FIC * When a good man goes to war * Doctor Who & Supernatural

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Title: When a good man goes to war
Fandom: Doctor Who & Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam, Eleven
Words: ~600
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Summary: When a good man goes to war, he calls in some owed favors from an old acquaintance.
Beta: none
Notes: Written for the Notte Bianca @ maridichallenge.



Dean watches the blue telephone booth that is materializing in a corner of the motel room, in some remote town in Nevada, and gulps audibly. He knew that sooner or later he would have come back, but in his heart he was still hoping... But no, he should have known that he never gets that lucky.

Sam is already drawing his gun and Dean hurries to motion him not to. He remembers very well that he doesn't like guns.

"Doctor," he says, nodding curtly to the man walking out of the booth.

"Hello!" he replies. He's not the same man that Dean remembers meeting, but at the same time he is. His ridiculous English accent is unmistakeable, just like his complete and utter incapacity to dress like a normal person. A tweed jacket and a bow tie? Please.

The Doctor adjusts his bow tie, as if reading his mind. Truth to be told, the idea isn't that far-fetched. This man is damn strange, and let's not forget that strange things are Dean's bread and butter.

"What's happening?" Sam asks, giving Dean a perplexed look. "Who's this man?"

"Aaah, you must be the younger brother," the Doctor says, turning towards Sammy with a really ridiculous twirl. "It's good to finally meet you, I've heard so many things about you. I'd love to stay and chat, I haven't been in the States in a few months... Well, I say a few months but it's actually since the Sixties. Since 1969 to be precise, a memorable year. Or maybe not really, it depends from your point of view. Long story. But I'm not here to talk about that."

The Doctor stops to breathe for a moment, and Dean takes advantage of that to introduce them before Sam starts drenching him in holy water or something like that.

"Doctor, my brother Sam. Sammy, this is the Doctor," he says, with an admonishing look to Sam."

"Doctor... who?" Sam asks.

"Just the Doctor," he replies with a small smile, as if Sam had made a joke, and then he rubs his hands. "I'd be happy to stay, but I'm a tad busy right now. And, speaking of, I'm here because I need a favor."

Dean nods. "Sure, you can count on us," he says. "I'm still in debt with you since Las Vegas."

"Las Vegas?" Sam interjects.

The Doctor's smile widens. "Yes, what an adventure that had been!" he exclaims.

Dean isn't exactly in the mood to reminisce that adventure, since he still has the scars, but for Sam's benefit he explains, "It was when you were at college. Aliens."

Sam's eyebrows rise up to his hairline. "Aliens?" he exclaims. "You told me that they didn't exist!"

"Rubbish, of course they exist," the Doctor says. "There are a load of aliens. You're aliens, for example. Well, to you I'm the alien. Same difference."

Sam seems even less convinced. "Okay, but we're hunting a werewolf and tonight is a full moon. If you can wait until tomorrow..."

"Trust him," Dean says. "Time isn't a problem around him..."

Then he turns to the Doctor. "I suppose we can't take the Impala?"

"It's a tad bit too far," he says apologetically. And to Sam's quizzical stare he replies, "About a couple hundred light years, give or take."

Dean sighs and gets his duffel bag. "Better not to ask questions. And leave your gun here, he doesn't like guns.

Obviously Dean isn't a fool and brings his gun anyway, tucked in the back of his jeans, and if Sam isn't a fool he'll do the same.

"But what's happening? Where are we going? What's that telephone booth?" Sam asks, following Dean inside. And then, right on cue, "Oh my god, it's bigger on the inside!"