Fic: Spn/DrWho crossover - Enter the Doctor - (2/?)
Title: Enter the Doctor - Part 2
Author: ravengrimm
Pairing/Characters: Castiel/Dean, Sam, Ten
Genre: Crossover - Supernatural/Doctor who, Pre-slash, and a little crack
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1966
Warnings: None
Spoiler: Spn - S4, DrWho - up to 4.16
Summary: Dean has met the Doctor, now it's Sams turn
Note: This takes place between S4 and S5 - Supernatural, before 'The End of Time' - Doctor Who
Comments much appreciated
Previous Chapter: Part 1
It takes Dean a moment to restart his brain and begin the laborious task of processing the Doctor’s mad ramblings, and then some how make sense of them. He blinks hard to clear the hazy fog that had crept over them while his mind was taking a breather. He studies the Doctor’s open expression, waiting for him to burst out laughing, because the Doctor has just cracked the biggest joke Dean has ever heard.
“What do you mean ‘You travel through time’?!”
“Time and space,” the Doctor corrects.
“Space. Right,” Dean says slowly, his eyes narrow. He shakes his head. “What the hell do you mean?!”
The Doctor looks side long at Dean, his brow furrowing as he says, “I mean just that, I’m a time traveller.”
“Seriously? Time travel?” Dean says sarcastically, his mind unhelpfully coughing up the fact that he had woken up in 1973 thanks to Castiel and his freakin' angel-fu. And Dean had been okay with believing that angels can warp time or whatever, but this guy too? This is getting rediculous.
“Yep,” the Doctor says, popping the ‘P’, a playful smile lighting his face.
“In that?” Dean adds, pointing sceptically at the TARDIS.
“That’s right.”
Dean sighs heavily. “You’ll forgive me if I find this a little hard to believe,” he remarks, folding his arms across his chest, and still searching for the joke that apparently never existed.
“Oh yes, absolutely,” the Doctor agrees. “Completely understandable. I wouldn’t believe me if I were you, or uh, if you were me and I were you, oh um… you were me, and, I were… me? Oh…” The Doctor’s nose scrunches up as he struggles to prise some sense out of his own words. Dean just watches, blinking slowly, his arms still folded across his chest, as he waits patiently for the madness to end.
“Ah well,” the Doctor sighs, apparently giving up on that particular conversation altogether. “I really should be getting to Cardiff,” he says, looking forlornly at the TARDIS across the park.
“How are you gonna to do that if your ship isn’t working properly?” Dean says, his mouth apparently working on its own now seeing how his brain is taking a back seat, or is in fact, hiding behind said seat.
The doctor looks thoughtful for a moment, eyes drawn to the sky. “I suppose I could take public transport. I took a bus once, didn’t quite go according to plan, but I suppose it all worked out in the end, plus I met some lovely people. I’ve never been on a plane though, not really the best place to be in a crisis, especially when crises seem to follow me around. There’s only one place to go, and that’s down, fast, and spinning, not too good with the spinning, nobody wants vomit flying into their face as they’re plummeting to their doom, not to mention there’s very little legroom…” he trails off, his expression bleak.
Dean stares, what else can he do, but stare, pretend to look interested and hope there isn’t a quiz afterwards.
“Ah ha!” the Doctor cheers, causing Dean’s heart to leap into his throat for a second.
“Holy crap, man!” Dean gasps, his brain receiving a jolt along with his heart and thoroughly waking him up. “Stop doing that already!” he huffs irritably, glaring at the Doctor who apologises for nearly giving Dean a heart attack for the second time. Of all the way to die, including the way Dean did die, being surprised to death by a freakin’ skinny guy in a suit, would be so bad; he’d die for a third time purely from the humiliation of it.
“So why ‘Ah ha’?” Dean enquires, his heart settling into a more normal rhythm, and seriously hopes he doesn’t regret asking.
“Oh I realized she might have a little-”
“Dean!” Sam shouts, interrupting the Doctor as he crests a small hill in the lower section of the park. “What the hell, Dean, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought something had happened to you.” His face is lightly flushed and Dean can see the remnants of worry still creasing his brother’s brow.
Dean sets his jaw. “Something has happened, Sam,” he declares, his voice overly dark and forbidding. He takes a breath and says, “Sam, meet alien. Alien meet Sam,”
“Actually it’s Doctor,” the Doctor corrects, offering his hand to Sam who regards it warily, but otherwise ignores the gesture and turns his full attention on Dean.
“Dude, are you feeling okay?” he asks him, his voice laced with concern, as the Doctor lowers his hand with a shrug.
Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, Sam,” he says, knowing that had he been in Sam’s position; he’d have asked the exact same question. He rests a hand on his brother’s shoulder and twists him around to face the Doctor, “But he’s an alien, Sam. An. Actual. Alien. Like, ya know, flying saucers and shit, except his is uh, uh…”
“TARDIS,” the doctor supplies. “Time And Relative Dimension In Space,” he adds for whatever reason, perhaps he thinks it might help Dean understand, but in fact it just serves to confound him further.
Sam shakes his head, paying another fleeting glance to the man in the pinstriped suit. “Dean, what-”
“It’s true, Sam,” Castiel interrupts, at last joining the conversation, and turning to face Sam. “This man is from another world,” he says, then tilts his head thoughtfully. “Though I am yet to determine whether he comes in peace.”
Dean blinks; did Castiel just crack a joke? Judging by the angle’s poker face and level voice, he could just as easily of been reading someone’s eulogy. Sam’s mouth hangs open his next word left unspoken. He looks at the Doctor, they all do, and the Doctor just… grins.
“Alien?” Sam asks incredulously.
“That’s me,” the Doctor admits cheerfully, and not for the first time says, “Though I do prefer to be called the Doctor.”
Sam opens and closes his mouth a few times as he tries, and fails to come up with a reasonable response to the short but bizarre conversation that’s just unfolded before them.
“You realise how ridiculous this sounds?” he finally asks, his head cocked to one side.
“Dude, you have no idea,” Dean declares, his shoulders dropping heavily as he feels mountains worth of tension crumbling off him, knowing he can now leave the thinking up to Sam on this one.
The Doctor shakes his head. “You don’t watch much world news do you?” he asks.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Dean asks, slightly thrown by the seemingly random question.
“Well you see, if you did, then you might know a little about aliens. For instance, London has been invaded loads of times, and that’s just in the last few years. It’s practically on a regular basis, and for some unknown reason there usually seems to be an invasion on Christmas,” he says thoughtfully. “Haven’t quite worked out why, maybe they like the snow, or all the pretty lights, or the mince pies,” he says with a smile, then apparently notices the three pairs of eyes trained on him in puzzled incomprehension. Well at least four of the six eyes are puzzled by the Doctor’s ramblings, the other two always look that way. Dean looks at Castiel, wondering if the angel is following what the alien is talking about, and whether he knows more than what he’s letting on.
The Doctor looks up slowly, a frown knitting his brows together. “Umm, Didn’t you hear about the enormous ship over London?” he asks, hopefully. “I had a sword fight with the Sycorax. Threw a Satsuma. Lost my hand for a little while too.” He pauses, a glimmer of hope shinning in his wide eyes. “No? Really?” He sounds shocked. “Well how about Robotic Santas and living mannequins? Or people around the world being hypnotised? How about a giant star over London? No? Really? Really really?” the Doctor says, squinting at them, the pitch of his voice rising with every ‘really’. He shakes his head in disbelief. “You really should watch more television.”
“Well we would, only we’re a bit busy saving the world all the time,” Dean comments dryly, looking pointedly at Castiel whose attention seems to be somewhere else entirely.
“Oh,” the Doctor says, wide eyed. “Me too. Funny old world this, always someone trying to take over it in some way or another,” he muses.
Dean stares at the Doctor dubiously, his eyes narrow. “So what was the last thing you saved the world from then?”
The Doctor looks thoughtful as he says, “Well, last time I was on Earth, was when… Ah yes. A wormhole opened up in London to a planet called San Helios where a swarm of metallic stingray-like aliens were busy destroying the ecosphere,” he explaines in one long breath. “If we hadn’t closed the wormhole they’d have come through to this world.” He sets his jaw. “No more Earth,” he explains plainly, his expression sombre.
Dean shakes his head and turns to Sam. “This is insane.”
Sam shakes his head too. “I know, but Dean, we fight, werewolves, ghosts, even vampires, on a daily basis. You don’t think that maybe that’s insane?” he hisses, his voice almost a whisper. Apparently Sam doesn’t want the ‘alien’ finding out that ‘vampires’ and ‘ghosts’ and shit really exist, which is just too funny to Dean. Were he not so weirded out by the whole situation, he probably would have laughed.
“Yeah, but I’ve seen all of them,” Dean says instead.
“And you can see him,” Sam points out, motioning toward the Doctor. And Dean knows that even Sam must be finding it a bit hard to believe that this skinny suited maniac is an alien. He just isn’t, well, green, or even grey and his eyes are way too small and there’s no antena or antanai or whatever, in sight. Dude’s not following the fricken’ script at all. Dean doesn’t like it when things don’t look the way they’re supossed to, makes them really hard to find, and kill.
“Not to mention him,” Sam continues, glancing at Castiel, who Dean is surprised to find hasn’t dissapeared. The angel has been so quite Dean almost forgot he was even there. “Angels, Dean.” Sam shrugs, shaking his head. "This just seems to be the world we live in.”
“Frickin’ world just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Dean groans, rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze still falling on Cas and the way the angel is just staring at nothing. “So you here to end the apocalypse then? Stick Lucifer back in his Hell hole?” Dean asks distractedly, watching as Castiel’s expression shifts minutely, his gaze roving the sky, his eyes narrowing then widening again, his lips parted and twitching as though they are shaping words. And Dean can’t shake the feeling that maybe they are…
“Yeah, we could do with another good guy, we seem to be running low,” Sam says.
There’s silence for a moment, the Doctor apparently lost for words, and isn’t that the craziest thing yet.
“Apocalypse?” the Doctor asks at last.
Sam chuckles. “66 seals? Lucifer reeking merry hell on Earth? Demon carnage? The end of the world?” he asks, obviously finding it amusing that mister not-it-all alien doesn’t know the world is ending. And right now only Sam sees the funny side in that because Dean is still too distracted. He can’t drag his eyes away from Castiel whose expression has turned noticeably darker. Dean’s mouth runs dry, a bad feeling massing in his gut.
The Doctor makes a little noise of surprise at Sam’s explanation and moves in some way that Dean can’t quite make out in his peripheral vision. Abruptly Castiel’s attention is fixed on the Doctor just as the Doctor says. “Guess I’ll be staying a little longer than intended.”
Dean swallows hard and dry around a lump in his throat, still unable to drag his eyes away from the unnerving look on Castiel face.
Part 3