SPN/DW: On Our Own Terms 2/4

[jennytork]

CHAPTER TWO

As they disembarked the plane, Sam was a little startled to see that the infamous Area 51 was merely a collection of buildings and desert. It looked like any other military base that hired civilian contractors.

The Doctor leaned in and whispered, "Which of these duffels have weapons in them and what are they?"

"Both," Sam whispered back. "All knives."

The Doctor nodded and pulled him out of the line waiting to be checked in and admitted to the base. "Put them in one and give it to me."

Crouching behind him, Sam did as he was told and handed the Doctor one of the standard-issue military-style duffels. He shouldered it as Sam shouldered the other and said, "Stick close to me and whatever you do, agree with me. At least until we're inside."

Sam nodded. He fell into step behind the Doctor and they approached the guards with the rest of their line.

As they walked up, one of the guards smiled. "Hello, Doctor Smith! Back for another day at the salt mines?"

"My last day this cycle, hopefully," the Doctor shared a laugh with the guard.

The guard nodded toward the duffel. "Sorry, but you know the rules."

"I do, indeed." He set it on the table and opened it. "You should know, I picked up a few more trinkets for my knife collection while I was in Vegas."

"Mmm." The guard lifted Sam's sickle out and raised an eyebrow. "You are dulling this once you get to your quarters, aren't you?"

The Doctor blinked, then affected an offended expression."Of course I am!" he huffed. "I know the rules! I'll dull them all."

The guard nodded and put the sickle back in. "When are you gonna show us this infamous collection, huh?"

"When I run out of display places," the Doctor quipped and they shared a laugh. As he reclaimed the duffel, he suddenly gestured to Sam. "Oh, this is my new assistant. Show David here your credentials, Sam."

He handed the guard the billfold that the Doctor had given him, and David's eyebrows raised and he started to laugh. "Smith - and Wesson? Universe definitely has a sense of humour." He closed the billfold and handed it back to Sam. "Regulations, kid. Need to check your bag."

"Yes, sir," Sam said, setting it on the table. He smiled his full, dimpled grin at David. "Nothing as exotic in there as Doctor Smith's knife collection, though."

The Doctor shrugged. "I've been trying to get him interested, but kids today...."

David re-zipped Sam's duffel, snorting a soft laugh. "I can relate. Okay, Technician Wesson. Stay with Doctor Smith and you shouldn't have any problems."

Sam nodded, sliding the duffel back onto his shoulder. "Thank you, sir. I will. Have a good day."

"You, too, Technician." David smiled and then turned to the next in his long line of arrivals. "Good afternoon, ma'am. May I see your credentials?"

Sam leaned into the Doctor as they walked down the guard-lined hallways. "I swear," he whispered, "I was half-expecting to hear 'These are not the droids you're looking for'!"

The Doctor grinned over his shoulder at Sam. He nodded toward the end of the hall. "We turn left here and I have a code to punch in. Then we'll get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

"For now? Cardiff, Wales. Let my ship recharge while I talk to you -in a more private setting."

Sam frowned. "Wales? Uh, Doctor - I don't have a passport."

"That's okay. You won't need one." He thoroughly enjoyed the expression on Sam's face as they made the turn.

The Doctor punched in a code and the door slid open with a sound that reminded Sam of the turbolift door sound effect from the old Star Trek show Dean was obsessed with. He really had no idea what he had been expecting. Maybe a saucer shaped ship with landing gear. Maybe a huge sphere. Maybe a pyramid or something shaped like a cigar.

Somehow, seeing a seven and a half foot tall bright blue wooden box that proclaimed itself to be a "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX" was a bit of a letdown. "Where's your ship?"

"Right here," the Doctor said, patting the wooden door affectionately. "Eh, old girl? Patiently waiting. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Teleported halfway across the bloody country." He produced a key and opened one of the doors. "After you, Sam."

Sam walked inside, finding himself taking step - after step - after step..... He froze, his eyes huge as the duffel hit the ground and his jaw slowly lowered. He turned in a slow, stunned circle - barely registering that the Doctor had put his other duffel down beside the one he dropped and had closed the door. ".....what the hell...."

The Doctor moved to stand beside a hexagonal control column that seemed at once out of place and fully integrated into the organic coral look of the huge room. "Sam Winchester," he proclaimed, grinning broadly as he spread his arms. "Welcome to the TARDIS!"

"Wow," Sam said, turning in another circle. "This.... This is amazing! I bet you get 'Wow, it's bigger on the inside than the outside' from everyone who you let in, don't you?"

The Doctor blinked and then smiled. "And you have the capacity to surprise me yet again. You're right, I get it all the time. Can you hazard a guess as to why?"

Sam thought for a moment. "I take it no spellwork is involved - or no demon deals?"

"No spellwork or deals involved."

Sam nodded for a moment, then looked at the console. "Alien technology?"

"Very good! TARDIS is an acronym for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space."

"Ah!" Sam gasped, grinning. "Relative dimensions - the outside is relatively smaller than the inside, and the doorway is the portal between the two dimensions!"

"Oooh, a smart one. I knew there was a reason I liked you." He flipped a few switches, visually checked that the door was closed, and then said, "All right, then, here we go!" He threw a lever downward.

The centre column began to move up and down as a strange noise began to rumble through the room. The column's lights blinked rhythmically as the sound grew louder.

Sam frowned. "Your ship has asthma?"

"No, she--what?" The Doctor glared at him over the console. "No, she does not have asthma!"

"Sounds like it. Maybe you should give her a breathing treatment." Sam grinned at the expression the Doctor sent his way, then he looked up as the sound faded. "We've landed?"

"We've landed," the Doctor confirmed. He looked at the controls and grinned. "Cardiff, Wales - right on top of the temporal rift!" He patted the console. "Get you all fueled up, girl. Good as new in no time."

Watching the Doctor coo over the ship, Sam was reminded very strongly of his brother and his seemingly unnatural obsession with the Impala. Suddenly it didn't seem so unnatural. It just seemed - if not normal, at least more understandable. The Doctor seemed so much more human than he'd appeared to Sam once he'd revealed the double hearts. "Do you two want to be alone?" he teased.

The Doctor's head snapped up. "What? No, it's okay. She just needs a little....soothing...every now and again. It's like--"

"It's like a temperamental classic car," Sam said with complete understanding. "A little TLC and a lot of maintenance, and she'll not steer you wrong."

Eyes wide, the Doctor beamed. "You know machinery?"

"I have an older brother and father who do. I know libraries. They know machines." He wondered if he sounded as lonely and bitter as he felt, revealing just one more way Sam was an outsider in his own family.

The Doctor came around the console and lay a hand on his shoulder. "Books are important," he said sincerely. "Very important. Even way in the future when things are digitalised, there will still be books to hold and pages to turn. There's something visceral about them."

Sam smiled at him. "Thanks."

"I'm serious," the Doctor said. "Come with me. I'd like to give you a medical scan."

"Why?" Sam said, even as his feet propelled him to walk beside the alien.

"Because of some things that are tied to that potential future your father was told about and I saw."

Sam's eyes widened. "What things?"

"Well," the Doctor began, but before he could go further, Sam interrupted him.

"Also, how do you know all of this? How do you know so precisely what my father knows?"

The Doctor paused outside a doorway and turned to Sam, grinning broadly. "Your father needs to learn how to shield his thoughts. He does okay with the psychics and mind-reading entities of your world, but he and your brother are wide open to extra-terrestrial psionics."

Sam nodded, but then frowned deeply. "Wait.... I know you saw Dean when he was seeing me off - but you're acting like you've met my father!"

"I have." Then he frowned slightly. "Well... not really met the man. Not yet. But close enough to him that his thoughts and emotions were fairly bellowing at me."

"When?" Sam asked in a choked voice, though he had the sinking feeling that he already knew what the answer was going to be.

He was right. "At the bus stop. He followed you. Dean had no idea," the Doctor added truthfully, answering the question still only half-formed in Sam's mind.

"Now you're reading my mind?" Sam snarled out. Part of him was surprised he could still talk, choked as he was with visceral rage directed at his father.

"I'm not actively trying to," the Doctor reassured him. "But your emotions are running so high right now that you're broadcasting. Just like you were in the bus."

Sam nodded slowly. "So, that's why you sat beside me."

"At first, yeah." The Doctor shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a brain that broadcasts such strong emotion. Finding out who you are - that was icing on the cake."

"Because of these - things - my father was told about."

"That's right. And if I'm right - and I usually am - we can clear it up. But I need you to allow a medical exam, so we can both see just exactly what it is we're dealing with, here."

Sam nodded again, straightening his shoulders. "Then, let's do this."

The Doctor broke into a wide grin. "That's the spirit!" He opened the door to reveal a futuristic looking infirmary. "And here we are."

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay.... so what do I have to do?"

The Doctor nodded at a table with a hood over it. "Take off your shoes and jacket and lay down. The scanners will do the rest."

With a sigh, Sam did as he was told. Machinery hummed for a few moments, and Sam closed his eyes against the faint flashes of light that accompanied the hum. When it stopped, Sam opened his eyes. "Well? Find anything?"

"Oh, yeah," the Doctor said. "We found something, all right."

Alarmed, Sam sat up, banging his head on the diagnostic hood before the Doctor could move it out of the way. "What? What did you find?"

The Doctor sat on a stool beside him. "You have a protein marker in your blood that humans aren't supposed to have."

Sam's eyes widened and he paled rapidly. "You.... You're telling me I'm not human?"

"No, no! Oh, no!" the Doctor said vehemently. "You're definitely human - there's absolutely no doubt about that!"

"Then..... Then I don't understand!"

The Doctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sam, you're human. But your body is producing a protein inside your marrow that it should not be able to produce. Almost as if you were deliberately infected with someone else's DNA. Someone not human, and someone who had very strong psionic abilities."

Sam thought for a few moments. "There was a fire on my six months birthday. Dad said we were attacked by something supernatural and that it killed Mom. Could it be that thing's DNA? Could whatever it was have infected me that night?"

"Six months.... your DNA would still be malleable at that age." The Doctor nodded. "Yes, I think that's entirely possible."

Groaning, Sam dropped his head into his hands. "No wonder Dad hates me. He thinks I'm something supernatural that's gonna--"

"All right. Stop right there."The Doctor leaned forward, brown eyes blazing. "First of all, your father does not hate you. If he did, he would have treated you like any other creature he came across long before now!"

Sam looked up at him, blinking slowly.

"Second of all," the Doctor went on. "Anybody who thinks his son is a... a creature would not have followed him to make sure he was safe! He would have killed you at the first opportunity!"

"Then..." Sam whispered softly, "then what does this thing in my blood make me?"

"Hopefully, about to be cured," the Doctor said with a grin. "If we can isolate that protein marker in your marrow, then we can strip it from you."

Sam gasped. "No more supernatural creature blood?"

"No more supernatural creature blood," the Doctor confirmed.

"What will that do to me?"

The Doctor's grin grew. "Derail this future that your father and I both saw. Free you to create your own destiny."

Sam nodded slowly. "I... I think I'd like that. What would I have to do?"

The doctor stood and curled his long fingers over Sam's shoulder. "Lay back down. I'll have the system work on isolation and extraction."

Smiling, Sam swung his long legs back onto the diagnostic bed and began to lay down. He frowned and looked behind himself, making certain he wouldn't crash into the hood like he'd done on the way up.

Chuckling, the Doctor swung it out of the way and then pulled it over his head once he was laying down. "Right, then! Here we go!"

Sam closed his eyes as the machine hummed. He wasn't aware of the exact instant he slid into sleep, but he wasn't awake very long.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam woke to gentle fingers carding through his hair. He opened his eyes to the Doctor's smiling face. "....hey," he whispered.

"Hey." The Doctor patted his forehead and pushed back the diagnostic hood. "You can sit up now."

Yawning, Sam did so. "How long?"

"Were you asleep? About 24 hours. Gave me time to hop back and establish with that guard that I really do have a knife collection. He reacted like he knew about it, so I realised my bluff had a basis in reality." He winced. "Paradoxes are so much work to set up..."

Sam's eyes widened, hearing only one thing. "Twenty - holy crap! Did you give me something?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "You were just utterly exhausted."

"Yeah, well, it's been a long week." Sam winced as he looked down at his aching arm. "You've been taking blood from me."

"Yeah - an ampule every six hours. Monitoring that protein marker." He held up a syringe. "And it's time for another."

Sam grimaced, but submitted. As he held cotton to the needle mark on his arm, he asked, "So, any verdict yet?"

The Doctor hummed as he looked at some of the blood under a microscope.

"Boy, that's an articulate answer," Sam groused.

Chuckling, the Doctor looked up. "The protein marker is gone. If I had to guess, I'd say you're a natural psionic, but that unnatural, implanted taint in your blood is no more."

Sam grinned, then it faltered. "But what's to stop it from coming back? You said my marrow was making it."

"Oh, it was," the Doctor nodded. "But it's not now. The treatments didn't just cleanse your blood - it cleansed your marrow as well."

Sam's jaw dropped. "But... But that's not medically possible!"

"You're right," the Doctor said. "For Earth medicine, it isn't possible. But remember where you are? What I am?"

"I'm in a spaceship," Sam whispered. "You're an alien."

"So..."

Sam began to smile. "So you could conceivably cleanse my marrow and make it stop making the implanted protein marker."

"Exactly."

"So," Sam said slowly. "What do I owe you for this?"

"....what?" the Doctor gasped. "Owe me?"

"Yeah. What's the price tag for healing me?"

The Doctor just stared, an expression of shocked incredulity on his face before he whispered, "Hundreds of years, and nobody has ever asked what they could pay me...."

Sam crossed his arms. "Well?"

Chuckling, the Doctor shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, Sam. I'm just very, very glad I could actually do something to help that awful potential future never come to pass!" They shared a smile, and the Doctor watched Sam roll down his sleeve before he asked, "Sam - do you really want to go to college?"

Confused, Sam frowned. "Well...yeah. That's what normal kids do."

The Doctor patted the chair across from himself, and Sam sank into it. Licking his lips, the Doctor met his eyes. "I have a feeling you don't crave 'normal' - so much as you just want away from your father's smothering."

Sam swallowed hard, knowing he had been caught out.

Nodding, the Doctor went on, "Can you tell me if there's anything about the hunting lifestyle that you enjoy?"

After a long moment, Sam softly admitted, "It feels really good to know we make a difference. That we save lives."

"Suppose," the Doctor said slowly. "Just suppose I were to tell you that there was a way you could use those skills you learned and save lives - away from your father?"

"I don't understand. What ... What do you mean?"

And the Doctor began to smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One week into Life Without Sammy, and Dean and his father found themselves at each others' throats.

It had been Dean who had finally suggested that they take a break from hunting together. It was going to be a temporary measure - have a few hunts apart, then come back together as a family again.

But it turned out that apart was a lot easier than together. And so, their separate hunts continued.

About six weeks into Life Without Sammy, Dean's cell went off. He rolled over and squinted at the clock, then answered it. "Yeah?"

"Turn on the TV!" Dad ordered, voice full of tension.

"Dad," Dean sighed. "You're so far east of me it's ridiculous. Our news won't be--"

"Dean!" Dad cried. "Turn! On! The! Damned! Television! Now!"

"All right, all right! Geesh!" He rolled over and located the remote, then sat up and yawned as he pointed it at the television and hit the button.

"-replaying the events of just a few moments ago," the news announcer said, her voice trembling with emotion and tension. "Of what now appears to be a terrorist attack upon the United States--"

Dean's breath caught as he saw one jet airplane - and then another - smash full-force into the World Trade Center in New York City.

Dad was speaking again, but Dean couldn't hear anything but a buzzing roar. Until Dad barked, "--- hear me? Dean! Dean! Dean, are you there?"

"Huh?" Dean gasped. "Yeah... yeah.... you..... D-Do you think something we fight is behind--"

"I don't know, Champ. But I intend to find out. I need you to get to your brother. Make sure he's okay. Are you close?"

"I'm in Seattle. I can be there tomorrow."

"Good. I'll go see what's going on. Just - make sure he's safe, okay?"

"Will do, Dad. Be careful." Dean hung up and wiped a hand over his mouth, staring with huge eyes at the devastation on the screen for a long while.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean's phone rang a little before noon the next day. He turned off Led Zeppelin and answered it. "Yeah?"

"You at Stanford yet?"

"Bout two hours out of Palo Alto," Dean reported. "So, is it our kind of thing?"

"No," Dad sighed. "No, this was just human insanity."

Dean cursed, slamming his other hand against the steering wheel.

"Yeah. Hey...tell..." Dad cleared his throat. "Tell Sammy I'm sorry and I.... that I didn't mean it."

A warm, fond smile touched Dean's lips. "Will do. I'll call later."

"Lookin' forward to it." And Dad hung up.

Dean closed his phone, dropping it onto the seat beside him. He turned the tape back on and pushed the accelerator down a little more.

Just a few more minutes, and he'd see Sammy again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Of course, seeing Sammy would be a lot easier if Dean knew where to start. Stanford was a big campus, and there were a lot of dormitories.

So, to streamline his search, Dean went to the housing office. "Excuse me," he said to the young woman there, smiling at her. "Hi. I'm looking for my brother, and I can't remember which dorm he's in."

She returned his warm smile. "Well, sir, I'd love to help you, but I'm going to need a little bit more to go on than 'handsome rogue's brother'."

Dean laughed softly. "He's a freshman. Sam Winchester."

Never in his life had Dean been so ridiculously thankful that Dad had insisted on using their real names since a disaster with aliases when Dean had been in seventh grade. It figured - one of the very few times they had been anything other than 'Winchester', and they had nearly been separated forever.

The girl nodded and turned to her computer. Dean drummed his fingers softly on the countertop while he waited, only to freeze as a strange expression came over the girl's face.

She shifted position, and looked up at him. "I'm sorry - could you give me his name again?"

Dean frowned slightly. "It's Sam. Winchester."

"Winchester - like the rifle?" At Dean's nod, she turned back to her computer. A few seconds ticked by - and yes, that was definitely a frown on her face. She shook her head and looked up at him again. "I'm sorry, sir - he doesn't seem to be housed here."

Dean felt his frown deepen. "So... he's not in the dorms?"

"Or in our off-campus student housing," she said softly. "I tell you what." She produced a campus map. "Do you know where the Registar's office is?"

"Do I need to go there?"

She nodded, standing up. "It might help. They could tell you more than I can." She produced a highlighter and gave him verbal directions, tracing the path in yellow ink as she did so.

Nodding, Dean took the map. "Thank you - ah --"

"Stacy."

"Stacy." He managed a smile and a nod as he turned to go.

"Mister Winchester?" Dean turned back, to face Stacy's sad smile. "I hope you find your brother."

Dean nodded against the hunk of burning steel that was trying to move into his throat, and headed to find the Registrar.

Adrenaline and worry gave Dean's feet wings, and he jogged into the Registrar's office less than five minutes after he left Stacy. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for my brother - he's a freshman and housing couldn't seem to locate him."

As Dean talked, the slight boredom on the young man's face shifted to intense interest. "Really? Huh! Let's see if we can have better luck. Can I have his name?"

"Winchester. Sam Winchester." As he watched the man's fingers on the keys, Dean commented, "Bet you've been inundated by family checking up on your students, huh?"

The man chuckled softly. "Oh, yeah. Normally it tapers off by now, but it's been a tidal wave since yesterday."

"Yeah, I bet," Dean sighed. "That's why I'm here, too. Just....."

The man graced him with an understanding smile. "Yeah, I know. I did the same thing myself with my little brother, yesterday. Just had to make sure he was safe."

"Is he? Safe, I mean?"

"Oh, yeah. Safe and sound." The smile grew. "Jacob."

"Dean. Worried big brother."

"Completely understand." Jacob turned back to the computer, and the smile vanished. "Huh."

Dean felt ice slide down his spine. "I don't like the sound of that."

"You're gonna like the reason for that sound even less."

"You gonna keep me in suspense over here, or what?" Dean asked, a little gruffer than he intended.

Jacob looked up at him. His face was grim. "Dean, there is no Sam Winchester registered as a student here. At all."

"What?" Dean yelped. Jacob turned the monitor around for him to see, and he felt his jaw slam open as the directory went from WILDER to WINDOM. "But...." he gasped, staring at the screen. "But....he-he got a full ride... I ... I put him on the bus myself..."

Jacob's eyes were sympathetic. "But it looks like he never arrived. Hold on, let me see...." He turned the monitor back around and clicked a few more keys. "Samuel Francis Winchester, born May 2, 1983 in Lawrence, Kansas?"

"Yes!" Dean gasped. "Yeah, that's him! You located him?"

"I located his application. Yeah, he was offered a free ride. His application was processed and he was assigned a room in Kimball Hall. His first semester's schedule is in place - full course load. Everything is in order - except that he didn't arrive on August 3 like he was scheduled to." Jacob looked back up at Dean and - wordlessly - turned the monitor about again so that Dean could read it for himself.

Dean read it and slowly sank into one of the chairs beside the desk. Seconds later, Jacob sat beside him and pressed a cold bottle of water into Dean's hands.

"Thanks," Dean sighed, opening it and drinking deeply as he fought to get his whirling thoughts under control.

"I'm sorry, man," Jacob said softly. "I wish I could do more."

Dean nodded, hearing the genuine sincerity in the words. "Thanks," he repeated. "You... You've helped, believe it or not." He took a deep breath. "At least I've got an idea of where to start looking."

Jacob nodded. "Want me to call the cops?"

"No," Dean smiled at him, but it didn't reach his eyes. "No, my dad and I work in law enforcement."

"Cool," Jacob returned the smile, and it didn't reach his eyes either. "If there's anything I can do...."

"I'll let you know," Dean stood up with a sigh, suddenly feeling many years older than his twenty-three. He held out his hand as Jacob stood. "Thanks again, dude."

Jacob shook it. "At least now you know, huh?"

Dean sighed as he lowered his hand. "Yeah - at least now I know." With that statement and a sad smile, Dean left the Registrar's office.

As he jogged down the stairs and strode toward the Impala, Dean clawed his phone from his jeans pocket and dialed a number.

"It's Sam. You know what to do."

The beep sounded, and Dean didn't even try to keep the tension out of his voice. "Really, Sammy? You didn't even show up? Where the hell are you? Contact me! Hell, contact Dad! Just... Just let us know where you are and that you're okay!"

Hanging up, Dean dialed another number.

"Yeah, I'm busy. Leave one."

Dean groaned. "S.O.S. Call me ASAP." He closed the phone and got into the Impala.

Two hours past Palo Alto vanishing out of the rear window, Smoke on the Water erupted from the seat next to Dean. He picked up the phone and checked who was calling.

Flipping the phone open, he said with no preamble: "Dad, we've got a situation."

On to part three