SPN/DW: On Our Own Terms prologue+1/4
NOTE: Many, MANY thanks to satavaisa for the beautiful art! Story written for crossbigbang.
PDF available here -- thanks to the wonderful deadflowers5!
SUMMARY: This was not a fixed point.
This could be set to rights.
This was what went through the mind of a lone ranger Time Lord when he found himself unexpectedly face to face with a teenaged human boy with demon blood.
PROLOGUE
Time is a flexible thing. It's a river that flows in various eddies. It's a storm that blows and then moves on.
There are certain things that can not be altered - these are fixed points in history. Things that must happen, or the fabric of reality itself unravels. But mostly, things can be tweaked here and there and things that have gone off the rails can be put to rights.
One of these fixed points in history is what mankind named the Apocalypse. The main difficulty with that is there were technically two of these. There was the fixed point in time - and there was the artificially created one caused by bored angels and demons working together and using a family to cause this to happen on their timetable.
This was not a fixed point.
This could be set to rights.
This was what went through the mind of a lone ranger Time Lord when he found himself unexpectedly face to face with a teenaged human boy with demon blood.
CHAPTER ONE
July 30, 2001
It was the hottest day in the past month. The sun beat down with a vengeance all day, and its humid warmth lingered long after it had taken a bow and exited stage west.
It was not the most comfortable of environments to be walking in, even this close to midnight. And yet, a single tall, thin form was heading down the blacktop on foot with a pair of duffels flung over his shoulders and his father's furious words still ringing in his ears.
So lost was he in his fury and his pride that he missed the growling rumble of the big car's engine until it was nearly on top of him. Then he just set his jaw and kept walking.
His brother guided the car up beside him and yelled out the window over the engine noise, "Get in!"
"I'm not goin' back, Dean!" he yelled back. "Dad made it pretty damn clear how much I'm welcome there!"
"Yeah, well, Dad's an idiot! Besides, I ain't takin' you back!"
That startled him so badly that he stopped walking. "You're... You're not?"
"Just answer me this, Sam," he asked, stopping the car and gazing steadily at his brother. "Is college really what you want?"
"I want to be normal, Dean. Normal kids go to college. And I've got a full ride to Stanford, so...."
Dean nodded. "Then get in."
Sam frowned, shaking his head. "Dean--"
"Look, it's too miserable sticky out here to be walkin'! I can't get you all the way to California without Dad getting suspicious - but I can save you from walking twenty miles to the bus stop the next town over -- and get you there in time to get the midnight express."
"Thanks, man." Sam got in, setting the duffels at his feet.
Seconds later, the night swallowed up the 1967 Impala's purring growl.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The drive to the bus terminal took a little over half an hour. In that time, the brothers talked about their separation, and how hard it was going to be.
They had never been separated like this before. Sam admitted that being separated from his big brother was the only part of leaving that he regretted.
Dean walked Sam through the bus terminal. He bought Sam's one-way ticket with his own money. Just before boarding the bus, Dean pulled Sam into a warm, tight hug, which Sam returned.
For Dean's sake, Sam pretended not to notice the two thick envelopes he felt Dean slide into his duffel during the hug.
Sam took a seat in the back row of the bus, with his duffels beside him. He watched Dean, standing on the platform with his hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket, until he only saw him in his mind's eye.
Sam was not surprised when a surreptitious check showed wads of money in each envelope.
He was surprised to find one of the wads concealed a note from his father.
Take care of yourself, son. Protect yourself.
Sam nodded, even as he crumpled the note in his fist. "Still not goin' back," he whispered. "You told me to stay gone."
"Who told you that?"
Startled, Sam looked up just as a thin man plopped down beside him. "Because I tell you what," the man continued, a definite London accent colouring his words, "that doesn't quite seem fair."
Sam scoffed lightly. "You don't even know me," he pointed out. "What makes you think I didn't deserve everything I was told?"
"I saw you on the platform," the stranger pointed out. "I'm assuming that wasn't the person who told you that. From that hug, and your ages, I'd say that was older brother sending younger one off to school." At Sam's shocked look, he plowed on: "So I'm guessing from the reaction to that note - whatever it says - that the writer was the one who told you to stay gone. And that it's someone very close. Reaction seems more full of anger than sadness, so that leads me to think it's not Mum - so I'd say you got in a fight with your old man."
"What are you, a modern day Sherlock Holmes?"
The stranger grinned, seeming to shed ten years. "Something like that." The grin faded. "In all seriousness, are you all right? You seem very upset."
He sighed, his head tilted against the window. "I was just going away to school. Most families, a full ride would be a cause for celebration. My dad? He hits the roof and tells me if I walk out that door, that I don't get to come back."
"Sounds like he was worried about you and didn't quite know how to show it."
Sam shot him a skeptical look, but couldn't resist the deprecating laugh. "You don't know my family. My father doesn't care about anything but his quest and us being perfect little soldiers under his thumb."
"His quest, huh?" He frowned. "What's he searching for?"
Sam's head rolled in a denial. "I don't even know anymore. I just want to be normal. I just want to have a quiet, safe life where nobody's ever heard of the name Winchester..."
"Winchester?" The man's eyes widened and he looked upward, counting on his fingers. His eyes widened and snapped to him. "2001, of course.... you're Sam Winchester?"
He raised his head and frowned. "How'd you know my name?"
The stranger licked his lips. "You'd be surprised what I know about you, Sam. About your past and your future."
"Who the hell are you?"
The stranger laughed softly, awkwardly. "Well, now, that's the hundred-thousand-pound question, isn't it?"
Sam just stared at him, laser-focused, until he chuckled and held out his hand. "I'm a traveler. My name's the Doctor."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "That's not a name, that's a title."
He laughed. "Well, you could call me Doctor Smith."
"I have a feeling that name's as fake as a three dollar bill."
"Then you can call me Doctor." He still had his hand out. "That, at least, is real."
Humming under his breath, Sam shook his head and then shook the Doctor's hand. "No need to introduce myself, since you already called me by name."
The Doctor's grin only grew. "Blimey, but you're as bright as I've heard!"
Sam chuckled softly with him, releasing his hand. After a few moments, he asked softly, "So - how do you know about me?"
"Oh, you know..." the Doctor shrugged slightly. "Bits and bobs of information here and there...."
"Yeah? Like what?"
The Doctor studied him, and seemed to reach a decision. The cheerful smile vanished, though the eyes were compassionate and warm. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry. But this dream you're chasing? It's never coming true."
His eyes went huge. "You're a psychic?"
"I'm a psionic. And I know the future you're being groomed for - and you're playing right into it."
Sam shook his head. "No.... I.... I'm only going to college--"
"Because that's what 'normal' kids do," the Doctor said, complete with making quotation marks in the air. His hands fell to his lap and his eyes bored into Sam's. "And you think that being 'normal' is your greatest dream."
"Except, according to you, it's a pipe dream," Sam scoffed.
The Doctor sighed. "I wish it was just according to me, Sam. Things are being set into motion - horrible, awful things. And it all goes into motion when you go 'normal' - and become vulnerable."
Ice slid down Sam's spine. "You're talking ambush."
"I'm talking tactical strikes," the Doctor countered. "More than one. To keep you on this rage-filled path of hatred and spite that you're currently barreling down, full steam ahead."
"How dare you --"
"You don't really want normal, Sam," the Doctor said, his voice kind but firm. "Not for yourself. You just want to prove your father wrong."
Sam shot him a glare that could have potentially frozen a small sun, before he turned to the window and watched the scenery roll by, pulling his fury about him like a cloak.
The Doctor waited him out, knowing that eventually his thoughts would sort themselves out.
It wasn't until they crossed from one state to another that the Doctor felt something in Sam shift. Slowly, he turned to look at the Doctor. "Is he wrong?"
"About some things," the Doctor said slowly. "Not about everything, though."
Sam nodded and then met the Doctor's eyes. "It's going to turn out bad, isn't it?"
"If you keep on this way, yeah." The Doctor sighed. "I know it's not what you wanted to hear."
"I want to hear the truth,' Sam shot back. "The real truth - not the halfway version that my dad's always told me. I can't deal any longer with my dad's 'need to know' crap."
The Doctor nodded. "I can understand that. Your father sounds military."
Sam's eyes widened. "He used to be a Marine."
"Aaaah, yes. I understand."
After a few moments of silence, Sam whispered, "He hates me."
"Who does? Your father?" At Sam's miserable nod, the Doctor shook his head. "No, I don't think he does."
Sam made a sound halfway between a groan and a chuckle. "You don't know my father. What we do, how he treats me...."
"He loves you. He just wants you as safe as he can make you."
"He told me not to come back." Suddenly tired, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the bus window. "If I can't go forward and I can't go back....."
"It's not a good feeling, is it?"
"No. It's not." He sighed deeply. "I don't know what to do. Where to go...."
"Where were you going?"
"Stanford."
The Doctor instantly smiled. "Aaah, congratulations! That's a fantastic school!"
Sam's eyes closed. "A stranger is happier for me than my own father. And according to you, I can't even go!"
"Frustrated?" At Sam's soft growl, the Doctor patted his shoulder. "I'm heading to Nevada, to catch a plane. Would you like to come with me? We can talk and I can help you make some plans." When Sam hesitated, the Doctor added, "And I promise I'll be honest with you."
Sam nodded. "Okay. I think I do need some help."
The Doctor patted his arm. "Right now, I think you need some sleep. Go ahead - I'll keep watch. I'll wake you before our stop."
Sam shot him a tired but grateful smile. "I appreciate it." He felt his eyes start to slip closed. "How long till the first stop?"
The Doctor looked at the watch he wore. "I'll let you rest for two hours." He smiled at Sam. "See you then, Sam."
"See you then." He automatically reached over, his hand tucking the duffels protectively against his side. He yawned and felt the warm comfort of sleep steal over him as the bus made its lumbering way through the hot July night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Some four and a half hours later, Sam and the Doctor disembarked in Reno, Nevada for an early breakfast.
"I can't believe you let me sleep for four hours," Sam groused, but there was no real heat in it. "You said you'd wake me after two!"
"Well, I tried." The Doctor pointed at Sam. "You tried to take off my head with one punch!"
They smiled at each other. It was the third time they'd had this exchange. By now it had become a tease.
Waiting till they were alone, Sam sipped his coffee and said softly, "You say you know my future, Doctor Psionic."
"Not the future for you," the Doctor said, just as softly. "One potential future for you. The same one, I'll wager, your father was told."
Sam frowned. "What? Why do you think he was told my future?"
"Think about it," the Doctor said. "You told me when you were about twelve, your father's behaviour abruptly changed."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "All of a sudden, I seemed to be.... tainted. I couldn't do anything right, and it just got worse the older I got. And when I got accepted into college, he reacted like one of his worst nightmares had just come to vivid, Technicolour life."
"Which leads me to think that he'd been told the same future I saw - where you embraced 'normal' and disaster came not just to you, but to your family and, ultimately, this world."
"This world?" Sam frowned, then discussion was put on hold as the waitress brought their food. As she moved off again, Sam lowered his voice even more and hissed, "I'm hardly so important that the world would be shaken because of my choices!"
"You alone, no. Your family -- yes." The Doctor calmly cut up a pair of bananas into his cereal as he said, "Your family has a special bloodline - one of only a handful - and certain forces are trying to manipulate you into triggering the events colloquially known as the Apocalypse."
Sam's jaw dropped open so fast that the Doctor feared for a second it had dislocated. He pulled it back up smoothly - easing that fear - and stuttered out in the same hiss, "The... The what?"
The Doctor nodded at him, smiling soothingly. "Oh, don't worry. Only the opening salvos have been fired. There's still plenty of time to avert the war." He took a bite of his cereal and pulled a face like he'd tasted something awful. "Needs more bananas." He reached for the bunch.
"Wait.... you're saying...." Sam sighed and ran a hand across his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side. "I'm confused," he groaned. "We're going to start the Apocalypse?"
Taking a bite of his cereal, the Doctor grinned. "Ah, three bananas did the trick." He looked at Sam. "No, I'm saying that certain forces think they can make you start it. But there's two things they're not counting on."
"Which are?" Sam asked, eyes huge.
"Well, the first thing --" the Doctor broke off and waved his spoon at Sam. "Eat your pancakes. I don't want you fuzzing out from low blood sugar while I'm talking." His reaction to Sam's annoyed glare was a brilliant grin.
He waited until Sam had started to make inroads on his short stack and bacon, then asked, "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah! The first thing is that the fixed point in history called the Apocalypse isn't supposed to happen in the latter half of the first decade of the 21st century. Which means that this? This can be fixed."
When the Doctor fell silent, Sam asked in a slightly trembling voice, "And...the second thing they're not counting on?"
The brilliant grin returned. "That would be me."
"I don't understand."
"Your family has been targeted. Specifically. You need someone on your side that isn't on one side or the other in this - that represents something bigger than this cosmic family feud. And I'm that person."
"How do you figure that?"
"They're expecting their agents to manipulate you every step of the way. Send you further on the path they choose you to go down. But they're not expecting someone to know what they're up to and who has the power to stop it."
"What can give you that power? Are you... are you a supernatural being?"
"Not hardly. But I'm not from your world."
And Sam choked on his bacon.
Laughing, the Doctor pounded his back until he caught his breath. After another sip of coffee, Sam gasped out, "You're kiddin', right?"
"Oh, I'm quite serious. And I can prove it." He wrapped his hand around Sam's wrist. "Feel your own pulse."
Sam did, pressing his fingers against his carotid and feeling the familiar 'lub-dub...lub-dub'.
The Doctor tilted his head back. "Now mine."
Sam pressed his fingers to the slender neck and his eyes widened. The pulse that thrummed under his fingers sang, 'Lub-da-duh-bum...Lub-da-duh-bum'. ".....the hell...Two hearts?"
The Doctor nodded.
Shaking, Sam whispered, "I thought aliens weren't real...."
"Exactly. The more people think that, the easier it is for me to move about and do what I need to do." He took the last bites of his bananas and cereal, and then pointed at Sam with his spoon. "The question is - are you willing to work with me to get this nightmare of a future unravelled?"
Sam looked at him, lost in thought. Then he blinked and cleared his throat. "What would I need to do?"
The Doctor smiled and handed him a folded billfold. "I need my ship. Come with me to get it and we'll go from there."
Sam opened the billfold and frowned. "It's.....blank."
The Doctor just grinned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A little while longer on the bus, and they arrived in Las Vegas. The Doctor led the way to the small airstrip on the outskirts of the airport, giving Sam instructions to "Act confident."
As they approached an old-fashioned stairway to a jet, a guard stopped them. "ID, please."
The Doctor produced his billfold, and Sam did the same. The guard studied them, and nodded, standing aside. "Have a good day, Doctor Smith....Technician Wesson."
As they boarded the plane, Sam chuckled. "Smith and Wesson?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Your ID. He expected to see a technician. Your brain provided the name. I guess it just couldn't get over the gun association."
"So where are we going?" Sam asked as the plane took off.
The Doctor smiled. "This is a 'Janet flight'. We're heading to Groom Lake, Nevada."
Sam gasped, eyes huge. His voice was a shocked whisper. "We're heading to Area 51?"
"Where better to hide an alien ship?" The Doctor chuckled at Sam's expression as he turned his stunned gaze to the windows.
It was going to be an interesting experience for the young human. Especially once he realised exactly what the Doctor knew he was carrying in his veins.
On to Part Two
PDF available here -- thanks to the wonderful deadflowers5!
SUMMARY: This was not a fixed point.
This could be set to rights.
This was what went through the mind of a lone ranger Time Lord when he found himself unexpectedly face to face with a teenaged human boy with demon blood.
PROLOGUE
Time is a flexible thing. It's a river that flows in various eddies. It's a storm that blows and then moves on.
There are certain things that can not be altered - these are fixed points in history. Things that must happen, or the fabric of reality itself unravels. But mostly, things can be tweaked here and there and things that have gone off the rails can be put to rights.
One of these fixed points in history is what mankind named the Apocalypse. The main difficulty with that is there were technically two of these. There was the fixed point in time - and there was the artificially created one caused by bored angels and demons working together and using a family to cause this to happen on their timetable.
This was not a fixed point.
This could be set to rights.
This was what went through the mind of a lone ranger Time Lord when he found himself unexpectedly face to face with a teenaged human boy with demon blood.
CHAPTER ONE
July 30, 2001
It was the hottest day in the past month. The sun beat down with a vengeance all day, and its humid warmth lingered long after it had taken a bow and exited stage west.
It was not the most comfortable of environments to be walking in, even this close to midnight. And yet, a single tall, thin form was heading down the blacktop on foot with a pair of duffels flung over his shoulders and his father's furious words still ringing in his ears.
So lost was he in his fury and his pride that he missed the growling rumble of the big car's engine until it was nearly on top of him. Then he just set his jaw and kept walking.
His brother guided the car up beside him and yelled out the window over the engine noise, "Get in!"
"I'm not goin' back, Dean!" he yelled back. "Dad made it pretty damn clear how much I'm welcome there!"
"Yeah, well, Dad's an idiot! Besides, I ain't takin' you back!"
That startled him so badly that he stopped walking. "You're... You're not?"
"Just answer me this, Sam," he asked, stopping the car and gazing steadily at his brother. "Is college really what you want?"
"I want to be normal, Dean. Normal kids go to college. And I've got a full ride to Stanford, so...."
Dean nodded. "Then get in."
Sam frowned, shaking his head. "Dean--"
"Look, it's too miserable sticky out here to be walkin'! I can't get you all the way to California without Dad getting suspicious - but I can save you from walking twenty miles to the bus stop the next town over -- and get you there in time to get the midnight express."
"Thanks, man." Sam got in, setting the duffels at his feet.
Seconds later, the night swallowed up the 1967 Impala's purring growl.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The drive to the bus terminal took a little over half an hour. In that time, the brothers talked about their separation, and how hard it was going to be.
They had never been separated like this before. Sam admitted that being separated from his big brother was the only part of leaving that he regretted.
Dean walked Sam through the bus terminal. He bought Sam's one-way ticket with his own money. Just before boarding the bus, Dean pulled Sam into a warm, tight hug, which Sam returned.
For Dean's sake, Sam pretended not to notice the two thick envelopes he felt Dean slide into his duffel during the hug.
Sam took a seat in the back row of the bus, with his duffels beside him. He watched Dean, standing on the platform with his hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket, until he only saw him in his mind's eye.
Sam was not surprised when a surreptitious check showed wads of money in each envelope.
He was surprised to find one of the wads concealed a note from his father.
Take care of yourself, son. Protect yourself.
Sam nodded, even as he crumpled the note in his fist. "Still not goin' back," he whispered. "You told me to stay gone."
"Who told you that?"
Startled, Sam looked up just as a thin man plopped down beside him. "Because I tell you what," the man continued, a definite London accent colouring his words, "that doesn't quite seem fair."
Sam scoffed lightly. "You don't even know me," he pointed out. "What makes you think I didn't deserve everything I was told?"
"I saw you on the platform," the stranger pointed out. "I'm assuming that wasn't the person who told you that. From that hug, and your ages, I'd say that was older brother sending younger one off to school." At Sam's shocked look, he plowed on: "So I'm guessing from the reaction to that note - whatever it says - that the writer was the one who told you to stay gone. And that it's someone very close. Reaction seems more full of anger than sadness, so that leads me to think it's not Mum - so I'd say you got in a fight with your old man."
"What are you, a modern day Sherlock Holmes?"
The stranger grinned, seeming to shed ten years. "Something like that." The grin faded. "In all seriousness, are you all right? You seem very upset."
He sighed, his head tilted against the window. "I was just going away to school. Most families, a full ride would be a cause for celebration. My dad? He hits the roof and tells me if I walk out that door, that I don't get to come back."
"Sounds like he was worried about you and didn't quite know how to show it."
Sam shot him a skeptical look, but couldn't resist the deprecating laugh. "You don't know my family. My father doesn't care about anything but his quest and us being perfect little soldiers under his thumb."
"His quest, huh?" He frowned. "What's he searching for?"
Sam's head rolled in a denial. "I don't even know anymore. I just want to be normal. I just want to have a quiet, safe life where nobody's ever heard of the name Winchester..."
"Winchester?" The man's eyes widened and he looked upward, counting on his fingers. His eyes widened and snapped to him. "2001, of course.... you're Sam Winchester?"
He raised his head and frowned. "How'd you know my name?"
The stranger licked his lips. "You'd be surprised what I know about you, Sam. About your past and your future."
"Who the hell are you?"
The stranger laughed softly, awkwardly. "Well, now, that's the hundred-thousand-pound question, isn't it?"
Sam just stared at him, laser-focused, until he chuckled and held out his hand. "I'm a traveler. My name's the Doctor."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "That's not a name, that's a title."
He laughed. "Well, you could call me Doctor Smith."
"I have a feeling that name's as fake as a three dollar bill."
"Then you can call me Doctor." He still had his hand out. "That, at least, is real."
Humming under his breath, Sam shook his head and then shook the Doctor's hand. "No need to introduce myself, since you already called me by name."
The Doctor's grin only grew. "Blimey, but you're as bright as I've heard!"
Sam chuckled softly with him, releasing his hand. After a few moments, he asked softly, "So - how do you know about me?"
"Oh, you know..." the Doctor shrugged slightly. "Bits and bobs of information here and there...."
"Yeah? Like what?"
The Doctor studied him, and seemed to reach a decision. The cheerful smile vanished, though the eyes were compassionate and warm. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry. But this dream you're chasing? It's never coming true."
His eyes went huge. "You're a psychic?"
"I'm a psionic. And I know the future you're being groomed for - and you're playing right into it."
Sam shook his head. "No.... I.... I'm only going to college--"
"Because that's what 'normal' kids do," the Doctor said, complete with making quotation marks in the air. His hands fell to his lap and his eyes bored into Sam's. "And you think that being 'normal' is your greatest dream."
"Except, according to you, it's a pipe dream," Sam scoffed.
The Doctor sighed. "I wish it was just according to me, Sam. Things are being set into motion - horrible, awful things. And it all goes into motion when you go 'normal' - and become vulnerable."
Ice slid down Sam's spine. "You're talking ambush."
"I'm talking tactical strikes," the Doctor countered. "More than one. To keep you on this rage-filled path of hatred and spite that you're currently barreling down, full steam ahead."
"How dare you --"
"You don't really want normal, Sam," the Doctor said, his voice kind but firm. "Not for yourself. You just want to prove your father wrong."
Sam shot him a glare that could have potentially frozen a small sun, before he turned to the window and watched the scenery roll by, pulling his fury about him like a cloak.
The Doctor waited him out, knowing that eventually his thoughts would sort themselves out.
It wasn't until they crossed from one state to another that the Doctor felt something in Sam shift. Slowly, he turned to look at the Doctor. "Is he wrong?"
"About some things," the Doctor said slowly. "Not about everything, though."
Sam nodded and then met the Doctor's eyes. "It's going to turn out bad, isn't it?"
"If you keep on this way, yeah." The Doctor sighed. "I know it's not what you wanted to hear."
"I want to hear the truth,' Sam shot back. "The real truth - not the halfway version that my dad's always told me. I can't deal any longer with my dad's 'need to know' crap."
The Doctor nodded. "I can understand that. Your father sounds military."
Sam's eyes widened. "He used to be a Marine."
"Aaaah, yes. I understand."
After a few moments of silence, Sam whispered, "He hates me."
"Who does? Your father?" At Sam's miserable nod, the Doctor shook his head. "No, I don't think he does."
Sam made a sound halfway between a groan and a chuckle. "You don't know my father. What we do, how he treats me...."
"He loves you. He just wants you as safe as he can make you."
"He told me not to come back." Suddenly tired, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the bus window. "If I can't go forward and I can't go back....."
"It's not a good feeling, is it?"
"No. It's not." He sighed deeply. "I don't know what to do. Where to go...."
"Where were you going?"
"Stanford."
The Doctor instantly smiled. "Aaah, congratulations! That's a fantastic school!"
Sam's eyes closed. "A stranger is happier for me than my own father. And according to you, I can't even go!"
"Frustrated?" At Sam's soft growl, the Doctor patted his shoulder. "I'm heading to Nevada, to catch a plane. Would you like to come with me? We can talk and I can help you make some plans." When Sam hesitated, the Doctor added, "And I promise I'll be honest with you."
Sam nodded. "Okay. I think I do need some help."
The Doctor patted his arm. "Right now, I think you need some sleep. Go ahead - I'll keep watch. I'll wake you before our stop."
Sam shot him a tired but grateful smile. "I appreciate it." He felt his eyes start to slip closed. "How long till the first stop?"
The Doctor looked at the watch he wore. "I'll let you rest for two hours." He smiled at Sam. "See you then, Sam."
"See you then." He automatically reached over, his hand tucking the duffels protectively against his side. He yawned and felt the warm comfort of sleep steal over him as the bus made its lumbering way through the hot July night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Some four and a half hours later, Sam and the Doctor disembarked in Reno, Nevada for an early breakfast.
"I can't believe you let me sleep for four hours," Sam groused, but there was no real heat in it. "You said you'd wake me after two!"
"Well, I tried." The Doctor pointed at Sam. "You tried to take off my head with one punch!"
They smiled at each other. It was the third time they'd had this exchange. By now it had become a tease.
Waiting till they were alone, Sam sipped his coffee and said softly, "You say you know my future, Doctor Psionic."
"Not the future for you," the Doctor said, just as softly. "One potential future for you. The same one, I'll wager, your father was told."
Sam frowned. "What? Why do you think he was told my future?"
"Think about it," the Doctor said. "You told me when you were about twelve, your father's behaviour abruptly changed."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "All of a sudden, I seemed to be.... tainted. I couldn't do anything right, and it just got worse the older I got. And when I got accepted into college, he reacted like one of his worst nightmares had just come to vivid, Technicolour life."
"Which leads me to think that he'd been told the same future I saw - where you embraced 'normal' and disaster came not just to you, but to your family and, ultimately, this world."
"This world?" Sam frowned, then discussion was put on hold as the waitress brought their food. As she moved off again, Sam lowered his voice even more and hissed, "I'm hardly so important that the world would be shaken because of my choices!"
"You alone, no. Your family -- yes." The Doctor calmly cut up a pair of bananas into his cereal as he said, "Your family has a special bloodline - one of only a handful - and certain forces are trying to manipulate you into triggering the events colloquially known as the Apocalypse."
Sam's jaw dropped open so fast that the Doctor feared for a second it had dislocated. He pulled it back up smoothly - easing that fear - and stuttered out in the same hiss, "The... The what?"
The Doctor nodded at him, smiling soothingly. "Oh, don't worry. Only the opening salvos have been fired. There's still plenty of time to avert the war." He took a bite of his cereal and pulled a face like he'd tasted something awful. "Needs more bananas." He reached for the bunch.
"Wait.... you're saying...." Sam sighed and ran a hand across his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side. "I'm confused," he groaned. "We're going to start the Apocalypse?"
Taking a bite of his cereal, the Doctor grinned. "Ah, three bananas did the trick." He looked at Sam. "No, I'm saying that certain forces think they can make you start it. But there's two things they're not counting on."
"Which are?" Sam asked, eyes huge.
"Well, the first thing --" the Doctor broke off and waved his spoon at Sam. "Eat your pancakes. I don't want you fuzzing out from low blood sugar while I'm talking." His reaction to Sam's annoyed glare was a brilliant grin.
He waited until Sam had started to make inroads on his short stack and bacon, then asked, "Now, where was I? Oh, yeah! The first thing is that the fixed point in history called the Apocalypse isn't supposed to happen in the latter half of the first decade of the 21st century. Which means that this? This can be fixed."
When the Doctor fell silent, Sam asked in a slightly trembling voice, "And...the second thing they're not counting on?"
The brilliant grin returned. "That would be me."
"I don't understand."
"Your family has been targeted. Specifically. You need someone on your side that isn't on one side or the other in this - that represents something bigger than this cosmic family feud. And I'm that person."
"How do you figure that?"
"They're expecting their agents to manipulate you every step of the way. Send you further on the path they choose you to go down. But they're not expecting someone to know what they're up to and who has the power to stop it."
"What can give you that power? Are you... are you a supernatural being?"
"Not hardly. But I'm not from your world."
And Sam choked on his bacon.
Laughing, the Doctor pounded his back until he caught his breath. After another sip of coffee, Sam gasped out, "You're kiddin', right?"
"Oh, I'm quite serious. And I can prove it." He wrapped his hand around Sam's wrist. "Feel your own pulse."
Sam did, pressing his fingers against his carotid and feeling the familiar 'lub-dub...lub-dub'.
The Doctor tilted his head back. "Now mine."
Sam pressed his fingers to the slender neck and his eyes widened. The pulse that thrummed under his fingers sang, 'Lub-da-duh-bum...Lub-da-duh-bum'. ".....the hell...Two hearts?"
The Doctor nodded.
Shaking, Sam whispered, "I thought aliens weren't real...."
"Exactly. The more people think that, the easier it is for me to move about and do what I need to do." He took the last bites of his bananas and cereal, and then pointed at Sam with his spoon. "The question is - are you willing to work with me to get this nightmare of a future unravelled?"
Sam looked at him, lost in thought. Then he blinked and cleared his throat. "What would I need to do?"
The Doctor smiled and handed him a folded billfold. "I need my ship. Come with me to get it and we'll go from there."
Sam opened the billfold and frowned. "It's.....blank."
The Doctor just grinned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A little while longer on the bus, and they arrived in Las Vegas. The Doctor led the way to the small airstrip on the outskirts of the airport, giving Sam instructions to "Act confident."
As they approached an old-fashioned stairway to a jet, a guard stopped them. "ID, please."
The Doctor produced his billfold, and Sam did the same. The guard studied them, and nodded, standing aside. "Have a good day, Doctor Smith....Technician Wesson."
As they boarded the plane, Sam chuckled. "Smith and Wesson?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Your ID. He expected to see a technician. Your brain provided the name. I guess it just couldn't get over the gun association."
"So where are we going?" Sam asked as the plane took off.
The Doctor smiled. "This is a 'Janet flight'. We're heading to Groom Lake, Nevada."
Sam gasped, eyes huge. His voice was a shocked whisper. "We're heading to Area 51?"
"Where better to hide an alien ship?" The Doctor chuckled at Sam's expression as he turned his stunned gaze to the windows.
It was going to be an interesting experience for the young human. Especially once he realised exactly what the Doctor knew he was carrying in his veins.
On to Part Two