[Supernatural-Doctor Who] Mad Men
Title: Mad Men
Fandoms: Supernatural-Doctor Who
Characters: Sam Winchester, the Doctor, Lisa Braeden
Rating: PG13
Contains: nothing you wouldn't see on either show.
Word Count: 4,815
Summary: Somehow out of the Cage but not wanting to crash Dean's apple-pie life, Sam waits around Cicero, long enough to stumble into a hunt and across a mad man in a box.
Notes: For de_nugis, for the Fall Fandom Free-For-All, even though it missed the official deadline by six months. (Whoops.) Takes place post-series five for both shows, and will ignore any additional canon from either series six. I have plans to make this into its own series, but it stands on its own at the present.
Sam is in a coffee shop, immersed in reading up on immortality, when he hears someone say his name. It's a female voice, familiar, and he looks up to see Lisa Braeden standing to the side of his table.
"Lisa," he says, dumbly. He's in Cicero, Indiana, but it's not a small town; he honestly didn't expect to see her. Not so soon, at least.
She smiles, tentatively. "I thought it was you. How are you doing?"
"Fine," Sam says, still a bit dumbstruck. "How are you?"
"I'm fine. And Dean's fine," she adds, before Sam can even ask. "He misses his younger brother, though. You should stop by, sometime."
"How do you know I'm not a shifter, or a ghoul, or a demon?" he asks. Then, realizing what he said, he amends, "I'm not, but--"
"If you were a demon, or a shifter, or a ghoul, intent on getting close to Dean and killing him, you would have immediately sought him out. You didn't, so I'm guessing you're not."
Sam thinks it over for a moment, then says, "Point."
Lisa lifts her head up, towards the baristas, and says, "Hold on one moment." It takes her two, but then she's back, a to-go cup cradled in her hands. All hesitance gone, she sits down across from him. "So how long have you been topside?"
"Uh..." Sam says, before slowly closing his laptop. "About a week, now."
She raises an eyebrow. "Dean only got here a week ago."
Sam shrugs. "I know. I... I saw you all, the first night. And I wanted to go to Dean, but... he looked happy."
It's Lisa's turn to give a small laugh. "I'm happy," she says. "And Ben is happy. Dean is not unhappy, but I think that's the closest to happy he's ever going to get."
"Yeah..." Sam says, about to say something more, but he gets the feeling he doesn't need to expand on that, not with Lisa. "And you're okay with that?"
She shrugs. "I'd like to be able to make him happy, but after all he's been through..." She shrugs again. "I don't think it's in him to be happy, or that he'll allow himself to be happy, not for a while, but... but nothing, really. It is what it is, I can't change it, I can only be there for him."
Sam nods. He knew there was a reason he liked her.
"So what are your plans, then? If you're not planning on talking to Dean, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know," Sam admits, honestly. "A part of me was thinking about going back to school, but--"
"After stopping the apocalypse, being a lawyer doesn't hold the same appeal?" she offers.
"I was going to say that I have a rap sheet with the FBI, and I don't think Stanford will let me back in, but that too," Sam says, wryly.
Lisa smiles at him, and takes a long sip of her drink. "If you're not in a hurry to leave, though..."
Sam stares at her, waits for her to continue.
She sets down her cup on the table, then reaches into her purse. She pulls out a newspaper clipping, and slides it across to Sam. "I saw this article a few weeks ago, and a few similar ones in the couple of days since. I don't want Dean going back to hunting, he never seems happy when he's hunting, but I figured someone needed to look into it. I decided I'd give it another day before passing it do Dean, but now it won't look like I'll need to."
Sam picks up the article, scans through it. "That's..." he starts, staring at the clipping. He looks up at her. "Dean didn't notice a newspaper with an article clipped out of it?"
"I told him Ben was using it for class," Lisa says.
Sam laughs, then turns back to the article.
"Dean's been scouring the papers, looking to make sure the world isn't still ending, that it doesn't secretly need him."
"He's just itching to throw himself back on a blade," Sam mumbles. He looks up at her. "Thanks," he says, "for keeping him from it."
"I don't know if I can, but I'll try." She takes another sip of her drink, then looks at her watch. "I need to be heading off, but..." she scribbles something down on a napkin, and slides it to him. "Call me if you need anything."
"Thanks," Sam says, taking the napkin, but knowing he won't call. "I'll look into it."
"Thanks," she replies. "And before you leave town, really, give me another call, okay?"
He nods, though again, he knows he won't. "Sure thing."
She gets up, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and grabbing her drink. "And take care of yourself, alright, Sam?" she says.
"Yeah," Sam says, nodding, smiling. "You too."
And then she's walking out of the door, and out onto the sidewalk, and out of sight.
+ + +
Children are going missing in Westfield. They're going missing, and returning a day later, completely unharmed, and unaware that a day had been lost. Although the first article -- from five months ago -- had the kids claiming to have spent the time with an imaginary friend on a different world, none of the articles have mentioned anything about that since.
It's a twenty minute drive southwest to Westfield, in a car that he acquired through less than legal means.
He parks at the library, heads in to print off a map of the town, and jots down notes on it -- marks the parks where children went missing, how many of them there were, the dates they were gone. There's no pattern that emerges; the children go missing from any time from ten in the morning to six in the evening. Sometimes it's two children, sometimes seven, or any number in between. Ages five to eleven, both boys and girls. He goes to all the parks, but other than the fact they're parks, there's no real similarities between them.
And when he returns to the library, and starts looking into the histories of the parks, researching until the library closes, there continues to be no similarities between any of them.
There's nothing more he can do on the case for now, so he heads back to Cicero, orders a veggie supreme pizza (and relishes not having to get half meat lover's), and crashes in his motel room. He flips on the TV, the mindless crime procedural (with douchebags who wear sunglasses at night) providing background noise as he continues his research on why he was brought back from the Cage.
+ + +
The next morning, against his better judgement, Sam plugs Lisa's number into his phone, and dials. It rings, and rings, and rings, and goes to voicemail. Sam doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if Dean will ever listen to it for whatever reason, so he just hangs up a few scant moments after being prompted to leave a message. He waits a minute, and tries calling again, but this time it goes straight to voicemail, which is a sign that Lisa has either turned her phone off, or denied his call, and either way, Sam gets the message. Not now.
He's in a diner, halfway through his short stack, when his cell rings.
"Hey," he says, picking it up on his second ring. "Sorry, I realized I may have woken you up."
"Yeah," she says, distractedly, after a few moments.
"Or was it a bad time?"
"Bad time," she says, not bothering to try and lie.
There's something more to her tone, though, and Sam cautiously asks, "Was it something with Dean?"
"Yeah, he's..." she trails off, and he can hear her make a frustrated noise through her nose. "He just hasn't been sleeping well, that's all. Nothing more. But it's okay, we're going to be okay. What's up, what do you need?"
It takes Sam a considerable amount of self-control not to press her about Dean. Instead he asks, "How well do you know Westfield?"
"I have a few clients who live there, and Ben has a few friends there as well. Why?"
"You have a few minutes to get a cup of coffee?"
+ + +
"I have to admit," Lisa says, as she sits across from him, "I wasn't really expecting you to call."
"Neither was I."
She gives him a small smile, and asks, "What can I help you with?"
Sam slides the map of Westfield over to her. "Do you see any pattern in this?"
"Nope," she replies, almost immediately, but she keeps looking at the map. A minute later, she says, "But..." She turns the map so it faces Sam, and points at a spot on a map. "There's a small park here -- and I'm pretty sure a kid went disappearing here, a month back."
Sam shuffles through his sheaf of notes.
"Because if it's the same thing, then..." Lisa prompts.
"Then it makes a circle," Sam concludes, circling the park and penciling in the details. "But what's in the middle of it?"
"An elementary school. It's a smaller school, but it has a pretty big field and playground."
Sam frowns at it. "I'm guessing it's a pretty popular?"
"One of Ben's friends had her party there," Lisa confirms, taking a sip of her drink.
"I hate to ask this," Sam says, lowering his voice, "but did anything tragic ever happen there?"
Lisa looks surprised, but just shakes her head. "Not that I know of."
Sam hums in reply, and keeps going through his notes.
"You have any idea what you're dealing with?"
"Not in the slightest," Sam says. It doesn't bother him, though. He's worked with less.
+ + +
It's nearly one o'clock, when Sam arrives at the park, and it's almost eerily silent. There are four children in the sandbox, all too young to be in school, and three women sitting on a bench nearby, but other than that, the park is empty.
"Excuse me?" he says, as he approaches the women.
They all turn to look at him at exactly the same moment, and for a moment he wonders if they're witches. He hopes not -- Dean may have been the one with a personal vendetta against them, but that doesn't mean that Sam is all that fond of them.
He flashes his badge at them. "Hello, I'm Agent Page, with the FBI. I was wondering if any of you have seen anything strange lately?"
"Strange?" one of the women repeats. She's got dark hair and dark eyes, but despite her slightly mocking tone, she's got a soft look to her. "You mean like the children that go missing and then show up the next day?"
Sam tucks his badge back into his pocket and nods. "Strange like that, yeah."
"Well then, there have been children that have been going missing that have shown up the next day," she says, a small smile on her lips.
"Is the FBI looking into it?" another woman asks, a redhead this time.
Sam nods. "We're not making our presence here public, but a few of us have been sent to look into the disappearances."
"Well, that's a relief," the redhead continues.
"It'll only a relief if they find the culprit," the other woman says, her hair not as dark as the other's, and in a shorter cut.
"We're trying, ma'am," Sam replies. "And it'd be a great help if any of you knew or saw anything."
The first woman frowns. "Why? None of the disappearances have happened here."
"Yes, but we're just trying to cover all the bases. Have you seen anything here, or at any other park, anything at all?"
"Missy has seen something," the second dark haired woman says, teasing.
The redhead ducks her head. "Kate," she says, embarrassed.
Sam turns towards her, and pulls out a notepad. "What did you see?"
"It's nothing," Missy insists.
"Miss, I trust human intuition. If your friend says you say something, even as a joke, I don't see what the harm of following it up is."
Missy still looks sheepish, but she explains, "I started babysitting for the Phillips last week, just before the time when another child went missing -- Joseph, their kid, is old enough to play by himself, but.. you know how it is. Now, they asked that I take him here, since it's outside all the disappearance business, yeah? Well, day after the fifth kid goes missing, I'm here, with Joey, and he's playing on the monkey bars, and I watch as this guy circles around the park."
"And what did this guy look like?"
"About as tall as you, much skinnier, maybe a younger than you, dressed like some old English professor. And he was holding this... thing, with little propellers that were whirling about, and as he passed me, I heard him muttering about read-outs..."
Sam nods in encouragement.
"And it was a bit weird, so the next day I came here a bit later, and he was here too, making another lap, and... it was just strange."
Kate is grinning, and Sam is trying to figure out how to best respond, when the other woman says, "Missy?"
"Yeah?"
"This weirdo of yours... was he cute?"
Missy flushes. "A bit, yeah. Why?" They all turn to follow the other woman's eye line, and Missy hisses, "That's him!"
Sam watches as a man -- looking maybe a year younger than him, much skinnier, and about the same height, dressed as an English professor or similar -- starts walking around the park.
"Thank you very much for your help," Sam says, and smiles at them. "If I need anything else, I'll be sure to come back." And then he starts over towards the strange man.
As he approaches, he can hear a faint 'strange, very strange' being muttered by the man, who is holding an odd looking contraption -- which on closer examination looks suspiciously like an EMF reader.
"Excuse me, sir," Sam says, stepping into his path.
The man looks up, and a brilliant smile crosses his face. "Hello."
Sam flashes his badge. "Agent Samuel Page, FBI."
The man pulls a leather wallet out of his inside coat pocket, and flashes its contents at Sam. "Captain Troy Handsome. Health Department."
The contents of the badge are completely blank. Sam frowns as the man tucks it back away. "Sorry, can I see that again?"
There's a curious look on the man's face as he pulls it out and holds it back up.
The blank page from a moment ago now looks like the stickers available at group meetings, and cheerfully reads: Hello! My name is: The Doctor. Sam hesitates a moment, glancing between the man and the page, then says, "It says your name is the Doctor."
The man -- the Doctor -- looks down at it. "Does it?" he asks, before downright beaming at Sam. "Samuel, you said?"
"Sam," he corrects.
"Well, Sam, are you looking into the disappearing children as well?"
Aware that the three women are probably watching them, and thinking this would best be taken out of the public, since Sam honestly isn't quite sure what is going on -- this guy isn't a hunter, can't be a hunter -- he asks, "Would you mind coming with me?"
+ + +
And that is how Sam winds up at a diner five minutes later. Thankfully there had been a place nearby that Sam had taken notice of on his way over; it was a nice, quiet diner, of a local chain, where it teetered on the edge of being close-knit and corporate.
Sam had lead him towards the back, at a booth where he could keep an eye on all the exits -- the main entrance, an exit to his side near the kitchens, and a door on the far wall for emergencies only.
And a strange man called the Doctor sitting in front of him. A strange man called the Doctor who is currently poking around in the back of the contraption with a fork.
"So..." Sam starts, after the waitress returns with their coffees. He has no idea what to ask, so finally he settles on, "You a hunter?" even though he's mostly sure he's not.
The Doctor looks up from what he's doing, and repeats, "Hunter?"
"Yeah," Sam replies.
"No," the Doctor replies. "Could you hand me a sugar packet?"
Sam does. "So why are you looking into this?"
The Doctor pours the contents of the sugar packet into the machine. "Because this dinged, and it always dings when there's stuff. A brilliant invention, made it a bit ago, back in the late sixties, I always have loved stuff."
It's an unfair judgement to make, Sam knows, but he is pretty sure that this guy is completely mad. Aside from the dated outfit and dinging contraption and general crazed air about him, there was no way he could have been around in the sixties. Unless he had an angel zapping him back in time, but Sam had a feeling he would know if that were the case. After a moment, he recomposes himself and continues, "So it dings near stuff and so you're hunting this monster too?"
"Alien," the Doctor corrects. "Not a monster, an alien."
Sam... isn't nearly as surprised as he thinks he should be.
Their waitress returns, looks between them, and realizing Sam is probably the one to ask about such matters, asks if either of them would like anything.
Sam had gotten a salad wrap on his way down to Westfield, and instead asks about their selection of pies. Apparently their cook has won a local fair for her famous blackberry-peach cobbler, and Sam orders two pieces. The waitress smiles, jots it down, and heads off.
Once she's gone, Sam is abruptly aware he's ordered for the Doctor, and would feel awkward about it, if the Doctor hadn't added his spoon into the mix of whatever he was doing. "So," Sam says, again. "Aliens."
"Yes," the Doctor replies, then rattles off some collection of syllables that Sam is guessing is the species name of the monster. Alien. Thing.
"And it's kidnapping children and returning them a day and an hour later."
The Doctor looks up at that. "You caught that. Most blokes are just saying the kids return the next day, but you--" the Doctor points his spoon at Sam "--you know about that hour."
Sam shrugs. "It was in the papers."
"Paper. Only one paper mentioned it, and it only mentioned it once."
Sam shrugs again. "Doesn't mean it wasn't important."
"The article said the children spent the time with their imaginary friend."
"And?"
"All the local police have written it off as a shared hallucination. Delusion. It's the normal explanation."
Sam huffs a small laugh. "I'm not used to normal explanations, Doctor."
The Doctor looks at him consideringly. "No," he says, expression odd. "I'd imagine you're not."
The waitress comes then, and sets down two plates of cobblers, but just as she does, the Doctor’s contraption dings, and then he’s up and out of the booth without another word.
Sam watches him go, flabbergasted.
“Was he...?” the waitress starts, at her spot to Sam’s side. She bites her lip, nervously, before concluding, “...alright?”
Sam doesn’t know. Instead, he smoothly says, “It’s federal business, ma’am.”
The waitress stares at him for a few moments.
Not knowing what else to do, Sam takes a bite of the cobbler. It is pretty damn good.
"Anything else?" the waitress asks, looking at him expectantly.
Sam swallows and asks, "Can I get this second piece to go?"
+ + +
He arrives at his motel some fifteen minutes later, and flops down on his bed. He had gotten a single room, double beds, out of habit more than anything else; just like he had for the months when he and Dean had split up, Sam "leaving" hunting while Dean employed Cas. Sam had told himself he had been happy, but it wasn't until joining back up with Dean did he realize how lonely he had been.
Likewise, he had been fine on this hunt, until the Doctor came and Sam realizes how nice it had been to just have someone by his side.
There's not much he can do about it now -- Sam's instincts have usually been spot on, have told him that Jess was special, that he should return to hunting with Dean, that in the end he could use his powers for good. Now it's telling him that he and the Doctor will cross paths again, and there's nothing he can worry about now.
Huh. Nothing to worry about. Sam can't remember the last time that had happened.
+ + +
He awakes to a loud ringing. Instantly he's sitting up, and groping around. It's darker than he expected -- the red lights of the clock informs him it's 6:01, and then Sam realizes his phone is ringing, and he's about to pick it up after its fifth ring, but suddenly the call drops. The number isn't one he knows, and he stares at it for a moment before blinking the remaining sleep out of his eyes.
Then he realizes it's 6:01. The timeline, if it holds, will have a few children disappearing.
Instantly he's on his feet, deftly stripping off his suit and back into his normal jeans, shirt and flannel overshirt. He grabs his phone, giving one more glance at the number, then he grabs his keys and heads out.
+ + +
It's a pleasant late-May weeknight, and there's a respectable amount of people out. Families chatting, children playing, and Sam is a lone guy with a suspicious looking bag full of suspicious things like guns and ammo. He's thankful that he at least looks young and mostly not suspicious himself, otherwise this might be a bit more difficult.
He settles down at the edge of the field, pulling a worn paperback out of his bag. He takes a quick headcount of the field (ten men, thirteen women, twenty-three children) and then angles himself enough so he can keep an eye on most things, but doesn't look it.
Five minutes pass, and then there are twenty children on the field.
Another five minutes, and then there are seventeen.
Sam can hear a mother calling for her son. The children are heading towards the cluster of buildings that make up the school, and Sam picks up his bag and heads down the sidewalk, close enough to keep an eye on the last child, but far enough away that if anybody's watching, it wouldn't look like he was following the child.
He circles around the cluster of buildings, approaching from the opposite side.
The children have all gathered in a small courtyard, and are all giggling and talking in excited, hushed tones.
And then there's an odd plopping noise, and the giggles quiet and then return ten-fold, and Sam glances to see the alien that the Doctor mentioned earlier.
And stares.
He doesn't know what he was expecting -- something like a mix between ET and a Klingon -- but it's just a purple humanoid-looking alien. With tentacles. And eyestalks.
"Alright," it announces, sounding rather happy. "Who wants to go play?"
The children chorus with chants of "oh me!" and Sam sets down his bag and enters the courtyard, clearing his throat.
The alien looks up at him, and the children turn and follow suit.
"Hey," Sam says, raising his hands in a placating fashion. "Where are all your parents? Mike, I think your mom was calling you."
"It's alright," the alien says, lifting its tentacles up, mirroring Sam.
"It's alright," a little boy -- Charlie, who had been gone missing before -- repeats. "Johnny is our friend! He doesn't hurt us! We just play tag and Red Rover and--"
He's interrupted by a loud whirring noise.
Sam turns to see a blue phone box fade in and out of view at the corner of the clearing. After a moment, the phone box solidifies, the door opens, and the Doctor steps out.
Sam really isn't as surprised as he think he should be.
"Ah, Sam, good to see you again," the Doctor says.
"Doctor," Sam greets.
The alien -- Johnny -- whirls around at that, eyestalks swaying. "You're the Doctor?" he asks, and it almost sounds like he's horrified.
The Doctor nods. "Yes, and you're quite a far way from home."
"My home is lost," Johnny says. "It fell through a crack."
"I know," the Doctor replies somberly. "But a few others made it out okay, have started their own settlement on Colano Delta. Nearby star system, similar atmosphere. There's already a growing population there, you can be among your own species again, you don't have to take these children."
The children start protesting at that, swarming in around Johnny. He pats them all on the head, saying his goodbyes.
Sam moves over so he's standing by the Doctor.
"So they just... played?" Sam asks.
The Doctor nods. "He came from Alfava Baydaf, a rather friendly planet in the Dundra System. Big planet, long days, just like Colano Delta, where he would take the children to play -- of course, when he would take the children to play for an hour there, it ended up being twenty-five here."
Sam leans back, and looks at the blue phone box. "And you're taking him in...?"
"My TARDIS," the Doctor says, fondly.
Sam continues to look at it for a minute, then says, "I'm guessing it's bigger on the inside?"
The Doctor beams at him.
And then Johnny approaches, making plopping noises with each step, looking oddly cowed. "Alright, Doctor, I'm ready."
Sam gives the Doctor a nod, and steps back.
The kids yell out their goodbyes as the Doctor and Johnny enter the TARDIS, waving as the door snaps shut and the TARDIS starts dematerializing.
After the whirring sound of the TARDIS dies down, Sam can hear the frantic yelling of parents growing close. He grabs his bag and darts between two buildings, leaving as soon as he hears the first cries of reunion.
+ + +
He watches as Dean helps himself to a second helping of mashed potatoes. It reminds him of Thanksgiving all those years ago, him trying to belong to a family though he knew he didn’t. Dean sticks out now just as much as Sam did then, only while Sam spent all those years trying to tell himself he wanted to be “normal” when in his heart he didn’t, Dean must have been doing the opposite.
Dean doesn’t look happy, Sam knows it will be a while before he does, and even longer until he actually will be happy, but Sam knows he’ll get there.
And Sam can’t interrupt that, not with a piece of cobbler.
Above him, the light sparks out, and Sam turns to the side expecting… Castiel, or Lucifer, or Azazel, or a demon, or...
Instead, down the street, he watches the TARDIS materialize.
Sam takes one last look at Dean, with his new family, and heads down the street. When he knocks, the door creaks open. He pushes it a bit more open, and steps into the...
...room that is definitely larger on the inside than it is on the outside. He takes a minute to gaze around -- the walls have a soft orange glow, what looks like lights studded into them, and in the center there's a console, softly glowing blue-teal, and there are three steps up to the console, and stairs going up off the platform, and stairs going down from the platform, and at the central console, watching him with a considering look, is the Doctor.
Sam walks up the three steps to the console, and up to him. "You forgot this," he says, gesturing with the go-box.
"I did," the Doctor says, taking the go-box from him, setting it down, then wedging it so it wouldn't slide down the sloping sides.
“So.” Sam stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking up at the console. “Time and space?”
The Doctor grins at him, and something loosens in Sam’s chest at the sight. "All of time and space," he corrects. The contemplative look returns as he asks, "Where do you want to go?"
Want. Sam can't remember the last time he wanted something that wasn't along the lines of wanting to break his brother's crossroads deal, or to overcome his demon blood addiction, or to stop the apocalypse; that he wanted something for himself.
And now he has all of time and space.
Where does he want to go?
“Anywhere,” Sam replies. "Everywhere."
The Doctor is positively beaming. “Good answer.”
And then he pulls down a lever, and the machine starts whirring, and then they’re off.
+ + +
This season on Doctor Who: New Amsterdam! Charlie Chaplin! Ice giants! Croatoan! Sunrise, Wyoming! Dr. River Song! Renewed pining over Jess! Blackberry-peach cobbler! And much more! (including a nice evening where the Doctor and Sam go out to dinner and it is entirely pleasant and nobody dies, though that's not part of the 'official' run.)
Fandoms: Supernatural-Doctor Who
Characters: Sam Winchester, the Doctor, Lisa Braeden
Rating: PG13
Contains: nothing you wouldn't see on either show.
Word Count: 4,815
Summary: Somehow out of the Cage but not wanting to crash Dean's apple-pie life, Sam waits around Cicero, long enough to stumble into a hunt and across a mad man in a box.
Notes: For de_nugis, for the Fall Fandom Free-For-All, even though it missed the official deadline by six months. (Whoops.) Takes place post-series five for both shows, and will ignore any additional canon from either series six. I have plans to make this into its own series, but it stands on its own at the present.
Sam is in a coffee shop, immersed in reading up on immortality, when he hears someone say his name. It's a female voice, familiar, and he looks up to see Lisa Braeden standing to the side of his table.
"Lisa," he says, dumbly. He's in Cicero, Indiana, but it's not a small town; he honestly didn't expect to see her. Not so soon, at least.
She smiles, tentatively. "I thought it was you. How are you doing?"
"Fine," Sam says, still a bit dumbstruck. "How are you?"
"I'm fine. And Dean's fine," she adds, before Sam can even ask. "He misses his younger brother, though. You should stop by, sometime."
"How do you know I'm not a shifter, or a ghoul, or a demon?" he asks. Then, realizing what he said, he amends, "I'm not, but--"
"If you were a demon, or a shifter, or a ghoul, intent on getting close to Dean and killing him, you would have immediately sought him out. You didn't, so I'm guessing you're not."
Sam thinks it over for a moment, then says, "Point."
Lisa lifts her head up, towards the baristas, and says, "Hold on one moment." It takes her two, but then she's back, a to-go cup cradled in her hands. All hesitance gone, she sits down across from him. "So how long have you been topside?"
"Uh..." Sam says, before slowly closing his laptop. "About a week, now."
She raises an eyebrow. "Dean only got here a week ago."
Sam shrugs. "I know. I... I saw you all, the first night. And I wanted to go to Dean, but... he looked happy."
It's Lisa's turn to give a small laugh. "I'm happy," she says. "And Ben is happy. Dean is not unhappy, but I think that's the closest to happy he's ever going to get."
"Yeah..." Sam says, about to say something more, but he gets the feeling he doesn't need to expand on that, not with Lisa. "And you're okay with that?"
She shrugs. "I'd like to be able to make him happy, but after all he's been through..." She shrugs again. "I don't think it's in him to be happy, or that he'll allow himself to be happy, not for a while, but... but nothing, really. It is what it is, I can't change it, I can only be there for him."
Sam nods. He knew there was a reason he liked her.
"So what are your plans, then? If you're not planning on talking to Dean, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know," Sam admits, honestly. "A part of me was thinking about going back to school, but--"
"After stopping the apocalypse, being a lawyer doesn't hold the same appeal?" she offers.
"I was going to say that I have a rap sheet with the FBI, and I don't think Stanford will let me back in, but that too," Sam says, wryly.
Lisa smiles at him, and takes a long sip of her drink. "If you're not in a hurry to leave, though..."
Sam stares at her, waits for her to continue.
She sets down her cup on the table, then reaches into her purse. She pulls out a newspaper clipping, and slides it across to Sam. "I saw this article a few weeks ago, and a few similar ones in the couple of days since. I don't want Dean going back to hunting, he never seems happy when he's hunting, but I figured someone needed to look into it. I decided I'd give it another day before passing it do Dean, but now it won't look like I'll need to."
Sam picks up the article, scans through it. "That's..." he starts, staring at the clipping. He looks up at her. "Dean didn't notice a newspaper with an article clipped out of it?"
"I told him Ben was using it for class," Lisa says.
Sam laughs, then turns back to the article.
"Dean's been scouring the papers, looking to make sure the world isn't still ending, that it doesn't secretly need him."
"He's just itching to throw himself back on a blade," Sam mumbles. He looks up at her. "Thanks," he says, "for keeping him from it."
"I don't know if I can, but I'll try." She takes another sip of her drink, then looks at her watch. "I need to be heading off, but..." she scribbles something down on a napkin, and slides it to him. "Call me if you need anything."
"Thanks," Sam says, taking the napkin, but knowing he won't call. "I'll look into it."
"Thanks," she replies. "And before you leave town, really, give me another call, okay?"
He nods, though again, he knows he won't. "Sure thing."
She gets up, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and grabbing her drink. "And take care of yourself, alright, Sam?" she says.
"Yeah," Sam says, nodding, smiling. "You too."
And then she's walking out of the door, and out onto the sidewalk, and out of sight.
+ + +
Children are going missing in Westfield. They're going missing, and returning a day later, completely unharmed, and unaware that a day had been lost. Although the first article -- from five months ago -- had the kids claiming to have spent the time with an imaginary friend on a different world, none of the articles have mentioned anything about that since.
It's a twenty minute drive southwest to Westfield, in a car that he acquired through less than legal means.
He parks at the library, heads in to print off a map of the town, and jots down notes on it -- marks the parks where children went missing, how many of them there were, the dates they were gone. There's no pattern that emerges; the children go missing from any time from ten in the morning to six in the evening. Sometimes it's two children, sometimes seven, or any number in between. Ages five to eleven, both boys and girls. He goes to all the parks, but other than the fact they're parks, there's no real similarities between them.
And when he returns to the library, and starts looking into the histories of the parks, researching until the library closes, there continues to be no similarities between any of them.
There's nothing more he can do on the case for now, so he heads back to Cicero, orders a veggie supreme pizza (and relishes not having to get half meat lover's), and crashes in his motel room. He flips on the TV, the mindless crime procedural (with douchebags who wear sunglasses at night) providing background noise as he continues his research on why he was brought back from the Cage.
+ + +
The next morning, against his better judgement, Sam plugs Lisa's number into his phone, and dials. It rings, and rings, and rings, and goes to voicemail. Sam doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if Dean will ever listen to it for whatever reason, so he just hangs up a few scant moments after being prompted to leave a message. He waits a minute, and tries calling again, but this time it goes straight to voicemail, which is a sign that Lisa has either turned her phone off, or denied his call, and either way, Sam gets the message. Not now.
He's in a diner, halfway through his short stack, when his cell rings.
"Hey," he says, picking it up on his second ring. "Sorry, I realized I may have woken you up."
"Yeah," she says, distractedly, after a few moments.
"Or was it a bad time?"
"Bad time," she says, not bothering to try and lie.
There's something more to her tone, though, and Sam cautiously asks, "Was it something with Dean?"
"Yeah, he's..." she trails off, and he can hear her make a frustrated noise through her nose. "He just hasn't been sleeping well, that's all. Nothing more. But it's okay, we're going to be okay. What's up, what do you need?"
It takes Sam a considerable amount of self-control not to press her about Dean. Instead he asks, "How well do you know Westfield?"
"I have a few clients who live there, and Ben has a few friends there as well. Why?"
"You have a few minutes to get a cup of coffee?"
+ + +
"I have to admit," Lisa says, as she sits across from him, "I wasn't really expecting you to call."
"Neither was I."
She gives him a small smile, and asks, "What can I help you with?"
Sam slides the map of Westfield over to her. "Do you see any pattern in this?"
"Nope," she replies, almost immediately, but she keeps looking at the map. A minute later, she says, "But..." She turns the map so it faces Sam, and points at a spot on a map. "There's a small park here -- and I'm pretty sure a kid went disappearing here, a month back."
Sam shuffles through his sheaf of notes.
"Because if it's the same thing, then..." Lisa prompts.
"Then it makes a circle," Sam concludes, circling the park and penciling in the details. "But what's in the middle of it?"
"An elementary school. It's a smaller school, but it has a pretty big field and playground."
Sam frowns at it. "I'm guessing it's a pretty popular?"
"One of Ben's friends had her party there," Lisa confirms, taking a sip of her drink.
"I hate to ask this," Sam says, lowering his voice, "but did anything tragic ever happen there?"
Lisa looks surprised, but just shakes her head. "Not that I know of."
Sam hums in reply, and keeps going through his notes.
"You have any idea what you're dealing with?"
"Not in the slightest," Sam says. It doesn't bother him, though. He's worked with less.
+ + +
It's nearly one o'clock, when Sam arrives at the park, and it's almost eerily silent. There are four children in the sandbox, all too young to be in school, and three women sitting on a bench nearby, but other than that, the park is empty.
"Excuse me?" he says, as he approaches the women.
They all turn to look at him at exactly the same moment, and for a moment he wonders if they're witches. He hopes not -- Dean may have been the one with a personal vendetta against them, but that doesn't mean that Sam is all that fond of them.
He flashes his badge at them. "Hello, I'm Agent Page, with the FBI. I was wondering if any of you have seen anything strange lately?"
"Strange?" one of the women repeats. She's got dark hair and dark eyes, but despite her slightly mocking tone, she's got a soft look to her. "You mean like the children that go missing and then show up the next day?"
Sam tucks his badge back into his pocket and nods. "Strange like that, yeah."
"Well then, there have been children that have been going missing that have shown up the next day," she says, a small smile on her lips.
"Is the FBI looking into it?" another woman asks, a redhead this time.
Sam nods. "We're not making our presence here public, but a few of us have been sent to look into the disappearances."
"Well, that's a relief," the redhead continues.
"It'll only a relief if they find the culprit," the other woman says, her hair not as dark as the other's, and in a shorter cut.
"We're trying, ma'am," Sam replies. "And it'd be a great help if any of you knew or saw anything."
The first woman frowns. "Why? None of the disappearances have happened here."
"Yes, but we're just trying to cover all the bases. Have you seen anything here, or at any other park, anything at all?"
"Missy has seen something," the second dark haired woman says, teasing.
The redhead ducks her head. "Kate," she says, embarrassed.
Sam turns towards her, and pulls out a notepad. "What did you see?"
"It's nothing," Missy insists.
"Miss, I trust human intuition. If your friend says you say something, even as a joke, I don't see what the harm of following it up is."
Missy still looks sheepish, but she explains, "I started babysitting for the Phillips last week, just before the time when another child went missing -- Joseph, their kid, is old enough to play by himself, but.. you know how it is. Now, they asked that I take him here, since it's outside all the disappearance business, yeah? Well, day after the fifth kid goes missing, I'm here, with Joey, and he's playing on the monkey bars, and I watch as this guy circles around the park."
"And what did this guy look like?"
"About as tall as you, much skinnier, maybe a younger than you, dressed like some old English professor. And he was holding this... thing, with little propellers that were whirling about, and as he passed me, I heard him muttering about read-outs..."
Sam nods in encouragement.
"And it was a bit weird, so the next day I came here a bit later, and he was here too, making another lap, and... it was just strange."
Kate is grinning, and Sam is trying to figure out how to best respond, when the other woman says, "Missy?"
"Yeah?"
"This weirdo of yours... was he cute?"
Missy flushes. "A bit, yeah. Why?" They all turn to follow the other woman's eye line, and Missy hisses, "That's him!"
Sam watches as a man -- looking maybe a year younger than him, much skinnier, and about the same height, dressed as an English professor or similar -- starts walking around the park.
"Thank you very much for your help," Sam says, and smiles at them. "If I need anything else, I'll be sure to come back." And then he starts over towards the strange man.
As he approaches, he can hear a faint 'strange, very strange' being muttered by the man, who is holding an odd looking contraption -- which on closer examination looks suspiciously like an EMF reader.
"Excuse me, sir," Sam says, stepping into his path.
The man looks up, and a brilliant smile crosses his face. "Hello."
Sam flashes his badge. "Agent Samuel Page, FBI."
The man pulls a leather wallet out of his inside coat pocket, and flashes its contents at Sam. "Captain Troy Handsome. Health Department."
The contents of the badge are completely blank. Sam frowns as the man tucks it back away. "Sorry, can I see that again?"
There's a curious look on the man's face as he pulls it out and holds it back up.
The blank page from a moment ago now looks like the stickers available at group meetings, and cheerfully reads: Hello! My name is: The Doctor. Sam hesitates a moment, glancing between the man and the page, then says, "It says your name is the Doctor."
The man -- the Doctor -- looks down at it. "Does it?" he asks, before downright beaming at Sam. "Samuel, you said?"
"Sam," he corrects.
"Well, Sam, are you looking into the disappearing children as well?"
Aware that the three women are probably watching them, and thinking this would best be taken out of the public, since Sam honestly isn't quite sure what is going on -- this guy isn't a hunter, can't be a hunter -- he asks, "Would you mind coming with me?"
+ + +
And that is how Sam winds up at a diner five minutes later. Thankfully there had been a place nearby that Sam had taken notice of on his way over; it was a nice, quiet diner, of a local chain, where it teetered on the edge of being close-knit and corporate.
Sam had lead him towards the back, at a booth where he could keep an eye on all the exits -- the main entrance, an exit to his side near the kitchens, and a door on the far wall for emergencies only.
And a strange man called the Doctor sitting in front of him. A strange man called the Doctor who is currently poking around in the back of the contraption with a fork.
"So..." Sam starts, after the waitress returns with their coffees. He has no idea what to ask, so finally he settles on, "You a hunter?" even though he's mostly sure he's not.
The Doctor looks up from what he's doing, and repeats, "Hunter?"
"Yeah," Sam replies.
"No," the Doctor replies. "Could you hand me a sugar packet?"
Sam does. "So why are you looking into this?"
The Doctor pours the contents of the sugar packet into the machine. "Because this dinged, and it always dings when there's stuff. A brilliant invention, made it a bit ago, back in the late sixties, I always have loved stuff."
It's an unfair judgement to make, Sam knows, but he is pretty sure that this guy is completely mad. Aside from the dated outfit and dinging contraption and general crazed air about him, there was no way he could have been around in the sixties. Unless he had an angel zapping him back in time, but Sam had a feeling he would know if that were the case. After a moment, he recomposes himself and continues, "So it dings near stuff and so you're hunting this monster too?"
"Alien," the Doctor corrects. "Not a monster, an alien."
Sam... isn't nearly as surprised as he thinks he should be.
Their waitress returns, looks between them, and realizing Sam is probably the one to ask about such matters, asks if either of them would like anything.
Sam had gotten a salad wrap on his way down to Westfield, and instead asks about their selection of pies. Apparently their cook has won a local fair for her famous blackberry-peach cobbler, and Sam orders two pieces. The waitress smiles, jots it down, and heads off.
Once she's gone, Sam is abruptly aware he's ordered for the Doctor, and would feel awkward about it, if the Doctor hadn't added his spoon into the mix of whatever he was doing. "So," Sam says, again. "Aliens."
"Yes," the Doctor replies, then rattles off some collection of syllables that Sam is guessing is the species name of the monster. Alien. Thing.
"And it's kidnapping children and returning them a day and an hour later."
The Doctor looks up at that. "You caught that. Most blokes are just saying the kids return the next day, but you--" the Doctor points his spoon at Sam "--you know about that hour."
Sam shrugs. "It was in the papers."
"Paper. Only one paper mentioned it, and it only mentioned it once."
Sam shrugs again. "Doesn't mean it wasn't important."
"The article said the children spent the time with their imaginary friend."
"And?"
"All the local police have written it off as a shared hallucination. Delusion. It's the normal explanation."
Sam huffs a small laugh. "I'm not used to normal explanations, Doctor."
The Doctor looks at him consideringly. "No," he says, expression odd. "I'd imagine you're not."
The waitress comes then, and sets down two plates of cobblers, but just as she does, the Doctor’s contraption dings, and then he’s up and out of the booth without another word.
Sam watches him go, flabbergasted.
“Was he...?” the waitress starts, at her spot to Sam’s side. She bites her lip, nervously, before concluding, “...alright?”
Sam doesn’t know. Instead, he smoothly says, “It’s federal business, ma’am.”
The waitress stares at him for a few moments.
Not knowing what else to do, Sam takes a bite of the cobbler. It is pretty damn good.
"Anything else?" the waitress asks, looking at him expectantly.
Sam swallows and asks, "Can I get this second piece to go?"
+ + +
He arrives at his motel some fifteen minutes later, and flops down on his bed. He had gotten a single room, double beds, out of habit more than anything else; just like he had for the months when he and Dean had split up, Sam "leaving" hunting while Dean employed Cas. Sam had told himself he had been happy, but it wasn't until joining back up with Dean did he realize how lonely he had been.
Likewise, he had been fine on this hunt, until the Doctor came and Sam realizes how nice it had been to just have someone by his side.
There's not much he can do about it now -- Sam's instincts have usually been spot on, have told him that Jess was special, that he should return to hunting with Dean, that in the end he could use his powers for good. Now it's telling him that he and the Doctor will cross paths again, and there's nothing he can worry about now.
Huh. Nothing to worry about. Sam can't remember the last time that had happened.
+ + +
He awakes to a loud ringing. Instantly he's sitting up, and groping around. It's darker than he expected -- the red lights of the clock informs him it's 6:01, and then Sam realizes his phone is ringing, and he's about to pick it up after its fifth ring, but suddenly the call drops. The number isn't one he knows, and he stares at it for a moment before blinking the remaining sleep out of his eyes.
Then he realizes it's 6:01. The timeline, if it holds, will have a few children disappearing.
Instantly he's on his feet, deftly stripping off his suit and back into his normal jeans, shirt and flannel overshirt. He grabs his phone, giving one more glance at the number, then he grabs his keys and heads out.
+ + +
It's a pleasant late-May weeknight, and there's a respectable amount of people out. Families chatting, children playing, and Sam is a lone guy with a suspicious looking bag full of suspicious things like guns and ammo. He's thankful that he at least looks young and mostly not suspicious himself, otherwise this might be a bit more difficult.
He settles down at the edge of the field, pulling a worn paperback out of his bag. He takes a quick headcount of the field (ten men, thirteen women, twenty-three children) and then angles himself enough so he can keep an eye on most things, but doesn't look it.
Five minutes pass, and then there are twenty children on the field.
Another five minutes, and then there are seventeen.
Sam can hear a mother calling for her son. The children are heading towards the cluster of buildings that make up the school, and Sam picks up his bag and heads down the sidewalk, close enough to keep an eye on the last child, but far enough away that if anybody's watching, it wouldn't look like he was following the child.
He circles around the cluster of buildings, approaching from the opposite side.
The children have all gathered in a small courtyard, and are all giggling and talking in excited, hushed tones.
And then there's an odd plopping noise, and the giggles quiet and then return ten-fold, and Sam glances to see the alien that the Doctor mentioned earlier.
And stares.
He doesn't know what he was expecting -- something like a mix between ET and a Klingon -- but it's just a purple humanoid-looking alien. With tentacles. And eyestalks.
"Alright," it announces, sounding rather happy. "Who wants to go play?"
The children chorus with chants of "oh me!" and Sam sets down his bag and enters the courtyard, clearing his throat.
The alien looks up at him, and the children turn and follow suit.
"Hey," Sam says, raising his hands in a placating fashion. "Where are all your parents? Mike, I think your mom was calling you."
"It's alright," the alien says, lifting its tentacles up, mirroring Sam.
"It's alright," a little boy -- Charlie, who had been gone missing before -- repeats. "Johnny is our friend! He doesn't hurt us! We just play tag and Red Rover and--"
He's interrupted by a loud whirring noise.
Sam turns to see a blue phone box fade in and out of view at the corner of the clearing. After a moment, the phone box solidifies, the door opens, and the Doctor steps out.
Sam really isn't as surprised as he think he should be.
"Ah, Sam, good to see you again," the Doctor says.
"Doctor," Sam greets.
The alien -- Johnny -- whirls around at that, eyestalks swaying. "You're the Doctor?" he asks, and it almost sounds like he's horrified.
The Doctor nods. "Yes, and you're quite a far way from home."
"My home is lost," Johnny says. "It fell through a crack."
"I know," the Doctor replies somberly. "But a few others made it out okay, have started their own settlement on Colano Delta. Nearby star system, similar atmosphere. There's already a growing population there, you can be among your own species again, you don't have to take these children."
The children start protesting at that, swarming in around Johnny. He pats them all on the head, saying his goodbyes.
Sam moves over so he's standing by the Doctor.
"So they just... played?" Sam asks.
The Doctor nods. "He came from Alfava Baydaf, a rather friendly planet in the Dundra System. Big planet, long days, just like Colano Delta, where he would take the children to play -- of course, when he would take the children to play for an hour there, it ended up being twenty-five here."
Sam leans back, and looks at the blue phone box. "And you're taking him in...?"
"My TARDIS," the Doctor says, fondly.
Sam continues to look at it for a minute, then says, "I'm guessing it's bigger on the inside?"
The Doctor beams at him.
And then Johnny approaches, making plopping noises with each step, looking oddly cowed. "Alright, Doctor, I'm ready."
Sam gives the Doctor a nod, and steps back.
The kids yell out their goodbyes as the Doctor and Johnny enter the TARDIS, waving as the door snaps shut and the TARDIS starts dematerializing.
After the whirring sound of the TARDIS dies down, Sam can hear the frantic yelling of parents growing close. He grabs his bag and darts between two buildings, leaving as soon as he hears the first cries of reunion.
+ + +
He watches as Dean helps himself to a second helping of mashed potatoes. It reminds him of Thanksgiving all those years ago, him trying to belong to a family though he knew he didn’t. Dean sticks out now just as much as Sam did then, only while Sam spent all those years trying to tell himself he wanted to be “normal” when in his heart he didn’t, Dean must have been doing the opposite.
Dean doesn’t look happy, Sam knows it will be a while before he does, and even longer until he actually will be happy, but Sam knows he’ll get there.
And Sam can’t interrupt that, not with a piece of cobbler.
Above him, the light sparks out, and Sam turns to the side expecting… Castiel, or Lucifer, or Azazel, or a demon, or...
Instead, down the street, he watches the TARDIS materialize.
Sam takes one last look at Dean, with his new family, and heads down the street. When he knocks, the door creaks open. He pushes it a bit more open, and steps into the...
...room that is definitely larger on the inside than it is on the outside. He takes a minute to gaze around -- the walls have a soft orange glow, what looks like lights studded into them, and in the center there's a console, softly glowing blue-teal, and there are three steps up to the console, and stairs going up off the platform, and stairs going down from the platform, and at the central console, watching him with a considering look, is the Doctor.
Sam walks up the three steps to the console, and up to him. "You forgot this," he says, gesturing with the go-box.
"I did," the Doctor says, taking the go-box from him, setting it down, then wedging it so it wouldn't slide down the sloping sides.
“So.” Sam stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking up at the console. “Time and space?”
The Doctor grins at him, and something loosens in Sam’s chest at the sight. "All of time and space," he corrects. The contemplative look returns as he asks, "Where do you want to go?"
Want. Sam can't remember the last time he wanted something that wasn't along the lines of wanting to break his brother's crossroads deal, or to overcome his demon blood addiction, or to stop the apocalypse; that he wanted something for himself.
And now he has all of time and space.
Where does he want to go?
“Anywhere,” Sam replies. "Everywhere."
The Doctor is positively beaming. “Good answer.”
And then he pulls down a lever, and the machine starts whirring, and then they’re off.
+ + +
This season on Doctor Who: New Amsterdam! Charlie Chaplin! Ice giants! Croatoan! Sunrise, Wyoming! Dr. River Song! Renewed pining over Jess! Blackberry-peach cobbler! And much more! (including a nice evening where the Doctor and Sam go out to dinner and it is entirely pleasant and nobody dies, though that's not part of the 'official' run.)