Author's Note: So the People Have Spoken, and the results of the poll had "Nightmare on Weinbach Avenue" and "As Fell Gallifrey" tied for first. I decided that we'd go in chronological order from the Winchesters' viewpoint, which puts "Nightmare" next, but I realized that I really needed to do some Dean/Martha establishment first before we continue. So this is going to be a series of one-shots about what happened between them that leads up to Martha in "And What Will Never Be". THEN I'll start in on "Nightmare".
We are up to six stories now in this series, and I'm starting to wonder if I don't need to write some kind of "The Road So Far" in case people want to jump in. That would be super hard. But I'll do it if you tell me to.
Enjoy!
The TARDIS was on course to a new destination, another place Martha Jones had never seen before, another time she hadn't yet been to. Another adventure to be had.
The TARDIS was on course to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, in the late fall of 2008.
Martha had to admit she was kind of nervous to meet the Winchesters. The Doctor spoke so highly of them, and she knew that the last time he'd seen them, he'd been with Rose. So while they obviously meant a lot to him by themselves, they were also associated with her in his mind, and that always made Martha feel...less than adequate.
The trip over had been full of background information, names and places and cars to remember so she didn't have to get caught up too much when they got to South Dakota. Martha was in the process of wrapping her shin where she'd gotten it sliced running away from the piscine aliens the Doctor had managed to get mad at him, distracting them while the Doctor rewired the weapon they'd planned to destroy a city with. All had turned out well but the cut was pretty deep. Nothing she couldn't handle.
"Are you listening, Martha?" the Doctor asked, perhaps a bit peevishly, and Martha looked up from her bandaging with a raised eyebrow. "I don't think you are."
"Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, 1967 Chevrolet Impala," she recited dryly while continuing to wrap her leg. "Don't talk about parents or wives, don't ask where they're from, don't talk about the whole blood thing. Don't ask Dean what he's been up to lately. Safest topics are hunting, research, and cars, or let them take the lead with conversation. We're about seven months out from the last time you saw them. Tell me again I wasn't paying attention."
"Last time they saw me," the Doctor corrected her, but she could see that he was taken aback and grinned uncharitably at him. "It's been about three months since I've seen them. I've been checking in."
"Stalker," Martha muttered, tucking the bandage closed.
"Oi!" the Doctor cried, pulling a lever that made the TARDIS tilt. Martha shrieked in surprise and caught herself on a railing just in time. "Just made sure they were all right. Samuel in particular."
Martha ducked her head to hide a smile at the fondness in the Doctor's voice. Each time he spoke of these Winchester boys, he sounded like a proud dad. Which, she supposed, wasn't the least accurate thing, at least when it came to Sam...but even despite what had happened between Sam and the Doctor, despite how strong that bond obviously was, she could tell that the Doctor didn't care any less about Dean than he did about his brother.
Her smile faded a bit as she thought about Dean. Of course, she hadn't met him yet, but the Doctor told her what had just happened to him, to make sure she didn't unintentionally trigger any bad memories. Hell. Martha had seen a lot of strange things since she started traveling with the Doctor, but the idea that there was really a Hell, really a place of such unadulterated horror, left her a bit shaken. She was a woman of science. A doctor. (Well, almost.) She'd thought Hell was a story, a metaphor. But as always, the Doctor turned all the things she thought she knew on their heads and made her look at them crooked. Made her accept them that way.
The TARDIS lurched one last time, but Martha was hanging on now, and the familiar vworp, vworp of the brakes hummed through the console room. She stood, grimacing slightly at the weight on her injured leg. She felt a hand in hers, and looked up to see the Doctor helping her to her feet. She smiled gratefully and shook her head at the look of abashed concern on his face. "Didn't even notice, did you?"
"I noticed," he lied. "Just trying to distract you." She decided not to call him on it; one look at his face told her that he was almost as anxious as she was about their destination, for whatever reason. So she let him help her up and brushed off the back of her jeans, straightened her jacket, and followed him out the door.
The cold wind hit her instantly, and she shivered a bit as she looked around. It wasn't the most impressive place the Doctor had ever brought her. Junked cars were jammed together in the lot in various states of decay, and the house they'd arrived in front of looked like it had, at one point, been homey, but now looked a bit spooky and in gentle disrepair. She glanced at the Doctor, as if to say, are you sure this is right? He met her eyes and grinned.
She couldn't help but grin back. She never could.
He grabbed her hand and ran up the stairs to the porch, knocking on the door loudly. Martha felt her heart begin to race.
A moment later, the door opened slowly, and the first thing Martha saw was the barrel of a shotgun. Her heart picked up the tempo, but the Doctor just rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Robert, please. You heard the TARDIS."
The door opened the rest of the way and a grizzled older man stood there, his eyes wide with surprise, but his shotgun still pointed at the Doctor. "Doctor?" he said, disbelieving.
"The one and only!" the Doctor said.
"Thank goodness," Martha couldn't help but mutter, and the man's eyes turned to her.
"You're not Rose," he said, and Martha supposed they might as well rip the band-aid off as soon as possible.
"No," she said, stepping forward and holding her hand out. The man (Bobby Singer, she thought, obviously) lowered his gun and took her hand. "I'm Martha Jones. I'm traveling with the Doctor now."
"What happened to Rose?" Bobby asked, giving the Doctor a suspicious look and dropping Martha's hand. "And you know, before that, where the hell have you been?" He lowered his voice as he said, "These boys have been through...well, hell. Literally and figuratively. If there was a time they needed you, it's been the past few months. And, somehow, there hasn't been hide nor hair."
Martha glanced at the Doctor, and he was looking away. "A lot's happened since we last saw each other," he said quietly. "Can we come in? I'd like Martha to meet you and the boys."
Bobby backed up a step, but his eyes were steely as he said, "You listen to me, you alien son of a bitch. I don't care who you are or what you've done before. You hurt those boys, I'll shoot your extraterrestrial ass."
"I'll let you," the Doctor said, his voice soft. Bobby stepped aside to let them pass, and Martha flashed him an uncomfortable smile as she walked past.
The house was far more homey on the inside than on the outside, although it was an odd sort of homey. A few more pentagrams and obscure, eldritch symbols than the average home, but she knew why they were there. She knew that they meant safety, and rest, for a family that rarely saw either of those things. So where they would have once alarmed her, they just made her a little sad.
They had gotten into what was obviously a study when the sound of heavy footsteps down the staircase made her turn. Heavy as they were she knew that it was adults coming downstairs, but the speed and erratic sound of them made it sound like kids coming down to find their presents on Christmas day. She looked to the Doctor, who was grinning like a madman, eyes shining despite Bobby's cold welcome. Even Bobby looked grudgingly gratified, like hearing the excitement from his boys was enough to make him put aside his anger at the Doctor.
The footfalls on the stairs turned into footfalls on the floor, and then two men skidded to a halt in the doorway.
Martha did her best to control her expression, but she was going to have a talk with the Doctor later. He had failed to mention that the Winchesters were gorgeous.
"Doctor!" the taller one (Dean was older, she thought, maybe this was Dean?) exclaimed, and his expression melted into a wide smile. Nobody moved for a minute, but then the Doctor threw his arms open and they met each other halfway and embraced each other tight, like long-lost family.
Nope, then. That was Sam.
Which meant that it was Dean still standing in the doorway, looking like he was torn between running to the Doctor like his brother or running away. She saw the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.
But his expression softened instantly when Sam said "Dean!", as though he couldn't bear to let his brother see him in conflict. He smiled, and Martha realized she was staring.
"Hey, Doc," Dean said, and walked to them. The Doctor shook his hand, but Martha saw that he didn't understand Dean's reaction to him.
"It's good to see you, Dean," said the Doctor, and Martha knew why his voice was so fervent. She knew this was the first time they'd seen one another since Dean came back. One of the things she wasn't supposed to talk about but couldn't get off her mind.
Dean's response of "You, too" was somehow less than convincing, though, and Martha saw in the pull of the Doctor's eyebrows that he heard it, too.
Sam must not have seen her, because he started in immediately asking the Doctor where he'd been, what he'd been doing—not in an accusatory way like Bobby, but filled with curiosity. Dean, as soon as his handshake with the Doctor had broken, looked around, and his eyes fell on her.
Oh, look at that. They were just very green. The Doctor had also failed to mention that.
They stared at each other for a moment, and Martha wiped her palms on her jeans because what if they shook hands and her palms were sweaty? That wouldn't do. Not at all. What sort of first impression was sweaty palms and oh, it seemed that Dean was saying something to her, she should probably listen.
"Dean," he finished, and Martha smiled weakly.
"Yeah," she replied.
There was a moment of silence.
The smile that he broke into was perhaps the best smile she'd ever seen, and when it turned into laughter, she felt her cheeks warm. "Yeah?" Dean echoed. "Weird name."
That broke her out of it, and she wondered if he'd done it on purpose or if that usually flustered girls worse. "Sorry, must be the blood loss from the wound I sustained saving a city on another planet from imminent destruction about an hour ago," she said crisply, and was pleased to see the cockiness fade from his expression as his eyes widened. "I'm Martha. Martha Jones."
"Hi, Martha," he said, and he did hold out his hand, and she did take it, and her hands were dry and her grip firm. "You traveling with that weirdo now?"
"Somebody's got to keep him out of trouble," she replied, smiling.
"Sounds like a full-time job," Dean returned.
"Full time with unpaid overtime," Martha said, and laughed when Dean did.
"If you're done being catty over there, you've got another Winchester to meet," the Doctor interrupted, sounding irritated. That only made Martha and Dean laugh louder.
"C'mon, Yeah, you ought to meet my brother," Dean said, and put a hand on her shoulder to lead her the five feet to the Doctor and Sam.
The look on Sam's face threw Martha off for a moment. There was a sadness to it, and just the slightest tinge of anger, and a conflagration of emotion that shouldn't be present on a face she was seeing for the first time. But it only lasted a moment; he smiled, although it seemed a little forced, and took her hand when she offered it. "Sam," he said. "I know the Doctor calls me Samuel, but everybody else calls me Sam."
"'Cept for me," Dean interjected. "I still get to call you Sammy."
"Sammy's a—" Sam began, only to be cut off by his brother.
"A chubby twelve-year-old," Dean finished. "I just don't see the difference."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Sam," Martha said, before Sam could come back with a retort and the whole thing dissolved into a fraternal spat. "The Doctor speaks very highly of you. Of all of you."
"Well, any friend of the Doctor's is a friend of ours," Dean said, putting his hand on her shoulder again, and despite the since when? look that Sam gave his brother, Martha smiled.
She was pretty sure she'd like South Dakota.
