Not Just A Box

Preface:   This is a pretty detailed fanfic, with references to the universes of both Supernatural and Doctor Who, anyways, the basics are, the Doctor is a time-traveling, human-looking alien with a ship that looks like a blue police phone booth, who has lived many lives (he regenerates or renews himself by changing appearance and personality) in this story the character is his eleventh incarnation, as played by Matt Smith.  Sam and Dean are from the world of Supernatural, a pair of brothers who spend their lives on the road in Dean's car, the Impala, fighting monsters of every persuasion, and often fighting each other too. Sam and Dean have learned over the course of so many creatures trying to kill them, and the people they love, to be very distrustful of anything or anyone out of the ordinary.   The Doctor, contrastingly, is a pacifist, yet he too has lost many people he cares about over the course of his numerous lives.    I got the idea for the story from thinking just what would happen if they met, since they have a lot in common in terms of the burden of defending humanity from awful creatures, yet very different approaches to how they do that. 

.................

Sam sat in the driver's seat of the Impala, gazing across the sun-scorched earth of the August fields. Dean was off hours, with some girl, leaving Sam alone, alone with his thoughts, a little too much time to think. It had been a quiet week, but he knew that never lasted--

Nope. It never did.

He could feel something in the air moments before it started. The crackle of an eerie force as the wind picked up, out of nowhere-- a feeling that made him instinctively nervous, set on edge. As a hunter, he didn't run from that feeling.

Nope. He reached for his sidearm with one hand, and the EMF detector with the other.

As he was opening the car door, the noise started.

He stood, feeling his hair fly wildly in the increasing flurry of wind, shielding his eyes as great whorls of dust rose from the epicenter of the windstorm, a bare spot on the path about 50 feet ahead of him.

The EMF detector was whining in his left hand, the needle dancing from zero to blazing with the vibration of an odd rhythm--it was like a pulse he thought, at first, only in the atmosphere itself.

Yet, it grew stronger, louder, crackling in and out of existence like the bass of a car's subwoofers a block a way.

But no, then came a hiss, a screech.

He dropped the EMF detector, covering his ears with his left hand and arm, clamping his firearm in a ready stance with his right.

The screeching became a grinding, whining, grating as a flicker of royal blue pulsated at the epicenter of the dust storm. Pulsated. Then, quivering, it materialized. A box, the size of a phone booth. It was blue--a blue phone booth size box--which read in block letters around the top---"police call box."

He approached, his weapon ready, digging through his mind at what it might be.

The oddity of it defied normal monsters...

Something more like a Trickster, or a tulpa....

Yet, neither of those felt quite right. Why would a tulpa be out there, and....hadn't the one Trickster they knew been the late Gabriel?

No, he decided, this was some new evil.

He was only a few steps from the box when the door burst open, smoke pouring out. He coughed, aiming into the green-black haze of the phone box as a sputtering figure appeared from its depths.

"Show yourself," Sam warned, gun aimed at the stranger.

"You know, it's quite alright. You don't need to shout," replied the figure in its British accent as it emerged from the haze--a pair of ingenious brown eyes set in a grinning face of a man in a disheveled suit.

The man smirked a bit, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, as he said to Sam in an unhurried way,"Relax, I'm unarmed."

Sam shifted, taking a step closer, replying, "I'll be the judge of that."

The man made a face at Sam as a splash of liquid dribbled down his jacket-front, sent from a squeeze-bottle in Sam's possession.

"Really, was that quite necessary?" the man quipped.

"Can't be too careful," Sam replied, as he checked the stranger over for weapons.

Sam's search was rewarded when he felt a bulge of something metallic in the man's jacket pocket, which he grabbed, much to the irritation of the subject of his frisking.

"Hey! Careful, that's my screwdriver you're holding!" The man sounded substantially more annoyed than worried.

Sam, puzzled, turned it over in his hand.

"You mean this thing?"

"Yes, it's my screwdriver." The stranger from the phone box sounded particularly self-satisfied at Sam's puzzlement.

Sam squinted at the metallic pen-sized gadget, muttering to himself,

"Yeah, sure..."

He stood examining it, "Yeah, you just stay right there. Don't move."

After a long moment, the man said, "You know, I'd like it back," reaching for it.

"Hey!" Sam snapped, lifting his gun to point at the man again, "I told you not to move. You know, you have some explaining to do. For starters, what the heck are you?"

The strange man stepped back to lean against the side of the phone box, a look of amusement crossing his face.

"Now, why would I tell you that?"

"I may not know what you are, but we can see how you like bullets."

"No, not particularly fond of bullets. So, how about a deal?"

"No deals," Sam snapped, mind reeling.

Demon? How?..the holy water-borate solution should have shown something. That, and a demon wouldn't mind the gun....

''OK, OK. Could you put that thing away?" The man raised both hands in a look-I'm-unarmed-shrug, and waved his hand at the gun.

Sam lowered his weapon, a look of reluctance crossing his face.

"Why should I trust you that much?"

"Really? You've got my only tool. My screwdriver. It's a very special screwdriver--and this--this is not my idea of a good conversation. That whole gun thing ruins it. I was just suggesting a trade, that's all. I will tell you who I am if you tell me when and where we are."

"Well, who, what are you? Did the Angels send you?"

"No. Which angels are we talking about? The Weeping Angels?"

Sam rolled his eyes, muttering. "Weeping angels? No, no. Did Crowley?"

"What's a Crowley? It doesn't sound very pleasant." The stranger grinned oddly.

"No, it's--he's--not pleasant at all. But, if you really don't know who he is..." Sam sighed.

"Then you're wondering who sent me." The stranger finished.

Sam was slightly startled at the man's aptitude for guessing his thoughts.

"It's alright. I'll tell you, spare you the bother. Nobody sent me. I brought myself. Well, more like crashed here. My ship-- she's a bit under the weather." The stranger stroked the side of the box beside him, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Anyway, how I got here aside, we should start again--no guns. Hello, I'm the Doctor. And you are--"

"Sam." He replied grudgingly. Sam wasn't exactly sure what the man was playing at, but he wasn't buying it. He tensed his hold on his gun, which was still in his hand, ready for whatever might come next.

"Hello, Sam."

"Okay, I don't know what you're trying to do, but I'm still waiting for an answer."

"Yes, of course. What I am. I'm from far away."

"Could you be a little more specific?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well, I could ask you for your end of the deal--I still don't know where or when I am."

"Fine. Fine. We're in Kansas. It's 2013. And, you came in, what, your ship?"

"Yes, my ship, the Tardis. We've gone lots of places together."

"You and your Tardis, you're from--"

"Far, far away. I'd tell you but you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

"Alright. What harm can it do--no one remembers me anyways--I'm the last of my kind. From the planet Gallifrey.

I'm a Time Lord."

"So you're-you're a god?" Sam flinched at the man's pronunciation. A god; the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Especially given their annoying powers and taste for people.

"No, not exactly."

He reached for the archangel sword in the back of his belt. He'd never tried one on a god, but it couldn't hurt. In the least, he could cut a stake from something with it...

"You know, I'd really not mind a bit if you could put that knife you're getting out away."

"Sorry, 'fraid not," Sam replied, swinging his arm with the sword around to point it menacingly at the Doctor.

"Not until you tell me what you are."

"I've BEEN telling you! Augh, humans--"

"So you're not a god, but you're not human, either."

"No! I'm a Time Lord. There's a difference!"

"And that means...?"

"I'm what you'd call an alien."

"You've got to be kidding."

"No, Sam, I'm really not. And if you'd give me back my screwdriver, I could show you."

Sam lowered his sword, grimacing in indecision. If this guy was tricking him, this could be a big mistake. Why would an alien carry around a screwdriver? If he even really was an alien.... Yet, for a reason he couldn't begin to identify, some part of him wanted to trust him. OK, it was the eyes. He had honest eyes.

"Fine. But don't try anything funny," Sam said, reluctantly handing the man the gadget.

"Thank you. Now, you see, this is no ordinary screwdriver."

The Doctor squeezed a button.

Sam watched in amazement as the device began to hum, a blue light pulsing--

"It's sonic. And---"

The man pointed the device at himself, activating some sort of setting, Sam realized, as the sound it was making changed.

"If you listen closely, you'll hear--"

Sam's jaw dropped.

"Heartbeats." they said at once.

"But it's two."

"Yes, my heartbeats. Because Time Lords--we have two hearts."

"Well," Sam muttered, still marveling at the thud of the man's hearts he heard through the device. " Maybe you are a, uh,Time Lord."

"Yes. And, now that you believe me, might we continue our conversation on the more amiable terms of you not trying to kill me?"

"Alright." Sam sighed, sheathing the sword.

"But don't think you're just going to walk away. I've got questions for you."

"Very well. As have I for you."

Sam smirked. This guy seemed to think himself invulnerable. A bit like the Angels, only a little less irritable. More good-natured. He was actually capable of sarcasm, worrying about his precious gadget while a gun was pointed at him. Well, considering that, maybe just crazy.

"Sure. After you answer mine. Can you die?"

"Well, as you can see, I haven't, yet, that is. Not really, at least. Anyways---answer mine--"

"Is Marilyn Monroe hot?"

"Uh, yeah!" Sam laughed.

"Good to hear. She certainly was when she dragged me to the chapel!"

Sam scoffed. Who was this 'Doctor', and if he was serious about having hooked up with Marilyn....well, he didnt look old enough to have met her. So time travel, falling out of the sky, not an angel, definitely not Leviathan or demon....but not minding the sunlight like a vampire.....and he claimed not a god. So what was left....maybe he really was a Time Lord. Whatever the hell that was....

" Ah, moving on. Was there an invasion of London a few years ago during Christmas?"

"No." Sam looked at him, puzzled.

"Hmm. That, paired with the fact that it smells decidedly more spicy here, I'll say this is a parallel universe. Again..."

"Wait. You mean like a different world? You've done that too?" Sam was suddenly excited.

"Too, meaning that you have? I'd never have guessed many ordinary humans would have that experience," replied the Doctor.

"Well, we're not exactly what you'd call ordinary, me and my brother, that is."

"Interesting. Care to tell me more about yourselves?"

"You wouldn't believe half of it." Sam said.

"Care to find out? Because, Sam, I have stories too. Believe me. Quite a few stories."

"Would they involve the apocalypse?" Sam wasn't entirely sure why he was suddenly spilling everything to this guy, but there was just a feeling he got from him, now that they were talking. Something ancient, tired, yet.... deeply true. Something trustworthy.

"No, but the end of time and the universe, yes."

"There's an end of time?"

"Where I'm from, there is."

"Well, here we've had our share of fending off the end of the world. Unfortunately, it seems to keep coming back to bite us in the ass."

"That's rather unfortunate. Does yours have teeth?"

"Yeah. Big teeth. Whenever we get rid of one, new ones come. " Sam replied, his mind flashing to the various moments of destruction, pain, and desperation he'd seen through the last eight years. Big teeth was an understatement. Try kill you, rip your soul out, and spit you out again alive teeth. No escape, not even in death... Yeah, those were some infinitely big teeth.

"Do you ever tire of it?" Sam saw the Doctor's expression change to a look of something like sadness. It seemed almost as if he was hinting at something he found...shameful....Sam decided. He was disclosing in some way, something he was ashamed of. Ashamed...of being tired?

"All the time. But we can't just quit. It won't let us."

"Won't let you. Oh, you know, don't you? It never does let you quit. Humanity always needs saving. Always needs someone to fix it...." The Doctor trailed off.

"Well, yeah."

"And that falls to us." The Doctor gave Sam a knowing look.

"Us?"

"Worlds other than yours also require saving." Whatever depth there had been was gone. He was grinning again, as if something Sam had said was funny.

"No, you said 'us.' Why say that?." He was trying to trick him into moving on, he thought. No, he deserved to know what this meant. Needed to know. They weren't even the same species, or from the same universe. How on earth could that warrant an 'us'?

"Well, it's odd, really, like finding a stranger that looks like you in an unexpected place. We aren't quite so different as you might think, Sam. I mean, you're human, but you feel to me much older than that. Like you've lived more than you want to live. Like someone who has died."

"How do you know that?" He was stupid, letting himself be taken in by whatever this man projected. He knew too much....he was spilling his guts without even realizing it. Sam put his hand on his gun.

"What are you, a psychic alien?"

"Well, yes. Although being fully psychic, the telepathy, can be really quite painful. Last time--poor Craig--gave us both splitting headaches."

Headaches. Nosebleeds. All the blood. Withdrawal... He somehow couldn't see this man's version of psychic ability as being what his had been. And he'd never really been telepathic, anyways...

"So you're psychic. But you're not reading my mind. So how do you know?" Sam drew his gun with a shaking hand, holding it in what he hoped looked like a casual way pointed at the ground. Best to project confidence....even if what was going on was as far from it as possible. Why did this guy bother him so much? It wasn't like vamps, or demons, or even angels....

"Sam, I'm not trying to scare you. You don't have to hold your silly little gun. I don't have any weapons. I don't do weapons. I don't need weapons. And I can tell about you because we're a bit alike. I've died before, in a way, at least. I don't just die. Not like humans do. It works differently for Time Lords. But I know how it is. That's why I said 'us.''

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Sam, even if I don't die, I don't want you to shoot me. And I don't want you to think you have to. Killing isn't good, Sam. Then, I think you probably know that, too. You even try not to, when you think you can."

"I don't want to kill you, but you're not human. You're not like anything I've ever met before. And that usually means dangerous."

"Relax, Sam. You care about humans, and I'm not dangerous to humans. Daleks, sure. Cybermen? Any day. Because of what they do to humans. But you humans, no, you'll live to populate the stars. At least in my universe, you do. Yours, I don't know. You seem to have other forces at play."

Other forces? Heaven and Hell....battleground, Earth....

"Other forces like you can't imagine."

"Really? I'd be interested to see if it's so unlike what I can imagine," he replied.

"We keep coming back to the same question," Sam replied, both amused and wearied," Of why I should trust you."

"Well, Sam, if you let me move from here, let me help you, I think you'd find plenty of reasons."

"Why would you want to help me?"

"I've been telling you, Sam, we're really a lot alike. And I like people. We're on the same side."

"Fine. Fine. But, tell me something, since you're from somewhere else, what's with the whole box falling from the sky thing?"

"She's my Tardis. Time And Relative Dimension in Space. You really should see her, although she's a bit under the weather right now. Repair protocols engaging. We could have a tiny peek, though. Come on! I think you'll find it quite informative."

The Doctor snapped his fingers, and just like that, the door opened. Sam chuckled. Showy much?

"Come on, Sam! First human in your universe to ever, ever see this!"

"I really don't--"

"Come on, Sam, I insist!"

"Fine."

Sam reluctantly followed the man through the door into the box, which was---

Definitely not a box.

...........

Chapter Two: 

https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work.php?id=115427