Illegitimi non carborundum

Title:Close Encounter
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. Incidentally, neither is Supernatural
Summary: The Winchester boys run across the Doctor, Rose and a werewolf. Wackiness ensues.
Timeframe: Doctor Who post Tooth and Claw. Supernatural post Tall Tales. No real spoilers outside the general for either show.
Author’s Note: This is written for scornedsaint because she’s a thoroughly awesome person, she got me hooked on Doctor Who, and well, it’s her birthday.



This is how it happens.


Sam and Dean are tearing down the deserted pathway shotguns drawn because they don’t know who the werewolf is and it’s practically dawn and then there’s two shockingly well dressed people standing in front a blue police box. It’s not exactally the sort of thing you expect to see in this decade.


Dean skids to a stop a step away from knocking to them and Sam crashes into his brother’s back. It’s a miracle that they avoid hitting the ground.


“Hello!” the man in front of them says, offering a wide grin. The girl at his side stifles a giggle. “Who might you two be?”


Dean’s jaw drop slightly and it’s a full minute before he croaks. “Dean.”


“Well,” says the man brightly, “Pleasure to meet you Dean. You and your as of yet unidentified companion.”


“That’s Sam,” Dean says, still sounding vaguely dazed.


The girl nudges him in the side. “Being rude again.”


“Right!” the man says, smiling again. “Sorry, sorry. I’m the Doctor and this is Rose.” The introduction is given at lightning speed and it tumbles into the next sentence without taking time to pause. “You two haven’t seen a big threatening thing with great long claws and veryveryvery sharp teeth have you?”


Dean does the bug-eyed thing again, but Sam is quicker to recover. “You mean,” he tries cautiously, “the werewolf?”


He’s more than a little skeptical about them. They don’t look like a thing hunters. The Doctor is a few inches shorter then Dean, and twice as skinny. He’s wearing a suit which would have reminded Sam of some of his old professors at Stanford if it hadn’t been for the maniac grin and dirty white trainers. The girl, Rose, is dressed more casually, with a pair of old jeans and bright pink hoodie, but Sam doesn’t get fighter vibes off of her either. In his experiences, anyone wearing britght colors in the middle of hunt is either green or just plain stupid. Both of them are far to clean to be in the middle of a hunt for werewolves. Hunters have a type and these two just don’t fit.


Then again, in the past month they’d run across a body-switching curse, a man who’d turned into a fish and a small but viscious pack of gremlins.


They’d dealt with far stranger things than two British people and a big blue box in a forest.


The Doctor’s face is twisted in thought. “Werewolf,” he says, as if testing the word on his lips. “Suppose you could call it that, yeah, werewolf sounds about right.” He smiles brightly. “You haven’t seen it have you?”


“We've been tracking it a few days now,” Dean says. “We tagged it with the animal maulings from last month, couldn’t get here before now. I guess we should have figured someone else would be working the case. We’ve been poking around town but haven’t figured out the identity of our furry friend is.”


“Not going to do much good tonight,” Rose says, looking up through the trees. “S’almost dawn.”
________________________________________________________________________


The Doctor suggests they grab something to eat. Well, actually what he suggests is tea, but the grungy run-down diner doesn’t seem to know what he means. So the four of them sit crammed in a too-small booth sipping at some very black coffee. Sam’s more than a little apprehensive about the prospect of this Doctor on caffeine because if he’s high energy now, caffeine could very well cause an implosion.


Somewhere along the way, Dean picks his jaw up off the floor and notices that Rose is gorgeous, with a big friendly smile and, as his brother would say, curves in all the right places.


What Dean unlike Sam doesn’t seem to notice is that, even if the pair will never admit it, they’re attached. It was like that for him and Jess the first year or so. The Doctor seems more amused than threatened by Dean’s advances. Rose is flirtting back, but he doubts his brother has a chance. Then again, it was Dean after all.


But, first thing’s first…


“What are you doing hunting werewolves in a suit anyway?” Dean asks before Sam can get down to business. “Doesn’t exactly seem practical.”


Sam turns to stare at his brother. It is a legitimate question. Not exactly the level of seriousness Sam would have aimed for, but close enough.


“Now that’s rude,” says the Doctor turning to Rose. “I’m not that rude am I?” He turns back to Dean. “I like this suit. S’got pockets all over the place. Bit dressy, yeah, sometimes that’s the only defense you got!”


“Sometimes I think it’s the only suit he’s got,” Rose says.


The Doctor settles down and picks up his cup of coffee. “And it’s not a werewolf.”


“What do you mean it’s not a werewolf?” Sam asks. “Of course it’s a werewolf. All killings match the lunar cycle, it started with animal maulings, killed its first human last month. Now that it’s got the taste it’s getting bolder moving into more populated areas. We and Dean found it outside a club. It’s got all the classic signs, claws protruding from the fingertips, enlonged canines…”


“Sam’s right, Doc,” Dean says, “We’ve been hunting stuff like this since we were kids.”


“You two sound very brave,” Rose says, but she’s stifling giggles.


Dean doesn’t see to notice. “All in a day’s work sweetheart.”


“Did look at the eyes?” the Doctor asks. “I mean really look at them. What you’d call a werewolf would have… blue eyes if I’m remembering right. Cat’s eye slit down the middle. This one if I’m not mistake and let my tell you, I am very rarely mistake, should have great big black eyes and it’s not from around here. At least not originally.”


“Where’s it from then? Russia, Romania, Greece? There are legends of werewolf all around the world. It would make sense that there are local differences. Same genius different species, right?”


“Well that’s the principal of it, yeah,” the Doctor says, scratching his ear. “but…”


“Do we have to do the exposition?” Dean groans. “I feel like I’m watching the discovery channel.”


“Beautiful things though,” the Doctor says grinning. “Nothing like a lupine wavelength haemovariform to spice up your local nightlife.”


“Seriously man,” Dean says, “that’s strange even for our line of work.”


Sam steps in before Dean says something he might regret. “If it’s not a werewolf, then what is it?”


“Alien,” the Doctor says, dumping his second packet of sugar into his coffee. “Don’t know how something like that ended up here. Must of lost his ship or something.” He takes a quick sip of his coffee and Sam swears he can see the caffine taking hold. “Or maybe… OH! Could be an invasion. There hasn’t been a proper invasion in America in ages. Well, there was the hole ‘War of the Wars’ fiasco, but that probably doesn’t count.” He takes another sip. “Then again, who’d want to invade where you can’t get a decent cuppa tea.”


“You’re insane,” Sam says.


“Might be, yeah,” the Doctor agrees. “Been called a lot worse.”


“Aliens?” sputters Sam, “There’s no such thing! Dean and I would have run across something—someone would have substantiated the alien angle already.”


“What is it with you lot?” Rose says, “Can’t ever take things on faith?”


Dean flashes her one of his most charming smiles, all teeth and dimples. Sam tries not to roll his eyes. “If you’d seen half the things I have, you don’t need to take much on faith.”


“You’ve probably met plenty of aliens,” Rose teases, eyes flitting to the doctor just for a second. “Just don’t know how to look.”


“And that thing last night,” the Doctor finishes, “was definitely alien.”


“Back me up here, Dean,” Sam pleads. “It was a werewolf.”


Dean shrugs, takes a long sip of his coffee and eyes the Doctor. “Does silver kill it?”


“Well,” the doctor frowns. “I suppose…”


“Then it’s a werewolf.”


“Typical human mentality,” the Doctor tells Rose. “You people, never ready to accept anything you can rationalize away.”


“Hey!” Dean says. “Sitting right here!”


“Look,” Sam says rationally, “either way, the thing’s dangerous. And I’m guessing we’d be better off hunting this thing together. It’ll save us from accidentally putting a bullet in one of you.”


“That happen before?” Rose asks.


Dean gives her a wide, devilish grin. “Every good job has its danger. That’s what makes it so much fun.”


Sometimes, Sam really worries about his brother.

_______________________________________________________________________


When the moon rises, they set out together. Four of them even though they divide naturally into pairs: Sam and Dean, the Doctor and Rose.


“I don’t get those two,” Dean says. “I mean come on, what’s their angle.”


Sam eyes the couple, the Doctor still grinning brightly, with a hand clasped tightly around Rose’s. Neither had brought a weapon. The Doctor had refused on “moral high ground” while Rose admitted to not knowing how to work a shotgun.


And to top it off, they were both very British.


All in all, things were just weird.


“They’re too happy,” Dean says. “Look at them, they remind me of tourists. Everyone’s got a reason for starting this job. They’re the first ones I’ve seen that I believe do it because it’s fun.”


“You think this is fun,” Sam challenges.


“Yeah, but c’mon man, not like them. You don’t see me bouncing around and smiling on hunts. When you get down to it, this job is life or death. Sure we meet the occasional adrenaline junkies, but…” He shakes his head. “Sam, aliens?”


Sam laughs. “I know. Insane.”


“Tell me about it. I just wished they would have grabbed a gun or two. I feel like I’m baby sitting. No matter how much they know, they’re not hunters.”


“I dunno,” Sam says, staring at the two in front of them. “I’ve got a feeling they can handle themselves.”


“Rose said they where they were staying in someplace called the Tardis.”


“That’s weird,” Sam replies, “we’ve been through town. Would’ve notices something with a name like that.”


“And what the hell kind of name is the Doctor anyway?” Dean continues, on a roll now. “He might as well call himself John Doe. I mean what do we know about the two of them? How do we know we can trust them?”


The shadows flicker. The Doctor freezes in his tracks, an increasingly familiar smile spreading across his features. He turns to Rose. “The werewolf,” he whispers as if completely fascinated by the very concept.


Before Sam or Dean can react, the Doctor and Rose are gone, disappearing into the depths of the forest at a run. Dean swears loudly and creatively and draws his gun. Sam falls into step behind his brother.


The forest seems denser then it had the night before, the trees packed close together, moonlight filtering weakly though the branches allowing and only the barest light illuminates the forest.


“Rose!” Dean calls. “Doctor!” He waits for a long second and adds, “Amateurs.” Sam very nearly starts laughing.


Of course that would have been entirely inappropriate as the situation was not the least bit humorous. It, as Dean had said, is life and death and he’s seen far too much death for this lifetime.


Dean turns around slowly on the spot. Sam follows his gaze.


“They can’t just have disappeared,” Sam whispers, “that’s imposs—”


A flash of white invades his vision.


And then nothing.

________________________________________________________________________


It’s the smell of antiseptic that wakes him, followed almost immediately by the Doctor’s overly cheery voice. “Hello there Sammy boy!”


Sam cracks open an eye, and for a moment all he can see is that same blinding white. Then slowly, the Doctor’s face swims into focus. “My name’s Sam,” he mutters.


“Sorry?”


“It’s nothing,” Sam says again, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “It’s just Dean, he—” Sam looks around. They’re in his hotel room, sunlight’s leaking through the open window, the clock on the bedstand reads 1:12. “How did you get in here? Where’s Dean? Did we get the werewolf?”


“Dean helped us get you back,” the Doctor answers. “He and Rose went out to grab a bite and it was an alien.”


“Right,” says Sam, still slightly daze.


“Dean,” the Doctor repeats a second or two later. “Dean and Sammy, Sam and Dean.” He pauses, eyeing Sam carefully. “That’s not Sam and Dean Winchester is it?”


“Yeah,” says Sam, rubbing at the back of his head. “Heard of us?”


“Heard of you?” The Doctor exclaims, eyes wide. “World famous you two are. Absolutely brilliant. Stuff of legends.”


“So I’m guessing you saw the footage about the bank heist,” Sam says. “Believe me, being wanted by the FBI is not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.”


“They’ll come round,” the Doctor says with a measure of authority that takes Sam by surprise. There’s an uncanny intensity about his eyes. It’s the first time Sam remembers seeing him without a smile. “Things don’t stay dark forever.” The somber tone leaks out of the Doctor’s voice before Sam has the chance to process what it might mean. “Took a nasty knock back there. Didn’t know there was another psychic in the group or I would have been more careful. Sorry.. You might be a bit disoriented for a day or so, but it’ll fade. Bit of an unpleasant side effects but nothing too dangerous. Still, best not tackle any beasties until Thusrday or so.”


Sam blinks. “How did--?”


But at that moment Dean and Rose burst into the room, both of them laughing.


“Where have you two been?” the Doctor asks.


“Out for chips,” Roses says.


“Fries,” Dean corrects. “This country they’re French fries.”


“French fries,” the Doctor repeats, wrinkling his nose. “I’ll never understand you lot, fried, yes, but French? Most definitely not.”


“Sammy!” Dean says, as if only just noticing his brother was awake. “Welcome back!”


Sam glares. “You and me are going to have a long talk when this is over.”


Dean makes a face like he’d rather face another dozen werewolves than have that talk, but he nods anyway. The Doctor notices the exchange and reaches up to rub his neck. “Well, me and Rose best be off. Places to be, people to save, yeah.”


He stands up. Sam notices that he’s still wearing the same suit. Blue pinstripes. It’s still perfectly clean, immaculate even. Sam doesn’t know how that’s even possible.


The Doctor crosses the room and shakes Dean’s hand. “Dean Winchester!” he says, with his usual maniac grin. “Absolute pleasure to have met you.”


Rose stands up on her toes and gives him a small kiss on the cheek. She takes the Doctor’s hand in hers and they start moving out the door.


The last thing Sam hears before the pair disappears is Rose’s voice drifting back through the motel’s cramped hallway. “Reminds me of Jack that one does.”


Sam stares at his brother. “What happened to not trusting them?”


Dean shrugs. “Well they saved your sorry ass. I figured they deserved the benefit of the doubt. Seemed nice enough. Weird as anything, but mostly harmless. As harmless as hunters ever get.”


“And the alien?” Sam asks. “The one we were hunting.”


Dean folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the doorframe. “There’s no such thing.”


Neither of them look out the window to see the disappearing blue box, but they both hear the strange pulsing and wonder…

(END)