Fic: Spn/DrWho/TW crossover - Enter the Doctor - (5/?)
Title: Enter the Doctor - Part 5
Author: ravengrimm
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Ten, Sam, Cpt Jack, John, Paul
Genre: Crossover - Supernatural/Doctor Who/Torchwood, Slash (YES SLASH AT LAST!) and some crack.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3242
Warnings: This chapter introduces some real people
Spoilers: Spn - S4, DrWho - up to 4.16, TW - CoE
Summary: After an eventful night Dean feels strangely rejuvenated and ready to take on the day, only for something really unexpected to happen, well two unexpected things actually...
Notes: This takes place between S4 and S5 - Supernatural, before 'The End of Time' - Doctor Who, and at the end of 'Children of Earth' - Torchwood.
Previous Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Dean sleeps surprisingly well, despite the fact that he’s effectively been stranded in another country with no passport, no local currency, or even a fresh pair of underwear. Despite currently being inside a time machine from another world with an alien and a guy from the future. Despite having eaten his way through a whole pizza and drinking a six pack to himself last night. Despite nearly getting lost twice trying to find his room, which, when the Doctor had shown it to him, had been the first door on the left. Despite all that, Dean manages to sleep and even wakes up feeling strangely refreshed, and ready to take on whatever craziness the Doctor brings his way.
It had been an entertaining night, to say the least. Dean can’t remember ever having quite so much fun playing cards before, but considering he was off his face on a mixture of beer and some strange liquid Jack had brought back from his travels, it isn’t really surprising. Sam was wasted too, Jack the same, but it took a lot to get the Doctor the slightest bit tipsy, and Castiel seemed immune to even Jack’s strange concoction, that Dean is sure must have singed the hairs of his nostrils when he burped.
Jack had asked why the alcohol had no effect on Castiel but seemed too drunk to acknowledge Dean’s slurred reply and had passed out shortly afterwards any way. Dean didn’t think playing ‘I’ve Never’ was such a great idea but then Jack had been the one to suggest they played it, so it was his own fault.
Dean had found the room eventually, well Castiel had, picking him off the floor, hefting him onto the bed, and muttering something Dean couldn’t quite hear over the fuzz in his ears. Everything else is a little blank after that, he can’t remember getting out of his clothes, all of them, or slipping under the covers. Can’t remember when Castiel had left or why Dean feels a little anxious about seeing him again. But he’s sure it’ll come back to him, it always does.
Jack said the best thing about Squidip or Squidap or whatever it’s called, is that it never gives you a hangover no matter how much you drink, and Dean hadn’t believed him, but that didn’t stop him from trying it.
Waking up he realises it’s true though. Some of last night is still hazy but he’s completely headache free, even though he’d drank enough beer to give him one any way.
The bedroom seems generic enough; just like any other room Dean has stayed in, except of course, there aren’t any windows, and Dean is fairly certain the door had been on a different wall before he’d fallen asleep, but he’s just going to forget about that.
After showering quickly, and putting on jeans that the Doctor swears haven’t been worn before, he finds Castiel waiting for him in the bedroom. The angel doesn’t say anything when he enters the room, and turns his eyes aside when he sees Dean’s bare chest.
“’Sup, Cas?” Dean asks, looking at him sideways and slipping on the least garish or tourist-screaming T-shirt that he could find.
Castiel is still silent and it makes Dean a little nervous.
“Cas?”
Castiel takes a step closer, his mouth ready to speak, but stops and turns away again.
Really fricken’ nervous.
“Cas, come on, what’s wrong?” Dean asks, closing the gap between them and cupping his hands around the angel’s shoulders.
When Castiel finally looks up, his gaze is probing, intense, and it makes Dean’s heart thump an erratic beat in his chest. Castiel is so close, so unbelievably real in Dean’s hands as he squeezes them slightly to make sure he’s not dreaming.
Something seems different; Dean can feel it in himself, a strange sort of clarity, like a cloud has been lifted and now he sees clearly, sees Castiel clearly.
Castiel’s lips open as though he means to speak again, drawing Dean’s eyes to them, but when no words come out Dean’s hand moves on it’s own, sliding up Castiel’s shoulder, up his neck. Dean’s knuckles scrap over stubble until his fingers find the angel’s lips that slip open further against his touch.
Castiel doesn’t back away as Dean moves in, doesn’t look the least bit surprised either. He doesn’t flinch or pull away when he undoubtedly feels Dean’s breath against his lips, their foreheads resting together. He doesn’t struggle or stiffen up as Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck, one hand raking up through the angel’s hair.
Dean swallows hard, he can’t believe he’s doing this, he can’t believe he’s doing it so effortlessly, and he can’t believe Castiel is letting him. And now that he has Castiel in his arms, Dean doesn’t want to let go. It feels so good, so incredible just to feel the warmth of Castiel’s breath against his lips.
“About last night,” Dean mutters, his voice breathy and faint as the memory floats back to him like he knew it would. “If I was out-of-line …” he starts but Castiel tilts his head up and their lips touch for the first time. And Dean can’t breath, how long has he wanted this? How long has he waited? Hoped…
“You weren’t out-of-line,” Castiel breathes against Dean’s mouth. “Only too drunk to stay awake long enough.” And the thick, rumble of his voice and the implications of what Castiel is saying makes Dean’s whole body shiver.
“You mean if I hadn’t fallen asleep…”
“Be quiet, Dean,” Castiel mummers as he slides his hands up between their bodies and cupping them against Dean’s cheeks, he pulls their lips together.
Dean’s mind whites out as he realises what he’s doing, realises that he’s kissing Castiel, kissing a real, grace filled angel of the Lord. Kissing him and being kissed in return. And feeling Castiel press against him, pushing the kiss deeper makes sparks fly behind Dean’s eye.
Castiel moans faintly into Dean’s mouth as their tongues meet and it’s the greatest sound Dean has ever heard coupled with the greatest sensation.
Dean breaks the kiss slowly, his breath heavy and hot, his mind reeling. Castiel is too close to focus on as Dean’s not yet ready to let him go, so he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Castiel’s again.
“You don’t know how long-” Dean starts but Castiel cuts him off by saying, “Yes I do.” With such certainty that Dean knows it, can feel it, can see it… Could have seen it long ago if only he’d allowed himself to believe it were possible. It’s been in Castiel’s eyes this whole time, and Dean had just been too blind, too pessimistic to see it. Dean could kick himself for wasting so much time, for not doing this sooner.
They stay like that, silent, Dean unwilling to let go in case he never gets another chance like this. Castiel pressed against his chest, his breath caressing Dean cheek. And still somehow, Dean can’t believe this is real, that Heaven would allow it, that Dean could be so lucky, that Castiel would feel the same.
And yet the proof is kissing him again, is holding the back of his head and kissing along his jaw, down his neck and burying his face against Dean’s shoulder.
“This is real?” Dean says, voicing his concern aloud and Castiel nods against his neck.
“It’s real, Dean,” he says standing back again and looking Dean in the eyes. “It has been real since the day I raised you for Hell. And it always will be,” he says before touching a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips and disappearing. And this is one time Dean doesn’t mind him going without a word as to why, because Dean knows he’ll be back, the promise in the angel’s words making that as clear as day.
Dean finds Sam and the Doctor in the control room. They’re sitting on cushions pawing over textbooks that still have the price stickers on, and the look on Sam’s face is like a punch to the gut for Dean. Sam is smiling, really fricken’ smiling, like from ear to ear. And he’s got that child like gleam in his eye that Dean hasn’t seen in so many years. It makes Dean’s heart constrict because it’s been so long, too long. Dean thought that side of Sam had been lost, snatched away by the demons, by the apocalypse; he never dreamed he’d get his little brother back again. Dean could actually kiss the Doctor for giving him his Sammy back.
What an epic day this is starting out to be!
“Dean, this is awesome!” Sam says, looking up from the book his nose had been stuffed in. “He’s met Shakespeare, and the Queen of England, he’s even been to Pompeii, Dean, on volcano day!”
“They’ve been like this for hours,” Jack says, slouching on the coach they’d left him on last night after he’d passed out, the couch they had dragged from another room after much protesting that grate flooring isn’t comfortable in the slightest.
“It’s cute,” he continues, resting his head on his hand as he watches Sam and the Doctor talk history or is it future now? The Doctor is saying something about New New York, or no. New new new new new new… whatever, Dean guesses it must be futuristic.
“Just a couple of nerds getting their geek on,” Dean sniggers, watching as Sam’s expression falls wide with surprise at something the Doctor has said.
“That’s it Dean,” he says. “I need a TARDIS.”
Dean laughs. “Yeah that’s all we need,” he says before suddenly it clicks, and Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it sooner. “Why don’t we just go back in time and stop Sam from breaking the final seal? We have a fricken’ time machine, we can stop him from killing Lillith and there’d be no more apocalypse!”
Sam stares at him, but Dean can see the same realisation in his eyes, the same hope, but the Doctor’s expression washes their optimism away.
He sighs, taking off his glasses. “Because it’s not that simple. Something as huge as Hell on Earth can’t be undone. It’s just too big.”
“He’s right, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean doesn’t know how long he’s been standing behind him. His sudden appearance makes Dean blush slightly despite the seriousness of the conversation. “It’s like I showed you with your mother and Azazel, you can’t change what has been done, only hope to fix it,” Castiel concludes, and Dean catches a tiny smile in his lips as he turns his eyes aside, and it makes Dean feel like a child with a secret crush he doesn’t want his little brother to know about.
Dean should have known it wouldn’t be that simple, and maybe he did and that’s why he hadn’t asked sooner. He probably just got caught up in the moment of having everything going right for once, and reversing the apocalypse would have been the icing on the cake.
“Yeah,” he says and sits on the arm of the couch only to leap to his feet again when a siren starts wailing, accompanied by a flashing purple light.
“What the hell is that?” he exclaims just as the Doctor jumps to his feet saying, “Oh no no no no.” And darts over to the computer.
The Doctor gawps at the screen in front of him, confusion written all over his face. “What?!” he exclaims blinking and frowning. “But that’s not right!”
“What is it?” Jack asks, jumping up off the couch to join him at the computer. The Doctor flicks a switch, then another, and another. Nothing seems to change the desperate look on his face.
He turns a dial while holding something down with his foot, stretching right across the console.
He stares again. “But that’s impossible!” he says, thumping down another button a few times and glaring at the screen after each attempt. “No - But - It - That - That’s impossible!”
“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, feeling really unnerved; he’s pretty sure his good day is slipping through his fingers.
“Does that say what I think it does, Doctor?” Jack asks edgily, pointing at the monitor and the Doctor nods very slowly. “Nineteen sixty-four?” he adds and Dean doesn’t like the sound of that.
The Doctor nods again and Dean swallows dryly. “What about nineteen sixty-four?” he asks and Jack turns to him, an ominous look in his eyes.
“We’re in it.”
“It isn’t possible!” the Doctor exclaims. “We didn’t go any where!” he says, dashing around to the other side of the computer and flicking switches here and there.
“What do you mean we’re in nineteen sixty-four?” Sam asks unfolding himself off the floor and joining the Doctor and Jack at the computer.
“Cas?” Dean asks, turning to Castiel, in the hopes that he might have some clue as to what’s going on, but he finds the angel looks just as confused as Dean feels. He shakes his head as he meets Dean’s eyes.
Dean watches the little chaotic scene taking place around the computer, Jack and the Doctor pressing things here and there, Sam trying to help as best he can, and Dean takes a deep breath.
He shrugs, and walking across the room, he opens the TARDIS’s doors.
No snow is the first thing Dean notices, that and the weird style of cars that pass infrequently by. They’re also on a street now, with three-story buildings across the road, but they appear to be in a side alley and thankfully not blocking traffic.
“Looks like we’re not in Kansas any more, Sammy,” Dean says as his brother steps up beside him.
“I told ye there was someone in there, Paul” a voice says from the other side of the door giving Dean a start.
“I never said there wasn’t,” another voice says, possibly the one called Paul, and Sam and Dean trade questioning looks.
Dean lets the door fall open fully and a man stares at them, a cigarette in one hand, and floppy brown hair framing his eyes.
“Ello,” the man says with a cheery smile. “Been up to no good?” he asks before putting the Cigarette to his lips and inhaling. A head appears from around the corner of the TARDIS and smiles at them.
“Hi there,” the head says, brushing hair out of his eyes and standing up straight to rest his arm over the other one’s shoulder.
“Uh… hi,” Sam says, looking at Dean and then back at the two men again. “I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean,” he adds, stepping past Dean and out onto the alleyway.
The one Dean suspects is called Paul looks surprised, his sloping boyish eyes falling wide.
“Brothers?” he echoes, and looks at his friend. “Well you got that one wrong, John,” he says with a laugh and holds his hand out, his elbow still resting on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m Paul and this is John,” he says and Sam takes his hand, with a frown and a smile.
Paul then takes Dean’s hand, but stops mid shake; his eyes drawn to something behind Dean.
“Three of you in there?” he asks impressed and surprised, and Dean glances over his shoulder to find Castiel.
- “How can we not be in Cardiff any more?” Dean hears Jack say and Paul’s wide-eyed expression turns to a frown. He looks about to speak but stops when the Doctor says, “I have no idea.”
“Five?!” Paul asks after a moment, and John chokes back laugher around the cigarette held between his lips. “I didn’t think there was that much space in one of them,” Paul says with an infectious little laugh.
The conversation within the TARDIS continues, Jack saying, “And why Liverpool?”
- “It’s not possible, Jack. I don’t know!” the Doctor replies.
There’s silence inside and outside until John says, “You lot aren’t from around here are you?”
Dean shakes his head. “No, not exactly.”
Dean can feel a light insistent tug on the sleeve of his coat and looking down he finds Sam’s fingers gripping the fabric.
“What?” he hisses, pulling his arm free.
“Dean, I think…” Sam starts, his voice low as he whispers into Dean’s ear. “I think…” He swallows, frowns, and folds his arms across his chest before saying, “Are you John Lennon and Paul McCartney?”
Dean may not be a huge Beatle fan but he knows those names, and when Paul nods Dean thinks he might just have had a mini heart attack.
Sam looks stuck between wanting to say too many things, and eventually settles for a goofy sounding, “Oh, wow!” followed by a little hysterical laugh.
Before Sam has a chance to come up with something more coherent to say, the Doctor yells at them to get back inside now, or risk being stuck in nineteen sixty-four.
Dean drags Sam back into the ship before he even has a chance to open his mouth again, Castiel at his side and the Doctor says, “Well that was close.”
“So we’re back then?” Jack asks from behind the computer.
“Looks that way,” the Doctor says, and turns to Dean, Sam and Castiel with a smile that quickly fades. He frowns. “Um… didn’t anyone shut the door?” he asks and Dean follows the Doctors gaze to find two wide-eyed Beatles standing just inside the doorway.
“Big…” is all Paul says and John simply nods.
*
- What happened last night after Dean and Sam had drunkenly wandered back to their rooms - Castiel trailing after Dean. Jack has died and come back to life after drinking way too much Squidip -
“Jack, I remember where I’ve heard of Squidip,” the Doctor says after a lengthy pause and Jack stops drinking with a slight splutter of coffee.
“Mm?” he mumbles.
“You shouldn’t have given it to Dean, Jack. Not without telling him about the side effects,” the Doctor tells him, feeling like a father telling off his child for shaving the cat, or putting super glue on the loo seat.
“What side effects?” Jack asks feigning innocence, his eyes not quite managing to meet the Doctor’s.
The Doctor sighs. “The ones written in bold green text on the side of the bottle, the ones Dean wouldn’t have been able to read.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never seen any side effects,” Jack says, picking up his winnings from their last poker game; thirty-five cent, three M&Ms, a small lump of Twinkie, one red wire, and three Jelly Babies.
The Doctor puts on his glasses and picks up an empty bottle of Squidip. “Light-headedness, mild hallucination, boosts energy, boosts confidence, increases libido… Should I go on?”
“I think they should add ‘May cause untimely death when consuming three bottles worth,’” Jack says rubbing his neck.
“Actually it says here not to drink more than one bottle within forty-eight hours, Jack,” the Doctor informs him. “Labels are there for a reason, you know.”
Jack smiles thinly and shrugs. “It’ll take more than that to finish me off, and Dean didn’t even have half a bottle. Anyway he needed a push in the right direction, I was being helpful,” he says, not sounding the slightest bit ashamed and the Doctor shakes his head.
“He’d thank me if he knew. Trust me,” Jack adds with a wink.
Part 6
Author: ravengrimm
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Ten, Sam, Cpt Jack, John, Paul
Genre: Crossover - Supernatural/Doctor Who/Torchwood, Slash (YES SLASH AT LAST!) and some crack.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3242
Warnings: This chapter introduces some real people
Spoilers: Spn - S4, DrWho - up to 4.16, TW - CoE
Summary: After an eventful night Dean feels strangely rejuvenated and ready to take on the day, only for something really unexpected to happen, well two unexpected things actually...
Notes: This takes place between S4 and S5 - Supernatural, before 'The End of Time' - Doctor Who, and at the end of 'Children of Earth' - Torchwood.
Previous Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Dean sleeps surprisingly well, despite the fact that he’s effectively been stranded in another country with no passport, no local currency, or even a fresh pair of underwear. Despite currently being inside a time machine from another world with an alien and a guy from the future. Despite having eaten his way through a whole pizza and drinking a six pack to himself last night. Despite nearly getting lost twice trying to find his room, which, when the Doctor had shown it to him, had been the first door on the left. Despite all that, Dean manages to sleep and even wakes up feeling strangely refreshed, and ready to take on whatever craziness the Doctor brings his way.
It had been an entertaining night, to say the least. Dean can’t remember ever having quite so much fun playing cards before, but considering he was off his face on a mixture of beer and some strange liquid Jack had brought back from his travels, it isn’t really surprising. Sam was wasted too, Jack the same, but it took a lot to get the Doctor the slightest bit tipsy, and Castiel seemed immune to even Jack’s strange concoction, that Dean is sure must have singed the hairs of his nostrils when he burped.
Jack had asked why the alcohol had no effect on Castiel but seemed too drunk to acknowledge Dean’s slurred reply and had passed out shortly afterwards any way. Dean didn’t think playing ‘I’ve Never’ was such a great idea but then Jack had been the one to suggest they played it, so it was his own fault.
Dean had found the room eventually, well Castiel had, picking him off the floor, hefting him onto the bed, and muttering something Dean couldn’t quite hear over the fuzz in his ears. Everything else is a little blank after that, he can’t remember getting out of his clothes, all of them, or slipping under the covers. Can’t remember when Castiel had left or why Dean feels a little anxious about seeing him again. But he’s sure it’ll come back to him, it always does.
Jack said the best thing about Squidip or Squidap or whatever it’s called, is that it never gives you a hangover no matter how much you drink, and Dean hadn’t believed him, but that didn’t stop him from trying it.
Waking up he realises it’s true though. Some of last night is still hazy but he’s completely headache free, even though he’d drank enough beer to give him one any way.
The bedroom seems generic enough; just like any other room Dean has stayed in, except of course, there aren’t any windows, and Dean is fairly certain the door had been on a different wall before he’d fallen asleep, but he’s just going to forget about that.
After showering quickly, and putting on jeans that the Doctor swears haven’t been worn before, he finds Castiel waiting for him in the bedroom. The angel doesn’t say anything when he enters the room, and turns his eyes aside when he sees Dean’s bare chest.
“’Sup, Cas?” Dean asks, looking at him sideways and slipping on the least garish or tourist-screaming T-shirt that he could find.
Castiel is still silent and it makes Dean a little nervous.
“Cas?”
Castiel takes a step closer, his mouth ready to speak, but stops and turns away again.
Really fricken’ nervous.
“Cas, come on, what’s wrong?” Dean asks, closing the gap between them and cupping his hands around the angel’s shoulders.
When Castiel finally looks up, his gaze is probing, intense, and it makes Dean’s heart thump an erratic beat in his chest. Castiel is so close, so unbelievably real in Dean’s hands as he squeezes them slightly to make sure he’s not dreaming.
Something seems different; Dean can feel it in himself, a strange sort of clarity, like a cloud has been lifted and now he sees clearly, sees Castiel clearly.
Castiel’s lips open as though he means to speak again, drawing Dean’s eyes to them, but when no words come out Dean’s hand moves on it’s own, sliding up Castiel’s shoulder, up his neck. Dean’s knuckles scrap over stubble until his fingers find the angel’s lips that slip open further against his touch.
Castiel doesn’t back away as Dean moves in, doesn’t look the least bit surprised either. He doesn’t flinch or pull away when he undoubtedly feels Dean’s breath against his lips, their foreheads resting together. He doesn’t struggle or stiffen up as Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck, one hand raking up through the angel’s hair.
Dean swallows hard, he can’t believe he’s doing this, he can’t believe he’s doing it so effortlessly, and he can’t believe Castiel is letting him. And now that he has Castiel in his arms, Dean doesn’t want to let go. It feels so good, so incredible just to feel the warmth of Castiel’s breath against his lips.
“About last night,” Dean mutters, his voice breathy and faint as the memory floats back to him like he knew it would. “If I was out-of-line …” he starts but Castiel tilts his head up and their lips touch for the first time. And Dean can’t breath, how long has he wanted this? How long has he waited? Hoped…
“You weren’t out-of-line,” Castiel breathes against Dean’s mouth. “Only too drunk to stay awake long enough.” And the thick, rumble of his voice and the implications of what Castiel is saying makes Dean’s whole body shiver.
“You mean if I hadn’t fallen asleep…”
“Be quiet, Dean,” Castiel mummers as he slides his hands up between their bodies and cupping them against Dean’s cheeks, he pulls their lips together.
Dean’s mind whites out as he realises what he’s doing, realises that he’s kissing Castiel, kissing a real, grace filled angel of the Lord. Kissing him and being kissed in return. And feeling Castiel press against him, pushing the kiss deeper makes sparks fly behind Dean’s eye.
Castiel moans faintly into Dean’s mouth as their tongues meet and it’s the greatest sound Dean has ever heard coupled with the greatest sensation.
Dean breaks the kiss slowly, his breath heavy and hot, his mind reeling. Castiel is too close to focus on as Dean’s not yet ready to let him go, so he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Castiel’s again.
“You don’t know how long-” Dean starts but Castiel cuts him off by saying, “Yes I do.” With such certainty that Dean knows it, can feel it, can see it… Could have seen it long ago if only he’d allowed himself to believe it were possible. It’s been in Castiel’s eyes this whole time, and Dean had just been too blind, too pessimistic to see it. Dean could kick himself for wasting so much time, for not doing this sooner.
They stay like that, silent, Dean unwilling to let go in case he never gets another chance like this. Castiel pressed against his chest, his breath caressing Dean cheek. And still somehow, Dean can’t believe this is real, that Heaven would allow it, that Dean could be so lucky, that Castiel would feel the same.
And yet the proof is kissing him again, is holding the back of his head and kissing along his jaw, down his neck and burying his face against Dean’s shoulder.
“This is real?” Dean says, voicing his concern aloud and Castiel nods against his neck.
“It’s real, Dean,” he says standing back again and looking Dean in the eyes. “It has been real since the day I raised you for Hell. And it always will be,” he says before touching a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips and disappearing. And this is one time Dean doesn’t mind him going without a word as to why, because Dean knows he’ll be back, the promise in the angel’s words making that as clear as day.
Dean finds Sam and the Doctor in the control room. They’re sitting on cushions pawing over textbooks that still have the price stickers on, and the look on Sam’s face is like a punch to the gut for Dean. Sam is smiling, really fricken’ smiling, like from ear to ear. And he’s got that child like gleam in his eye that Dean hasn’t seen in so many years. It makes Dean’s heart constrict because it’s been so long, too long. Dean thought that side of Sam had been lost, snatched away by the demons, by the apocalypse; he never dreamed he’d get his little brother back again. Dean could actually kiss the Doctor for giving him his Sammy back.
What an epic day this is starting out to be!
“Dean, this is awesome!” Sam says, looking up from the book his nose had been stuffed in. “He’s met Shakespeare, and the Queen of England, he’s even been to Pompeii, Dean, on volcano day!”
“They’ve been like this for hours,” Jack says, slouching on the coach they’d left him on last night after he’d passed out, the couch they had dragged from another room after much protesting that grate flooring isn’t comfortable in the slightest.
“It’s cute,” he continues, resting his head on his hand as he watches Sam and the Doctor talk history or is it future now? The Doctor is saying something about New New York, or no. New new new new new new… whatever, Dean guesses it must be futuristic.
“Just a couple of nerds getting their geek on,” Dean sniggers, watching as Sam’s expression falls wide with surprise at something the Doctor has said.
“That’s it Dean,” he says. “I need a TARDIS.”
Dean laughs. “Yeah that’s all we need,” he says before suddenly it clicks, and Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it sooner. “Why don’t we just go back in time and stop Sam from breaking the final seal? We have a fricken’ time machine, we can stop him from killing Lillith and there’d be no more apocalypse!”
Sam stares at him, but Dean can see the same realisation in his eyes, the same hope, but the Doctor’s expression washes their optimism away.
He sighs, taking off his glasses. “Because it’s not that simple. Something as huge as Hell on Earth can’t be undone. It’s just too big.”
“He’s right, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean doesn’t know how long he’s been standing behind him. His sudden appearance makes Dean blush slightly despite the seriousness of the conversation. “It’s like I showed you with your mother and Azazel, you can’t change what has been done, only hope to fix it,” Castiel concludes, and Dean catches a tiny smile in his lips as he turns his eyes aside, and it makes Dean feel like a child with a secret crush he doesn’t want his little brother to know about.
Dean should have known it wouldn’t be that simple, and maybe he did and that’s why he hadn’t asked sooner. He probably just got caught up in the moment of having everything going right for once, and reversing the apocalypse would have been the icing on the cake.
“Yeah,” he says and sits on the arm of the couch only to leap to his feet again when a siren starts wailing, accompanied by a flashing purple light.
“What the hell is that?” he exclaims just as the Doctor jumps to his feet saying, “Oh no no no no.” And darts over to the computer.
The Doctor gawps at the screen in front of him, confusion written all over his face. “What?!” he exclaims blinking and frowning. “But that’s not right!”
“What is it?” Jack asks, jumping up off the couch to join him at the computer. The Doctor flicks a switch, then another, and another. Nothing seems to change the desperate look on his face.
He turns a dial while holding something down with his foot, stretching right across the console.
He stares again. “But that’s impossible!” he says, thumping down another button a few times and glaring at the screen after each attempt. “No - But - It - That - That’s impossible!”
“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, feeling really unnerved; he’s pretty sure his good day is slipping through his fingers.
“Does that say what I think it does, Doctor?” Jack asks edgily, pointing at the monitor and the Doctor nods very slowly. “Nineteen sixty-four?” he adds and Dean doesn’t like the sound of that.
The Doctor nods again and Dean swallows dryly. “What about nineteen sixty-four?” he asks and Jack turns to him, an ominous look in his eyes.
“We’re in it.”
“It isn’t possible!” the Doctor exclaims. “We didn’t go any where!” he says, dashing around to the other side of the computer and flicking switches here and there.
“What do you mean we’re in nineteen sixty-four?” Sam asks unfolding himself off the floor and joining the Doctor and Jack at the computer.
“Cas?” Dean asks, turning to Castiel, in the hopes that he might have some clue as to what’s going on, but he finds the angel looks just as confused as Dean feels. He shakes his head as he meets Dean’s eyes.
Dean watches the little chaotic scene taking place around the computer, Jack and the Doctor pressing things here and there, Sam trying to help as best he can, and Dean takes a deep breath.
He shrugs, and walking across the room, he opens the TARDIS’s doors.
No snow is the first thing Dean notices, that and the weird style of cars that pass infrequently by. They’re also on a street now, with three-story buildings across the road, but they appear to be in a side alley and thankfully not blocking traffic.
“Looks like we’re not in Kansas any more, Sammy,” Dean says as his brother steps up beside him.
“I told ye there was someone in there, Paul” a voice says from the other side of the door giving Dean a start.
“I never said there wasn’t,” another voice says, possibly the one called Paul, and Sam and Dean trade questioning looks.
Dean lets the door fall open fully and a man stares at them, a cigarette in one hand, and floppy brown hair framing his eyes.
“Ello,” the man says with a cheery smile. “Been up to no good?” he asks before putting the Cigarette to his lips and inhaling. A head appears from around the corner of the TARDIS and smiles at them.
“Hi there,” the head says, brushing hair out of his eyes and standing up straight to rest his arm over the other one’s shoulder.
“Uh… hi,” Sam says, looking at Dean and then back at the two men again. “I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean,” he adds, stepping past Dean and out onto the alleyway.
The one Dean suspects is called Paul looks surprised, his sloping boyish eyes falling wide.
“Brothers?” he echoes, and looks at his friend. “Well you got that one wrong, John,” he says with a laugh and holds his hand out, his elbow still resting on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m Paul and this is John,” he says and Sam takes his hand, with a frown and a smile.
Paul then takes Dean’s hand, but stops mid shake; his eyes drawn to something behind Dean.
“Three of you in there?” he asks impressed and surprised, and Dean glances over his shoulder to find Castiel.
- “How can we not be in Cardiff any more?” Dean hears Jack say and Paul’s wide-eyed expression turns to a frown. He looks about to speak but stops when the Doctor says, “I have no idea.”
“Five?!” Paul asks after a moment, and John chokes back laugher around the cigarette held between his lips. “I didn’t think there was that much space in one of them,” Paul says with an infectious little laugh.
The conversation within the TARDIS continues, Jack saying, “And why Liverpool?”
- “It’s not possible, Jack. I don’t know!” the Doctor replies.
There’s silence inside and outside until John says, “You lot aren’t from around here are you?”
Dean shakes his head. “No, not exactly.”
Dean can feel a light insistent tug on the sleeve of his coat and looking down he finds Sam’s fingers gripping the fabric.
“What?” he hisses, pulling his arm free.
“Dean, I think…” Sam starts, his voice low as he whispers into Dean’s ear. “I think…” He swallows, frowns, and folds his arms across his chest before saying, “Are you John Lennon and Paul McCartney?”
Dean may not be a huge Beatle fan but he knows those names, and when Paul nods Dean thinks he might just have had a mini heart attack.
Sam looks stuck between wanting to say too many things, and eventually settles for a goofy sounding, “Oh, wow!” followed by a little hysterical laugh.
Before Sam has a chance to come up with something more coherent to say, the Doctor yells at them to get back inside now, or risk being stuck in nineteen sixty-four.
Dean drags Sam back into the ship before he even has a chance to open his mouth again, Castiel at his side and the Doctor says, “Well that was close.”
“So we’re back then?” Jack asks from behind the computer.
“Looks that way,” the Doctor says, and turns to Dean, Sam and Castiel with a smile that quickly fades. He frowns. “Um… didn’t anyone shut the door?” he asks and Dean follows the Doctors gaze to find two wide-eyed Beatles standing just inside the doorway.
“Big…” is all Paul says and John simply nods.
*
- What happened last night after Dean and Sam had drunkenly wandered back to their rooms - Castiel trailing after Dean. Jack has died and come back to life after drinking way too much Squidip -
“Jack, I remember where I’ve heard of Squidip,” the Doctor says after a lengthy pause and Jack stops drinking with a slight splutter of coffee.
“Mm?” he mumbles.
“You shouldn’t have given it to Dean, Jack. Not without telling him about the side effects,” the Doctor tells him, feeling like a father telling off his child for shaving the cat, or putting super glue on the loo seat.
“What side effects?” Jack asks feigning innocence, his eyes not quite managing to meet the Doctor’s.
The Doctor sighs. “The ones written in bold green text on the side of the bottle, the ones Dean wouldn’t have been able to read.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never seen any side effects,” Jack says, picking up his winnings from their last poker game; thirty-five cent, three M&Ms, a small lump of Twinkie, one red wire, and three Jelly Babies.
The Doctor puts on his glasses and picks up an empty bottle of Squidip. “Light-headedness, mild hallucination, boosts energy, boosts confidence, increases libido… Should I go on?”
“I think they should add ‘May cause untimely death when consuming three bottles worth,’” Jack says rubbing his neck.
“Actually it says here not to drink more than one bottle within forty-eight hours, Jack,” the Doctor informs him. “Labels are there for a reason, you know.”
Jack smiles thinly and shrugs. “It’ll take more than that to finish me off, and Dean didn’t even have half a bottle. Anyway he needed a push in the right direction, I was being helpful,” he says, not sounding the slightest bit ashamed and the Doctor shakes his head.
“He’d thank me if he knew. Trust me,” Jack adds with a wink.
Part 6