Disclaimer: I might own the bar. In theory. Probably not.

A/N: This is a scene that's been rolling around in my mind, hope you enjoy it as much as I've been.

A man in a tweed suit and stetson sat at the bar of an out of the way place called the Timely Hunter. looking quite out of place. "No custard, what's the world coming to?" He had walked in with great theatrics, like a hero out of the stories. No one had been impressed. "At least they have some good tea, even if I can't get custard..."

Another man walked in, quietly, nearly invisible in the way he fit perfectly in the setting. He held up a finger as he slid onto a stool a bit away from the man with the stetson. It almost seemed like he had been sitting there forever.

"Hello there, I'm the Doctor." The man in the tweed suit slid onto the stool by the newcomer, pulling his tea over. "That's a neat trick sliding in like that all unseen and such."

The stranger answered gruffly "Cause I'm not looking for company." He grabbed the beer the bartender passed him, looking around the bar and deciding being near this weirdo was still the best choice. He growled slightly and sighed, mumbling, "Looks like I get it though... Doctor of what?"

"Just The Doctor, Sometimes I go by John Smith, but that's boring."

The gruff man chuckled, smirking. "The names Dean. Sometimes I go by Agent Hendrix, but I kinda like it."

"Why Agent Hendrix? That's-"

"The rock-star, yeah. What can I say, I like the classics."

"Right, good old Jimi. You know, I told him guitar would be a better idea than accordion."

Dean set down his beer, pulling out a triangular knife and holding it near the man's kidney. "Now see, I'm pretty good with my rock history, and you look pretty good for someone who should be very nearly 80 by my math."

The Doctor answered quietly "Is that silver? It looks really nice, but I'd prefer it less in proximity to my body."

"Silver allergy huh?" he dug the point in slightly.

"Careful! You'll damage my suit... It took me a while to find a good one..."

"What are you then? Wolf? Vampire? Shifter?"

"What? I'm a Time Lord. Though I suppose I get shifty with a knife in my back."

"...Time lord...What's a time lord."

"Well I suppose technically I'm Gallifreyan, but yes, Time Lord. I'm over 2000 years old actually."

Dean put away his knife. "The hell..." He drank down his beer and called for another one with a wave of his hand. "So you're some kind of immortal then. Angel, Demon, god, what?"

"I told you, Time Lord. I travel time and space, having adventures, righting wrongs, things like that. Usually I have a friend, sometimes it's just me and se-my TaRDiS." He fiddled with his bowtie, and sipped his tea awkwardly, like he almost let out a secret.

Dean sipped at his second beer, thinking. "Does the name Winchester mean anything to you? Aside from the company."

"Winchester? Doesn't really ring a bell, no. So What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You look like a man with a story. I need something to occupy me while my TaRDiS recharges, or whatever she's doing..." The doctor muttered something under his breath about her not letting him go on an adventure for some reason.

"What's your tardis anyway?"

"It's TaRDiS. She's my ship. My oldest friend."

Dean chuckled, giving a good honest grin. "I know how that is. Aside from my brother... hell, sometimes more than my brother, baby is my oldest friend. We've been through hell together. Literally even."

"How'd you get off planet?"

Dean looked confused, "Off Planet? Hell came here. Couldn't have done it without her."

"Sounds like quite a woman."

Dean took another sip of his beer, smiling wistfully. " She is, I've had to pull her back together more than once. It's hard to find some parts for a car as old as her."

"Car?"

"That's right Doc, a '67 Chevy Impala. Funny story actually, I helped my dad pick her out in the first place."

"How's that a funny story, sounds like a normal thing for father and son to do."

Dean smirked, "Not when an angel tossed you back in time and you talked to your dad as a teen."

"An angel? How'd you get back?"

"Eh, Cas brought me back forward. He's gotten better since then."

"Who's Cas?" The man in the bowtie was quite confused. It was a new experience.

"Castiel, the angel who sent me back."

"Made of stone? Only moves when you aren't looking?"

It was Dean's turn to be confused, raising an eyebrow, "I mean sometimes he's a bit stonefaced, but he moves when you're looking."

The Doctor shrugged, "You know, I've actually gotten to talk to Sexy." He looked bashfully at his tea, clearing his throat and taking a sip, "My TaRDiS."

"Sexy huh? I wish I could talk to baby, feels like I owe her an apology for some of what I've put her through."

"I'm sure she hears every time you fix her up, sounds like the type of object that could develop a psychic link."

"Now listen here pal," Dean growled, "baby's more than an object, so you take that back!"

"Sorry, sorry, meant no disrespect. Just that, especially with humans involved, something loved, something important, tends to gain a kind of sentience, and a connection to those that love them. Have you ever known what's wrong before it becomes a problem? Or how she lets you know where you need to be before you know it."

Dean sipped quietly at his beer, thinking about what the man had told him. "You know Doc," he looked over at where the man had been sitting, seeing he had left. "Huh..." Dean went back to his beer, as he heard an odd grinding sound in the background. "Dude needs to take off that emergency break."