”

“The information here is only about those who got eliminated. There’s nothing on the winners or who are currently still in the game.”

“You’re thinking there are other records then,” Dean states.

“I mean,” Sam chimes in, “it makes the most sense. But if these people are noting down that stuff, the details aren’t here.”

“Assuming, that is, if they keep a record of it at all,” Cas says.

Dean tiredly runs his hand down his face, “Man, this alien shit is making my head spin.”

Cas gives him a once-over, “It looks perfectly fine to me.”

“It’s a saying, Cas,” Sam responds, “remember?”

“Oh, right.”

A silence fell between the group, the only noises coming from Sam, who was still messing with the technology in front of them, and the Doctor, who was currently tapping his fingers on the desktop.

Meanwhile, Dean might’ve been lost in thought, but it wasn’t about the stuff they found on the computer. The Doctor had freaked out once he saw the writing on the wall about the wolf thing, a reaction Dean had yet to witness from the man. It was a bit concerning, especially since the Doctor didn’t seem to be phased by any of the obstacles they had run into thus far. “More than a suitcase and trolley full of bad”? What the hell did that mean? Did whatever species the Doctor is seriously measure things in bags of some sort? Jesus, this stuff could get so confusing. All Dean wanted to do was relax with some burgers and a beer, and maybe watch a movie or two. If they had just stuck to his plan of getting the hell out of Dodge, that could’ve already been happening. That is, assuming the Doctor had a way out of this place that could drop him, Cas, and Sam back home. If Dean had to guess, the “magical time box” that the Doc had mentioned before was their ticket out of here. He hoped this so-called box would be big enough to fit all of them.

Dean pulls himself from his thoughts, returning his attention to his younger brother, who is, unsurprisingly, still typing furiously.

“I wonder how they keep track of it all in real time? Maybe some sort of system that updates periodically?” the Doctor wonders out loud.

“So, we’re back to the idea that the station keeps records of everything, then,” Dean noted.

“Well, sure, why not?” Sam gestured to the computer screen, “I mean, they keep reports of basically everything else.”

Cas suddenly remembered something he noticed earlier, “There were red numbers on the doors, I saw them. A few were in the high twenties and thirties, but most only had single digits.”

“Counters then, of those participating for each program behind a door,” the Doctor determines.

Sam glanced back at the computer screen before turning back to the group with a new thought in his head, “Well, then there’s got to be some place where they store all this. I mean, if you ran a massive entertainment station, wouldn’t you want to keep the information about it somewhere safe?”

“Somewhere more secure than here, and not out in the open where anybody could stumble on it, that’s for sure,” Dean pitched in.

“If we could retrieve evidence of this information and what we’ve seen, could we turn it over to the proper authorities for this…space area…and shut down this station?” Cas inquiries.

The Doctor shrugs, “I’d say there’s a high chance of it, yeah. It’d be enough for the Judoon to step in, that’s for sure.”

“What the hell is a ‘Judoon’?” Dean asks.

“Ah,” the Doctor elaborates, “they’re the equivalent of a police force, only for space. Their appearance is strikingly similar to that of an earth rhinoceros.”

Dean throws his hands in the air, “Great, we’re going to be saved by zoo space animals.”

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s dramatic reaction. He exits the screen with the gruesome details about everything, trying to locate a file on this “Bad Wolf” thing the Doctor had mentioned. There didn’t appear to be anything labeled even remotely similar among the documents, no sign of animal-related information or hints at some type of code. Sam supposed there was always the chance that the Doctor was making this whole thing up, but he had a feeling that told him otherwise. Dean was probably beginning to lose a bit of faith in the Doctor, considering the man has a habit of being cautious towards those who don’t seem to add up as they say they do. Perhaps Sam was putting a bit too much blind faith in the dude, but there aren’t a ton of other options at the moment, and the Doctor had yet to lead them directly into danger.

Either way, Sam couldn’t be too sure of what Cas was thinking on the matter. The angel had a habit of confirming to trustworthy things, but also had questionable taste in choosing the right path at times. The whole ordeal between Cas and the Doctor in the janitor’s closet was weird. Sam will agree with Dean, yet Cas still hasn’t changed his mood towards the alien, so there’s a possibility that it was nothing that the brothers had to worry about.

Oh, why did he let himself get dragged by Dean on this hunch of a case? Surely he’d be much more useful digging up stuff at the bunker. Which reminds him, he’s going to have to make a note of this adventure in some sort of journal and log it for the Men of Letters archives. Future Sam will cross that bridge when he comes to it.

“Still nothing?” Dean comes up from behind him.

Both Cas and the Doctor have returned their attention to investigating the rest of the room, leaving Sam and Dean at the computer by themselves.

Sam sighs, racking his eyes up and down the current page he’s on, “Doesn’t look like.”

“Fabulous, another dead end that leaves us with more questions than answers. I didn’t think it was possible to hate this place more, but man, it keeps getting worse.”

“You’re telling me. I think I’d rather take a fight with angels over this mess.”

“Or the whole mess with finding a phoenix and collecting its ashes to defeat Eve.”

“Oh man,” Sam leans back in his chair, “Eve sucked.”

“Only won that ordeal because of Bobby.”

“We won a lot of things because of Bobby.”

“I wonder what he’d have to say about this whole thing.”

Sam chuckles, “Probably call us idjits and point out something obvious that we’ve completely missed.”

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He nods in the Doctor’s direction, “Think Bobby would trust him?”

“Knowing Bobby?” Sam crosses his arms, “Definitely not right away. But if the guy has good intentions, yeah, I think he eventually would.”

“Now,” the Doctor comes up from behind the two and places his hands in his pockets, “going off the fact that we seem to be almost done here, I say we move on with the plan, thoughts?”

“Speak of the devil,” Dean mumbled under his breath.

“Who isn’t here,” Cas interrupts.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, “Yes, thank you, Cas.”

“Anyway,” the Doctor continues, “there seem to be a lot of things we don’t know here. And I hate not knowing things.”

“So, the next part of the plan is to come up with a new plan to figure stuff out?” Sam guesses.

“Afraid so,” the Doctor confirms.

“Well, I suppose we’d better get thinking then,” Dean states.

“I’m guessing the new plan is going to involve leaving the safety of this room and going back out to where the guards are searching for us?” Cas asks, glancing between the three of them. He wasn’t particularly itching to go back out into danger, especially in a place they're unfamiliar with, and risk anything happening.

“Dead right, Cas,” Dean confirms, putting his hand on the angel’s shoulder in a form of comfort.

Cas frowns, “But I’m not…never mind.”