[This Temple Tilts] Chapter One
Dean can feel something wrong when he opens the driver side door. He couldn't explain it if he tried, but he would definitely use the word dead. So when he turns the key and nothing happens, he's not entirely surprised. That doesn't stop him from swearing like a sailor and trying six more times.
She doesn't even stutter - just dead silent.
"Maintenance?" Sam asks, laptop balanced comically on his knees. Dean rolls his eyes and gets out, pulling the hood up and checking all the usual suspects. The oil is still full enough. Battery is still good. All the fuses are in the right place. Everything is right where it needed to be. There's no reason for this. She was fine yesterday... Dean closes the hood and gets back in the car.
"Sam," he says slowly, the idea percolating, "you don't think that crazy broad...?"
"When would she?" Sam replies. He's clearly still using the motel Wi-Fi, and Dean knows he only has half his brother's attention. "And with what?" Sam adds as an afterthought.
"I'm sorry, am I interrupting your porno time with the fact that we're stranded?" Dean snaps as he rubs his hands together. The fall morning is warming up, but the inside of the car is preternaturally chilly.
"Sorry," Sam says, though he sounds more distracted than apologetic. "I'm just trying to follow this case."
"Yeah?" Dean scoots closer across the front seat to see the screen. The headline scrolls just out of view, but not so fast that Dean doesn't see it: Megafauna Ravage Canadian Wilds. "You do know that big animals aren't really our area, right?"
"It's our kind of weird. Reports of dinosaurs from some campers."
"Crazies and nature," Dean replies, trying the key in the Impala one more time. Sam fixes him with a petulant expression that clearly says Don't be a dick, and Dean shakes his head. "Bitchy little girl. I tell you what, let me call Bobby. We're gonna need a ride anyway. You keep... googling, or whatever."
Bobby answers with a friendly-as-ever, "What now? Doesn't a man deserve from rest after helping avert the apocalypse?"
"Apparently not. Routine job, I promise." Dean steels his nerves. He doesn't want to have this conversation. He would rather talk about Sam's sex life than say this. "We need a tow."
"Do I look like triple A?" Bobby intones, and Dean can practically feel Bobby roll his eyes from four states away. "What'd you do to her?"
"Nothing! She was working fine last night. The engine is good, but she isn't turning over." Dean shifts in place and adds, "Also, Sam thinks there's some weird shit going down in Canada. Any chatter?"
Over the phone Dean can hear Bobby shuffle some papers. "I've heard some, but there's already four or five hunters up there sniffing it out."
Dean breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. Great. I'll let him know. You gonna come bail us out?"
"Yeah, like always - what's the address?" Dean gives him the address of the hotel and goes back to the car, where Sam is still reading with hard frown lines marring his expression. Dean hates to see Sam look so aged and wearied, but it's been a hell ever since the night at the abbey. Even with the apocalypse safely behind them, Dean can see “what if” weighing heavily on Sam's shoulders. He pulls the passenger door open, and Sam flinches away before collecting himself. "Look, it's going to be another day before Bobby gets here it - you wanna go check in again?"
"Sure." Sam closes his laptop and passes it off to Dean as he unfolds himself from the front seat. Dean lingers over his car for a moment longer, hand flat against the metal as if he could coax her to life by his touch alone.
No such luck. "Son of a bitch," he grumbles, heading back into the hotel room; at least it's warm in there from running the heater last night. He sits on the corner of the bed, tosses the laptop onto Sam's, and considers calling Castiel. If only he knew how Castiel would react - these days it seems to be a fifty-fifty chance that Castiel will resent being called, and Dean just doesn't have the energy. He's got Sam and his bleeding heart issues. The last thing he wants is Castiel to remind him that just because the apocalypse is postpone doesn't mean the battle is done.
Still, he thinks back to the woman; to her weird mannerisms and the way she said You aren't normal. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel my soul to keep," he grumbles, and Castiel shows up a moment later.
"I hate that prayer," Castiel says, his expression sour. Great. "Humans are so cavalier about souls."
"Sure," Dean retorts. "Do you have an angel on the loose? We had a close encounter with the weird kind."
Castiel raises an eyebrow, but it does little to lighten the look on his face. "Many angels are 'on the loose' right now - it's impossible to know them all. Did it have a name?"
"She didn't give us one." Dean leans back on his elbows, staring at the yellowed ceiling of the hotel room. "She kept asking after a doctor, though; said that he calls her sexy. Second thought, maybe not an angel."
"Did she say 'the doctor'?"
"Yeah." Dean titls his head to stare at Castiel, who is staring at the ground like he's trying to read something off the faded carpet. "I think so. Sam will remember. Why?"
"We were able to intercept some communication between Raphael and one his operatives, and they also mentioned 'the doctor'. This might not be a coincidence." In a second Castiel's expression turns from frustration to concern. He turns to Dean and asks, "Did she try to hurt you?"
“Dean - .”
“Hey.” They both turn to look as Sam enters the room, unzipping his jacket as he closes the door behind them. "I got us two more days.” He turns to Castiel. "Something wrong?"
"I thought that chick might be an angel," Dean says before Castiel can answer that question in far too much detail. Even post-apocalypse, there's still too much to call wrong. "Cas is gonna look into it for us."
"Yes," Castiel says, but he's not wearing his happy expression. Dean can tell. "I will be in touch." Without any pomp or circumstance he's gone, leaving Sam and Dean alone together. They share a look, and Dean clears his throat. Man, there is a lot to call wrong.
"Bobby said some other hunters are already taking care of Canada," Dean says. "So, you know, chill out."
"Yeah, okay," Sam says. "Lunch?"
"Hell yes, lunch."
* * *
Castiel checks the Impala first, looking for some trace of grace. What he finds isn't exactly grace, but it's quite powerful and entirely unfamiliar. Whatever it was that accosted Dean and Sam wasn't an angel, but it also wasn't anything close to human.
More curious is the Impala. Typically it's thrumming with force of its own even when turned off. Now the car is just a lump of formed metal and combustive elements. Castiel can find nothing in it that indicates life. He hardly understood why the car had force, and why it doesn't now makes less sense. He sets this aside as something to be considered after he finds this creature.
Instead he follows that trail in mind. It's not so bright and fading fast, but it's enough that he can follow it through the world and it - it has a companion. Two trails, stronger and vibrant when entwined, but both frail like the essence of the human soul. Interesting.
The trail goes west, and Castiel follows. Because this could be a tipping point in this war. Because this could be something substantial. And because Dean asked.
* * *
Bobby finally arrives on the morning of their third day at the Riverside Hotel. He parks his tow truck by the Impala; the "Singer Salvage" logo on the side is so faded and cracked that Dean wonders when he last rolled it out of storage. Dean has never been so grateful to the see the cranky old bastard; he gets itchy when he stays settled for too long. Too long to think about the past year - to long to think about what now?
"Well, she's dead alright," Bobby says after spending thirty minutes under the hood of the Impala. "Your daddy would weep."
"Not before he killed me," Dean replies, "and it's not even my fault." They haven't heard from Castiel at all since he left. It's not like this is the first time Castiel has taken longer than expected on recon, but Dean would be happier if he knew exactly what Castiel is doing.
"Yeah, well, she's an old girl and she's seen it all. She was gonna go sometime.”
"Whoa whoa, no one is going anywhere!" Bobby doesn't respond as he aligns the tow truck and the Impala. When he gets back out again, Dean adds, "Seriously, she's gonna be fine. This isn't a big deal."
"Dean." Bobby meets his eyes and shakes his head. "We'll take a look at her when we get to the yard."
"Thank you." Dean helps him attach the chains, carefully and with as much love as he has. Come on, baby, you can't die on me now. He clears his throat. "Any word from the great white north?"
"Actually, no," Bobby says, standing straight for a minute. "I completely forgot about that. We'll give 'em a call when we get back, but Garth would've called if anything went wrong.”
Once the Impala is secure on the truck they get Sam, still engrossed in his laptop, and cram in for the long drive north. "Hard reading?" Bobby asks when Sam sighs under his breath and leans closer to his laptop screen. He doesn't even do that mobile broadband shit - Dean has no idea what he's reading.
"This case is huge." Sam closes the laptop and balances it on his lap. "Okay, so Canada has earthquakes and dinosaurs, right?"
"Yeah, Garth is on it," Dean says, trying his damnedest to sound convincing.
"Who's Garth?" Sam asks, looking momentarily derailed.
"No one," Bobby chimes in. "You got weirder than earthquakes and dinosaurs?"
"I've got apocalyptic seals."
The whole truck goes silent, and suddenly I-90 seems to stretch out forever in front of them. Dean's can feel the sweat forming on his neck when he finally manages to say, "A little late for that, isn't it?"
"Sure - especially since these seals were already broken." Sam flips the laptop back open to reread something, moving his lips along. "We have witnesses in Los Angeles, witches attempting to raise Samhain, no deaths in this one city for 24 hours - all in the last day. Something is definitely wrong here."
"Angels?" Bobby asks. It seems like he's driving just a bit faster, and Dean wouldn't blame him for booking it home. "Are these seals one-time deals, or do they get to try again?"
"They can't try again, we killed the key to his cage, remember?" Dean considers calling Castiel, but then remembers that he's wedged between an old hunter and his brother. There isn't room for an angel with personal space issues. "Lilith can't be killed to open the door if she's already dead."
"True." Sam sighs, and Dean nods in silent agreement. The idea of having an apocalyptic do-over is enough to make Dean want to call it quits on the world. Just pack it in and have a beer and let it fucking happen. "I dunno, we should look into it, at least, right?"
"Damn right," Bobby says. "When we get back."
* * *
The trail stops at a hotel in Albuquerque. The trail stops and the thrum of that latent energy is strong. He asserts himself inside room 509 and promptly finds his body frozen. It's an interesting sensation. He can still move outside his vessel, slip quickly out of it if he wishes, but Jimmy's body is held immobile. Time has paused.
A woman with long hair is standing in front of him, her face contorted in pain as she holds out a single hand with her palm facing Jimmy. Another woman rushes forward to pull the woman's hand down. Castiel waits, unwilling to abandon Jimmy to forces unknown. "Don't!" the smaller woman says. "He's good. He owns my Dean."
"I do not own Dean," Castiel replies once his vessel obeys. Time is shifting again; Castiel can see the strands spring back into place. "My mark is not that encompassing."
"It's not about your mark," the woman says. She comes closer, squinting at his face and moving in a circle around him. "You look so strange like this. Why are you here?"
"I'm looking for her," Castiel considers the two of them. The one with the long hair is stronger - she almost feels like an angel, except everything about her is very different. She's no demon either... He looks in her eyes. Revealed like that, she seems too old and too tired for the body she inhabits. She's sits on the bed, leaning back and watching with some confusion and a bit of disinterest. She runs a hand through her dark hair. "She may have damaged Dean's car."
The short-haired woman throws back her head as she laughs laughs, bracing herself with a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Me? Oh no, I'm fine, thank you. I'm just helping her find the Doctor."
Castiel furrows his brows and steps closer to the woman on the bed. "You're no angel. Where did Raphael find you?"
The woman raises both eyebrows. "I work for no one," she says. "Are the Judeo-Christian angels looking for my Doctor as well? Troublesome..." She looks over to her accomplice. "We can't have him here for too long, things get broken."
Castiel can barely make sense of her speech, the way she jumps from topic to topic like Sam when he's had too much to drink. "Who is the doctor?"
The woman holding his shoulder nods and leans close to him. When she touches his cheek he feels it, and his eyes go wide from shock. It's impossible. Dean won't believe him even if he tries, even as the woman says, "It's a long story, and we need to work fast. Tell Dean not to worry; I'll be his again soon. In the mean time - "
* * *
This time when the house comes into focus River is a couple decades farther ahead than expected. That's the problem with stealing someone else's tools - they never quite fit. She peers at the vortex manipulator attached to her wrist and squints. It's Amy's time - somewhere across the ocean her parents are probably having dinner. She shakes the thought away.
The house is showing its age, and the surrounding salvage yard has the overgrown look that those sort of yards get when they become more junk than salvage. River takes the porch steps two at a time and peers in the front window, through gauzy yellowed curtains that had certainly once been white. Thankfully, finally, there they are. "Perfect," she breathes. The door has been left unlocked; she lets herself in, turning the corner into the kitchen. The three men are just starting to look toward her.
"Do you have any idea how hard you two are to find?” She sighs and shakes her head, but smiles at their immediate exasperation. “I must've hit four different time periods in this house." She squints at the old man, looks down at her wrist again. Surely it hasn't been that long, the poor bastard. "Last time I was here, you were younger with a blushing bride. By the looks of the place, she's long gone." All three men, young and old, glare at her like she's stabbed them. River pulls her gun from her holster, even knowing that the Doctor wouldn't approve, and levels it at the tall one's head. "So, tell me now - what did you do with the Doctor?"
"Seriously? What is with this doctor?" the other young man says. His gun comes out from behind a pile of books on the table; he doesn't hesitate to aim for her. His stance is good, his hands steady - River is impressed. "I'm tired of hearing about him, and I want some answers. Who the hell is the Doctor?"
River raises an eyebrow and looks from tall to shorter to old. "You don't have him?"
Young-with-a-gun rolls his shoulders and his scowl deepens. "If I did, I would give him back just to shut you people up."
"You people? Who exactly has been asking after the Doctor?" River holsters her own gun without taking her eyes off of him. He pointedly doesn't lower his weapon, and River actually appreciates the honesty of the gesture. "Here's the thing, boys; I have a trail that leads right to you, and the only thing in the world that looks like this on a scanner is the TARDIS."
"Never heard of it," young-with-a-gun replies. He finally lowers the weapon, but not so far that he can't change his mind. River smirks. "It was another chick that asked after him. Sam?”
"She was youngish," the tall one says. "She was a little scattered. Shorter than Dean. Long hair, sort of dark skinned. She kept saying that he called her 'sexy,' which... seemed sort of strange, to be honest."
The smile drops of her face, and River shakes her head. "Oh. Oh no, that's impossible..." River steps back outside the house, walks the perimeter as she considers it. The Doctor mentioned once upon a time a planet that ate ships and - it doesn't seem possible at all. She ducks back into the house. The three men stop whatever they're talking about to stare at her again. "Sexy - she said sexy specifically?"
"Yeah," Dean says. The gun has been replaced with a beer, and it's already half empty. "He calls her sexy and they've been together for 700 years. Seriously. Nutty."
That seals it. River walks around the house for a couple more laps, trying to process the idea that the TARDIS is running around the Earth in a human form. If that's how things are going, then it's much worse than River thought. The Doctor being kidnapped was nothing - River has busted the Doctor out of a couple tight spots without the world being the wiser. But if the TARDIS is out and about and her body is collecting dust somewhere... She enters the house a third time.
"You still here?" the old one says when she steps in the kitchen. "We got some serious stuff going on here, so if you don't mind either stayin' or goin', I'd like to be able to focus on one thing at a time."
"I'm in," she says, dropping into a chair that looks like it hasn't been cleaned since 1983 and propping her feet up on the table between two piles of books that have to be at least a couple centuries old. "Nice collection here, gentlemen. I suppose I should introduce myself - I'm Doctor River Song. Not the same Doctor. Archeologist, before you ask. From what I gather, the big one is Sam, the violent one is Dean, and the old one owns the house, am I right?"
"That's right," the old one says. "Bobby, thanks for asking. Now why don't you tell us about the doctor?"
"Bobby!" Dean says, then turns to her. "Look, I'm sure this doctor of yours is really important. We'll be glad to give you a hand when we get our own shit worked out, but right now we've got our hands full. Can't you see another doctor?"
"Another - Oh, look at you, you have no idea." River lowers her legs and leans forward, looking him square in the eye. "For every miserable day that you've had to wake up, get drunk, and fall asleep lonely you have the Doctor to thank. That man has saved this world more times than you could ever comprehend. You should be glad to help find him."
"He saved the world? He saved the world?" Dean stalks a trail to the trash can, and his bottle breaks when it hits the bottom. "The things I could tell you about saving the world - "
"Dean," Sam says, stepping between them and looking from River to Dean. He squints at her and says, "You said last time you were here. Dean, I think..." Sam looks as though he's trying to wrap his mind around a particularly complicated math problem - to be fair, River considers, he is - and pulls a chair to sit across from her. "Can I see your gun?"
River complies, and Sam looks at it carefully, considers it from every angle. Bobby is watching from a careful distance, but Dean comes in close over Sam's shoulder, muttering to himself. Sam is as careful as Dean when he handles a firearm; River can spot the signs a mile away. "Do you see what you're looking for?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow when Sam looks up at her again. He nods, and hands the gun back to her.
"That's not modern technology," he says finally, quietly. "You're not from this time, are you?"
"Got it in one, big boy," River says, holding up her wrist. "Bona fide time travel device not for the faint of heart, and this is the small one. You're smart. I like that. I tell you what, boys. Let's swap stories. You first - what's such a big deal here?"
"Apocalypse," Bobby says. When River shoots him a disbelieving look, he makes a sour face. "Don't look at me like that, like time travel is somehow more believable. You know anything about the nasty weather last year - earthquakes, tsunamis, all that?"
River shakes her head. "This isn't my usual timeline, and when I'm here I stick to the other side of the Atlantic. I may have heard a thing or two about some weird weather."
Dean scoffs. "Well, you're looking at the three unsung heroes of the apocalypse. It was a pain in the ass. We nearly died. And you tell us the doctor saves the world."
"In what you consider the last year he stopped this planet from being incinerated. He rewrote the universe to stop it from collapse."
"Well, there you go!" Bobby picks up a book, and opens it to a tattered leather bookmark. "Sounds an awful lot like an apocalypse to me."
River would have taken more time to consider this if not for the loud crash as something landed square in the middle of the table. The wood splintered and cracked in two under the force. River dodges fkying books and watches one of the table's legs skitter across the tile floor. When the dust settles she realizes that something is actually someone. "Well. This is just going to get more complex, isn't it?"
* * *
It's nearly dark before they get the kitchen back in order - including taking the shards of the table out outside and retrieving a rickety card table from the basement. It might have gone faster, if Dean hadn't stopped every couple of minutes to see if Castiel had woke up from his rendezvous with Bobby's kitchen floor, but no dice. So far no one had decided to try to explain angels to River, not in the least because she took to explaining the Doctor while they cleaned up and eventually made some dinner.
"So you think the weird woman all up on my car was his - his spaceship," Dean says. Truthfully, he's passed his event horizon for weird. At some point between time travel and spaceship he just gave in. Maybe he would wake up soon, but in the mean time there was nothing to do but deal.
"TARDIS," she insists. "It's much more complex than a spaceship, and this is bad. She can't sustain a human form for long. If she's looking for the Doctor, things are much worse than anticipated." River accepts scotch on the rocks when offered, and they migrate to the living room where Castiel is still out like a dead man. Dean reminds himself that the lack of breath is normal for an angel. "And you say your apocalypse is repeating itself?" She says it with about as much belief as Dean can muster for spaceship, so he figures that they're at least on equal planes of what the hell.
"Yeah," Sam says. He's sitting with a cup of coffee and glued to his damn laptop again. When Dean last asked he said he was following the feeds on all the right news sites to catch news a more weird occurences. "And unfortunately, our source on all things angel is currently out."
River snorts and stares at him for a long time; she seems to force herself to look away and close her eyes. "Not what I expect when you say angel," she says finally, looking over at Dean. "So, the TARDIS came to you two, and asked for help."
"Well, no," Dean says. His scotch is somewhere between gut-rot and tolerable, and leans back in the arm chair and tries to remember exactly what it was she said. "It was something about needing our magic, and then that we were wrong."
"Magic," River scoffs. "That ship is so whimsical."
"She's a ship." Dean jumps, turning his attention to where Castiel was laying just a second ago - except now he's sitting up, rubbing his head and staring at River. "You are out of order."
River nods. "You're observant."
Castiel nods briefly as though in thanks - Dean really needs to get to that explanation of sarcasm - and turns to Dean. "I have something to tell you. You're not going to be pleased."
"My day is a whole lot of not pleased.” Dean resists the urge to check Castiel for bruises or wounds. There would be none, after all. "What got the drop on you?"
"The Impala." The silence stretches just a little too long before Castiel adds, "In the vessel of a woman." When no one speaks again, Castiel continues, "The ship and the Impala are looking for the doctor. Do you know anything?"
Dean buries his face in his hands, and listens helplessly as Sam says, "Let me fill you in..."
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Epilogue