Title: Demons and Blue Boxes
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, The Tenth Doctor
Spoilers:None (chronologically, this piece may be Season 1 or 2 for Supernatural; Series 3 of Doctor Who (and, conversely, sort of Series 1 of Torchwood)
Genre: Crossover, adventure, ret-con
Warning: Crossover, wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey- stuff.
Word Count: 2105
Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros. Television, Wonderland Sound and Vision (in association with), and Supernatural Films. Doctor Who is owned by the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) (BBC Wales). Some dialog is (c) the episode 'Blink' of Doctor Who, and not mine but can be seen here. 
Summary:Sam and Dean come back from a hunt, to discover a strange man with a mysterious blue box in their motel room.

Banner Resources:  Brushes: obsidiandawn.com,   Font: dafont.com, tardis and actors via publicity shoots

            The door swung shut with a bang, black metal glimmering in the dim streetlamps. Two tall figures stepped away, steps weary with fatigue.  “I’m getting to old for this, Sam.” Dean Winchester grumbled, picking at a whole in his worn leather jacket. “That shifter got a hit in.”

                “No body’s perfect,” Sam said, rubbing his dislocated shoulder with a wince. The two fell into comfortable silence, ever watchful of their surroundings, while they made their way to the motel room. It was Sam who pushed open the door, casually doing a sweep of the room while Dean dragged in their gear bag. But, there was something off. The room was smaller than it had been when they left . “Dean?”

                “So, I’m starved, and thinkin’ pizza,” he said, locking the door and spinning, “what’re you in the mood for…why is there a blue box in our room?”

                Sam resisted the urge to smack his brother, instead drawing his gun. Dean mirrored him, the duffle dropping to the ground with a thud. “I think it’s a police box.” Sam announced, stepping forward cautiously.

                Dean cocked an eyebrow. “A police box. Ok…what is it, and why is it in here?”

                Any response was lost, as that was the moment that the door opened. Their guns snapped up, as the tall, lanky man in a duster stepped out. “Oh…hello!” He said, sounding surprised and excited at the same time. “And wot do we have here?” He stepped forward, and the brothers both clicked off the safeties. “Oh, guns. I don’t like guns.” He pulled a metal thing out of his coat, and aimed it at the guns, sweeping it over the boys; with a whir and a blue light it felt like they were being scanned. He peered at it, as if there was some sort of read out, before he clicked it off, and stashed it back into his coat, smirking.

                Dean squeezed the trigger, a shot to the strange man’s knee lined up—“What the hell did you do to my gun?!” He yelled, hastily examining his favorite weapon for any signs of injury. Beside him, Sam also pulled the trigger, looking fascinated more than startled.

                The man laughed to himself, and started taking in the room, looking around with curiosity. “Wot’s this?” He said, moving towards their map. By his expression, he already knew.

                Dean realized where he was heading, and moved to cut him off. “I’m more interested in who you are, besides a Limey.” He snarled, holstering his useless weapon.

                The man seemed to understand that he was just as dangerous without his weapon as with. “Oh, yes,” He patted down his long coat and suit jacket, retrieving an ID wallet with a little ‘ah ha’. He paused for a moment before flipping it open and declaring, “Sorry, I’m with Scotland Yard. I was visiting and the local sheriff mentioned the FBI following the murders. Thought I’d pop in. I’m the Doctor, and you are…” He extended his hand.

                Dean stared down at the ID for a long moment, before glancing back up at the Doctor and passing the ID to his brother. “I’m Agent Ford, and that is Agent Hamill,” He said, accepting the proffered hand.

                The Doctor’s face was unreadable. “Right…” He shook Dean’s hand, and then went back to examining the walls.

                However, Sam was frowning at the paper, before fixing his gaze on the Doctor. “This paper is blank.”

                “What?” Dean spun, putting as much space between him and the Doctor as he could. “How is it blank? It was his ID!”

                “It’s psychic paper,” The Doctor said, looking bemused, “It shows you wot you want to see. Or wot I want you to see…but if you have some measure of psychic talent, it doesn’t work. So tell me,” He said, snatching the ID folio back, “Mister Sam Winchester and your older brother, Dean,” he snapped the folio shut, and tucked it back in his coat, grinning at them, “wot exactly, is a ‘Hunter’?”

                “I think you better tell us who you are first.” Dean growled, pulling a knife from his boot.

                The Doctor raised an eyebrow, “I told you, I’m the Doctor.”

                “Yeah?” Sam queried, deftly pulling his machete from the duffle, “Doctor who?”

                “Exactly. Oh, look at the time! Come on, you two, we’ve got to get going! There’s placed to go, things to see! Allons-y!” He spun on his heal, his jacket billowing behind him as he pushed the police box door open, stepping inside. Only, he didn’t step back out.

                “Sam…he’s hiding in a box.” Dean lowered his knife looking exasperated. “He’s hiding in a giant blue box in the middle of our motel room! Where the hell does he think he’s going?” Sam shrugged, looking like he was about to answer, when the door cracked open again.

                The Doctor popped his head out, crying, “Well, come on!”

                “I really don’t like this guy.” Dean grumbled, and, with a sidelong glance at Sam, crossed the room and pushed open the door.

                Immediately, Dean was crashing into Sam attempting to get back out the door. But Sam was already in the doorway, and the entire floor lurched, tossing the two of them to the catwalk. “There’s a catwalk.” Sam noted, looking surprised. “It’s not big enough to have a…oh.” He fell silent, looking around with eyes that were nearly popping from his skull. “Oh.”

                “This isn’t possible.” Dean protested, stubbornly shutting his eyes. “It can’t be bigger on the inside.”

                “Ah, but it can!” The Doctor announced, dashing around the control board, adjusting the dials and levers for departure. “This is the TARDIS—Time and Relative Dimension in Space—and my people built her.” He sounded proud.

                If there was one thing Dean could get behind, it was pride in the method of transport. “Built?”

                “Oh yeah, and I’ve had to rebuild her a couple of times too…” He looked sad, but then immediately moved on, “We are needed, my friends! Somewhere, sometime, we’re needed! Oh, don’t touch that, Sam.”

                Sam pulled his hand back from the hand in some sort of stasis chamber, and frowned. “So this is a space ship?”

                “Yes.” The Doctor replied, not looking away from the screen, “And a time machine.”

                “Well, it’s better than a delorian.” Dean quipped, standing and finally taking in the strange architecture. “But why the blue box?”

                “Chameleon Circuit.” He said, only his trainers visible, “Blends the TARDIS into her surroundings… got stuck in London in 1963…haven’t fixed it, I kinda like it, don’t you?’ He was lost behind a cloud of smoke.

                Sam shook his head. “It can’t be a time machine… time’s a straight line, you can’t go backwards.”

                “That’s not true.” The Doctor said, now somewhere below them, attempting to do something with that small, metal wand of his. “People assume that time is a straight progression of cause to effect but actually from a non-linear, non-subjected viewpoint it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly timey whimey. ...stuff” He appeared from under the floor, grinning as the engines gave a great, Vwooorp! Vwooorp! Vwooorp!, and the floor gave a giant lurch before settling down. “Ah, there we are!”

                “I want a mother fucking explanation!” Dean yelled, slamming his fist on one of the curving arches that surrounded the control room. The Doctor paused, and then snapped his fingers. The doors at the far end of the control room sprang open.  With a backwards glance at the Doctor, Dean nodded for Sam to follow, and headed to the door, cautiously. “Where the fuck is our motel room!” Dean yelled, running out of the box. Sam followed him, panic on his features. After a long moment, smirking, the Doctor followed them out. “This is not…this isn’t… this isn’t Milwaukee!” Dean exclaimed, looking completely at a loss without something to shoot. Sam was staring around, looking awestruck.

                “Noo…” The Doctor said, stepping up next to the brothers. “This is London.”

                Dean looked at the Doctor, “London?”

                “London.” He confirmed, nodding. “1883, actually. November 2nd.”

                Sam and Dean froze. “No.”

                “Yes.” The Doctor replied, looking mildly alarmed at their sudden unison speak. “You need to see this.”

                “We’re in the street! What are we supposed to—” Fire exploded out of a window above them, and Dean ducked, looking up in alarm.

                In the smoke, a shadow-y figure looked out over the street, it’s yellow eyes searching…

                “He can’t see you,” The Doctor said, leaning against his blue box. “It’s actually quite technical—all these things with temporal fields and perception filters which actually are something like sunglasses but without the sun—but basically, his gaze slides right past you. He sees you, but…you don’t register.” He smiled. “Clever.”

                “Why?” Sam’s voice was weak, and tears glittered in his eyes.

                “Because you have to know,” The Doctor said, his voice gravely serious, “You have to know that you two, you two right here, you’re the ones who stop it. Against all odds, you two stupid, brave, naive, brilliant humans are going to beat it, and survive.” By the end, he was grinning.

                “You didn’t need to tell me that,” Dean growled, “we’re gonna kill that thing.”

                “Oh, but it’s so much bigger!” The Doctor exclaimed, gesturing for them to follow him back into the TARDIS. “The next few years are going to be bloody brilliant!” The doors slammed shut behind the two Winchesters, and they both jumped, still not entirely sure what was going on. “You two,” the Doctor began again, “Are going to change the course of history. And no one, anywhere, has done that before. Well, me, but…” He trailed off, pulling levers and tweaking buttons. The ship gave a great lurch, and Sam and Dean had to grab hold of the architecture to keep balance.  And then, all it once, it stopped. “Ok! Out here!” He started running towards the doors, Sam and Dean just trying to keep up!

                “Whoa!” Dean tripped over the bed, landing heavily on the mattress. Sam caught sight of his fall just before he collided, and managed to change directions in time to swerve heavily into the wall. “How are we back? Dean yelled, somewhat muffled by the bedding.

                “Unless we never left.” Sam said, glaring accusingly at the Doctor.

                Who, for his part, looked completely unashamed. “Wotever makes you feel better,” He smiled. “But, I have to be off!”

                Sam and Dean turned, ready to prevent the Doctor’s departure, demand more answers, but he was already inside his mysterious blue box, peeking out of them from the door opened outwards, though the sign beside it declared “Push to Open”.

                “Wait, so that’s it?” Dean asked, feeling, almost jipped at the entire encounter. “You mind-whammy us or possibly time-warp us, and then you go?”

                The Doctor paused, smiling enigmatically. “We’ll meet again—well, for me, it’ll be the first time—“

                “How?” Sam questioned, before it came to him. “Wibbly-wobbly—“

                “Timey-whimy. Yes.” The Doctor said, grinning. “But before we meet, you have to remember. They're coming. Angels.” His voice had gone deadly serious. “The Weeping Angels—not to be confused with the other angels…Though, possibly the advice might work there too... Where was I? Yes! The angels are coming for you but listen; your life could depend on this.” He paused, making sure he had their complete attention, “Don't blink, don't even blink! Blink and you're dead. They're fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink!” He stepped back, giving them one last look before sighing, and pushing the door closed. “Good luck.”

                The door shut, and the light on the top of the box began flashing, with the same Vwooorp! Vwooorp! Vwooorp!, the box fading from their view as a wind whipped the papers from the walls, scattering them around the room. And, with a final vweep, vweep, vweep, it was gone.

                Sam and Dean stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where the blue box had stood.

                “The blue box—“

                “Just disappeared. Yeah.” Sam finished, shaking his head. “I’m not sure what just happened…I mean, was that Yellow Eyes?”

                Dean made a noise of disbelief, “I don’t see how. You can’t time travel.” He stopped though, thinking. “I mean, it’s impossible, right?”

                The two looked back to where the box had stood. And then, both shook their heads, exclaiming, “Nah!” The next day they were back on the road, looking for their next lead…and trying to forget the strange Doctor and his vanishing Blue Box.

The End…

…or is it?