This was supposed to be a ficlet, but it somehow ended up as a full-blown multi-chaptered story. I'm not entirely sure how. Anyways, this is a prompt from Tumblr user hufflepuffhoneybadger. I hope y'all enjoy it! The next chapter will be posted (hopefully) sometime soon.

Full Summary: Sam and Dean as children have already encountered many supernatural threats that they helped their dad deal with. A strange angel statue comes as a rude awakening for the two brothers as they are sent to Salem, Massachusetts during the era of mass hysteria known as the Salem Witch Trials. Somewhere in time, a strange man notices something amiss and must travel back in time to stopped the fixed points in time from self-destructing.

Note: Currently, Dean is 10 and Sam is 6.

Dean turned a corner, eyes on the cracked and dirty sidewalk beneath his feet as he and his brother walked home from school. He wasn't really paying attention to anything other than his own thoughts, since today had been a tiring day at school and all he really wanted to do was to go back to their motel room and take a nap.

"D-Dean? What is that?" Sammy asked, his eyes widening as he stared at something over Dean's shoulder.

Dean froze, the fighting skills his father had taught him kicking in as he whirled around, arms up in preparation to defend himself.

As soon as he saw what was behind him, he relaxed. "Sammy, it's just a statue." the ten-year-old boy explained to his younger brother, who was four years his junior.

Sam stared at the statue unblinkingly, slowly shaking his head 'no'.

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, his large green eyes troubled as he examined the statue, which was a stone angel with its hands covering its eyes, like it was crying. Nope, he couldn't see anything weird about it. He told his little brother this, and Sammy continued staring at it, as if he were afraid to take his eyes off of it.

"It wasn't behind you before." Sam whispered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I think your imagination is playing tricks on you, Sammy."

His six-year-old brother huffed, crossing his arms as he stuck his lower lip out in a pout. "It is not! It wasn't there before, I swear!" he protested with a stubborn glare.

"Right." Dean replied, as he turned away from the statue. "C'mon, we'd better get home before Dad gets back from his trip."

Sam reluctantly turned his eyes away from the winged stone figure.

Before Sam and Dean even finished turning around, they disappeared, touched by an Angel.

The first thing Sam did when he reappeared was trip over his own two feet. He squeaked in surprise and pain as he landed on overgrown grass, where there was previously cracked concrete.

"What the- where are we?" He heard his big brother mumble as he helped Sam to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Sam took a look around. He let out a strangled gasp. Where there were once tall buildings and overcrowded streets, there were now endless waves of green grass and a nearly cloudless sky. Now, instead of the air smelling of smog

How did they get in a middle of a field? Last time Sam checked, they were walking by that creepy graveyard on their way home from school...

"Hey , hey mister!" Sammy called, noticing a man walking by leading a huge brown and white cow.

"Sam, don't talk to strangers!" Dean hissed, trying to grab the boy by the arm and pull him back. Sam managed to twist his way out of his grasp, however, and ran up to the man.

The man turned toward Sam as the boy ran closer, Dean following behind him grudgingly. "Hello children, what are you two doing way out here? And shouldn't you be in school?" The man asked, staring at them thoughtfully. Sam shuffled a little so that he was further behind his brother, uncomfortable beneath the stranger's blue-eyed gaze.

The young man was wearing a strange, old-fashioned, threadbare loose-fitting shirt and knee-length pants. Over his shirt was a long vest, and he was also wearing white stockings and black shoes with buckles. On his head was a wide-brimmed straw hat, beneath which Sam could barely see locks of curly black hair, which was pulled back in a low ponytail. His forehead glistened with sweat.

"We're lost." Dean answered, staring sadly at the ground. Sammy stared at Dean, slightly awed. His big brother had always been good at pretending.

"What are your names? Perhaps I know your parents." The man said, taking off his hat to scratch his head.

"My name is Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam." His big brother answered, ruffling his hair playfully. Sammy grumbled, attempting to fix his hair, which was now sticking out in every direction.

"I apologize, I do not know anyone by that name." The man said sadly, putting his hat back on.

"It's okay, Mister. Can you at least tell us where we are?" Dean asked, glancing down at Sammy worriedly.

"Certainly, I'd be happy to help you in any way. After all, we are all God's children, and it is my duty as a servant of God to help other people in any way I can. We are currently a few miles away from Salem, Massachusetts."

A man wearing a light brown trenchcoat over a pinstriped brown suit and, strangely enough, a pair of Converse, was standing in a huge, futuristic-looking room.

The room defied all laws of physics, as it somehow fit inside a blue police telephone box, which are, as you may know, relatively small. Large, pale orange coral-like structures spiralled out of the floor, and a raised metal walkway led from the entrance to the center control panel.

The strange man was running around said control panel, and was, seemingly at random moments, flipping switches, turning knobs, and pressing buttons.

He was startled, however, when a device that looked like a late 20th century open-reel tape recorder began dinging continuously.

"What?" He asked in shock and confusion, his large expressive brown eyes squinting slightly.

He had a British accent, and his strange choice in shoes squeaked on the metal floor as he crossed the room and bent to pick up the strange dinging device. He quickly straightened up, and began fiddling with it until it stopped dinging. He brought it to the control panel and plugged it into one of the many wires hanging from the panel.

Plugging in the strange device brought up various photographs, a series of numbers representing a daye, and a map with a blinking red dot.

"Oh, no, no, no..." He muttered to himself as he ran a long, thin hand through his thick brown hair, which was so messy it looked like it was trying to defy gravity.

"They're not supposed to be in late 1600s Salem, Massachusetts...their timelines are fixed, this shouldn't even be possible...this is not good, very not good...the Salem Witch trials are never a good time period to end up in..."