Basic plot premise thingy:

AU in which the Whoniverse and the Supernatural universe are one and the same.

Things are also AU-ish in Dean's story, which will be explained later.


Chapter One:

September 29th, 2005. Palo Alto, California.

Sam Winchester can't shake the feeling he's being watched. For the past two days, he's found himself glancing over his shoulder between classes, and walking a little faster than necessary as he makes his way across the Stanford campus. It's late September and already unusually chilly, which only sets him more on-edge. A whole slew of supernatural creatures prefer the cold.

This morning he was so unnerved that he broke one of his rules, slipping a vial of holy water in his pocket as he left for class. While he kept trying to tell himself it was nothing, he couldn't ignore his gut instinct. It was too strong. So even though it goes against his code of forcing-himself-to-live-a-normal-life, he feels comforted when he touches his hand to his pocket and feels its bulge. Reassured, he relaxes. Forcing himself to concentrate, he lowers his eyes to his law textbook, returning his hand to his highlighter and pushing thoughts of monsters out of his mind.

The library's mostly empty, the way Sam prefers it. He's in his own quiet corner, too, up on the top floor. A study table, surrounded by bookshelves and silence. It's perfect.

It's quiet, too. There's still a couple weeks until midterms, so most students haven't started studying in earnest yet. He's getting an early start, 'cause he can't afford to do badly. He's trying for law school. Plus, he needs the extra time. His law textbook is so damn dense that he finds himself rereading the same sentence four times. It doesn't help that the sentence is half a paragraph long, and uses some terms so technical that Sam's never even heard them.

The library is quiet enough that when Sam hears the footsteps, he looses his train of thought and looks up. He's expecting it to be Jess- she told him she'd meet him for a late dinner when she finished her evening class- but it's not.

It's Dean.

He swallows and opens his mouth, ready to say something but not sure of what to say. He wants to be angry, because whythehelldidn'tDeancall? and whythehellishehere? but the expression on his brother's face silences him.

Dean's mouth is open, just like Sam's, and his lips are twitching, like he's trying to speak but can't find words. He looks terrible, a million years older than the last time Sam saw him a couple years ago, and why are there tears in his eyes? The man standing before him looks nothing like the immature older brother he left behind.

"Dean?" Sam says finally, quietly. He's trying to keep his voice level, but doesn't really succeed. "What are you doing here?"

His brother doesn't answer, only takes a few quick steps towards Sam and hugs him, suddenly and forcibly. Sam stiffens, blinking at the bookshelves behind Dean. After a too-long pause, he hugs Dean back, a little awkwardly. He clears his throat. "Why are you here?"

Dean releases him, finally, holding Sam at arm's length and scanning his face. When he finally speaks, his voice is deeper and rougher than Sam's ever heard before, and brimming with emotion.

"You need to get out of here, Sammy. We're going. I know this isn't making any sense, and I know you want to stay in school and graduate and go to law school, and marry Jess, and have an apple-pie, white picket fence, apple pie kinda life but you can't. I have to get you out of here." Dean drops his hands from his brother's shoulders and makes a move to start gathering up Sam's papers.

"Hey, stop that. And don't call me Sammy," he says, squinting at his brother in confusion. "And what're you, crazy, Dean? I'm fine here. I'm happy. I won't have you dragging me back into a hunter's life. I told you, I made my decision. It's not like I'm not glad to see you, but why are you even here?" He has to make a conscious effort to keep his voice low.

Dean blinks and swallows, and for a bizarre instant, he looks like he's on the verge of tears. The look vanishes as soon as it appeared, though, and Sam can't be sure he saw it.

"Sammy- Sam, can we go somewhere to talk? I need... I need to explain a bunch of crap to you, and this isn't exactly a good place."

"Fine." Sam sighs. "Okay. Lemme pack up my stuff. We can go to a bar and talk." He starts putting his stuff together when he turns back to Dean, frowning, and asks, "Wait, is Dad here? Is that why you're trying to get me outside?"

"What? No," Dean says quickly. "He doesn't know I'm here."

Sam relaxes visibly. "So where is he?" He asks as he begins shoving his papers and his textbook in his backpack and slinging it over a shoulder. He pushes his chair in, wincing at the loud scrape that breaks the library's quietness, and starts making his way to the exit. Dean follows him.

It takes Dean a full, thoughtful minute to answer his question. "Witches!" he says, sounding strangely victorious. "Hunting witches. Keller, North Dakota," he adds, like an afterthought.

"Why aren't you with him?"

"I'll explain at the bar, okay?"

Sam shrugs. Though he doesn't show it, he's glad to see his brother, even if he does look like crap. He wonders exactly how bad things were that could've aged him so much in so little time.

When they exit the library, Sam frowns, remembering the feeling of being watched, and asks, "Hey, ah, have you been following me?"

"Uh, yeah," Dean says, glancing at his brother uncomfortably. "Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"And you didn't think about calling me to get that information?"

Dean stays quiet.

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Seriously? I've had that creepy prickly back-of-my-neck feeling for three days. I'm carrying holy water in my pocket because of you."

Dean shrugs. "Just making sure. And you should keep that. Better safe than sorry."

"Making sure of what, Dean? What aren't you telling me?"

"I... need a drink," his brother mutters, and Sam rolls his eyes.

The bar is a ten minute walk away, and the remainder of the walk is spent in frustrated silence. Dean barges into his life again, expecting Sam to trust him, and he won't explain anything. Typical of Dean, even after three years. The Palo Alto air is chilly, but since it's late on a weeknight, the sidewalks are mostly empty apart from the brothers.

They get a booth at the bar, which is an older, quieter joint south of campus that didn't specifically cater to the college crowd. Dean asks for a whiskey, and Sam orders a beer. The waitress is hot, and Dean doesn't even flirt with her, so Sam knows something's really wrong. He watches his brother closely, and when the drinks arrive, he waits for Dean to take a sip before saying, "Alright, spill. Tell me why you're here, what's wrong."

Tracing the rim of his glass, his brother takes a deep breath before saying, "I really dunno how to tell you this, Sammy." Sam expects him to continue, but he doesn't, so Sam prompts him.

"Well, you came all the way here, you might as well try." He lets the 'Sammy' slide- Dean looks like he has enough on his mind as it is.

Dean snorts. "Dude, I am trying. You have no idea how many times I've played out this conversation in my head. It's just looney-tunes crazy."

"Lemme guess," Sam says, deadpan. "You're gay."

"Sorry, Sammy. I'm the straight one of the family." He's smiling, though.

"I have a girlfriend." Sam says, before frowning suddenly. "Wait, you already knew that. You mentioned Jess. How did you know her name? Exactly how long have you been following me around for, Dean?"

"Just a couple days. And that's not how I knew. That's not how I know she has a hot Smurf top she sleeps in, either." Dean smirks.

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean, tell me what is going on right now or so help me God, I will-"

"Cool it, Sam. I haven't been spying." He drums his fingers on the table. "Drop the bitch-face, I'm telling the truth. I... Fuck, if I tell you, will you give me time to explain everything before getting your panties in a twist?"

"I'm not gonna get my 'panties in a twist,' Dean. Not unless you've done something to deserve it, at least."

"Okay, okay. Just hear me out, alright, Sam?" He swirls his glass on the table, eying the liquid inside contemplatively before lifting it to his lips and draining the rest of it.

Crossing his arms, Sam tilts his head. "Go on."

"I'm from the future," Dean says, only he says it so quickly, it sounds like one word: I'mfromthefuture.

Of course. Expecting something serious from Dean was stupid, Sam knows, but he wasn't expecting something this stupid.

"I'm outta here," he says, sliding out of the booth.

"No, Sammy, wait, please. Let me explain, okay?" Dean begs.

"You come all the way here for some stupid joke, Dean? I haven't seen you in over three years, and this is what you wanna tell me?" Sam doesn't sit back down, but he doesn't leave, either.

"You said you'd let me explain."

Something in his brother's voice makes him sit back down, and he sighs. "Fine. Explain. Continue." He takes another pull of his beer, and hopes Dean is paying.

"It's true. Like I said, batshit insane, right?" As he speaks, Dean pulls an object out of his jacket pocket and sets it on the table in front of him. It looks like a weird leather cuff, but when Dean fiddles with it and pulls back a flap, it has a computer thing on it, too. "Look. This thing's called a vortex manipulator, and it can go through time."

Sam studies his brother for a long moment. All of this should be a joke, and he wouldn't put it past Dean, except...

They hadn't spoken in six months, and Sam used to have the impression that Dean wouldn't confront him without good reason. Sam can't wrap his head around why Dean would suddenly pop up like this, out of the blue, just to pull a prank on him.

Staring across the table at his brother, Sam finds himself saying, "Okay, Dean. Prove it, and I'll believe you." His brother's face brightens instantly.

Glancing around the nearly empty bar suspiciously, Dean grabs the 'vortex manipulator' and stands. "Bathroom. C'mon. We don't wanna attract attention."

"Alright. Sure." There's only a little sarcasm behind his words.

Sam follows him into the single bathroom, and they lock the door behind them. The lights are dim and it's a little creepy, with cracking paint on the white walls and a dirty sink, but if there's anything the Winchester brothers are used to, it's creepy. As Dean straps the manipulator thing onto his wrist, he glances up at his younger brother and asks, "When do you wanna go? Crossing into your own timeline is apparently a no-no, by the way, so stick to something you haven't lived through." If Dean's still joking about this whole thing, it's a pretty elaborate hoax.

"July twentieth, nineteen sixty nine?" Sam asked, shrugging. Might as well go for something historic. Dean raises his eyebrows, and Sam explains, "The moon landing?"

"I knew that."

"Sure you did."

"Hey, just 'cause you're a college kid now doesn't mean I'm an idiot, bitch."

"Jerk." Sam tries to hide his smile.

Dean punches something into the buttons on his wrist, and they beep in response. "You ready, Sammy?"

"Yeah. Sure. And don't call me that."

Dean can clearly tell Sam doesn't believe him, but he grins wide, takes his brother's hand, and presses a button.

Instantly, the bathroom vanishes.


AN:

This is my very first fanfic ever and I'd appreciate any feedback at all! The Doctor Who themes won't kick in for a few chapters, but they're coming.