The Day Just Keeps Getting Longer
abstraction
(I own nothing but the words.)

--

Sam sometimes wonders if people ever have dreams as weird as his life actually is. It is nearing sundown and he has already stabbed a possessed gnome, exorcised a demon, been punched in the ear, and is currently watching a blue box fade in and out of existence. What sounds like the sneeze of an angry banshee finally stops, and a man in a sharp black suit and polished shoes steps out the door of the box with a creak. He brushes invisible dust from his left shoulder with an air of irritated indignation, then quickly examines his tie before rolling his eyes. "It just figures," he mutters.

The Winchesters are standing stock still, unsure of what to think. He spots them, finally. "Oh look," he calls happily behind him, "bystanders! Can we kill them?"

"What the f--," Dean begins, alarmed. Sam sighs. Its going to be one of those days.

"Oi! Language!" a voice answers haughtily. It is followed by another man stepping out of the box while pointing a finger accusingly at Dean. "There are ladies present."

Dean looks at Sam and slowly raises an eyebrow. The man is in pinstripes and trainers, and turns quickly on his heel to face the man in the black suit. "And no. We're not going to kill them," he says with a familiar disbelief. Dean's stance becomes a little more relieved, but the men continue as if they aren't there.

"Jesus, you're no fun. What happened to letting me do whatever I wanted this time around? Wasn't that the bet? Or, wait," he says with glee, "were you lying? Is the almighty Doctor going back on his word? Heaven forfend!"

"You two are worse than my mum after a pint, all that bickering. And she never had hissy-fits half as big as Mr. Prime Minister over here," says a blonde walking out of the blue box with ease. "Centuries old, going on two, I swear." She clicks the door shut behind her and sighs. The men pause to glare at her, then eachother. "Yeah, well, if I was that tub of lard I'd drink myself to--"

"Oi," she hisses. "You may think you're dangerous, but you just wait until we're back inside."

The man takes a slight step back. Pinstripes smirks.

"Okay, what in the hell is going on here?"

Everyone looks at Dean.

"Oh! I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose," replies one of the men, jerking a thumb towards the blonde. "The Master," says the other curtly.

Silence reigns for a moment or two and the Doctor shifts awkwardly.

"Well, I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean," Sam finally says. "Are you maybe lost? You don't sound like you're from around here." Sam is dangerously close to hoping that all of this is actually a dream, and that he will wake up in the Impala in a few minutes.

"Yes, but no. We're just passing through. Trying to find a supermarket or something for more milk, because that one spilled the last of it on himself," says Rose with a nod of her head toward the Master. He mutters something about water torture under his breath before being elbowed in the ribs by the Doctor.

Dean is looking at Rose with what he hopes is smoldering eyes, saying, "We could show them, couldn't we, Sammy! Just up the road here, right?" He smacks Sam in the chest with the back of his hand. "Right?"

"No. We really need to be going." He turns to the strangers with something like apology on his face. "Sorry, but we've got something really important we have to be doing."

Dean grabs Sam's sleeve and pulls him down. "What!" he whispers. "Did you even look at that chick's legs?" Sam sways slightly in spot and his expression remains apologetic and mildly disturbed.

"Nice to meet you," he says, walking to the Impala. Dean follows reluctantly. "Yeah," he calls, "come find us if you see anything weird."

The Master looks Rose up and down slowly. "Actually," he begins.

"Don't. Even. Start."

The voices fade as they continue walking, and Dean seems a little put-out and confused. Sam just wants to take some aspirin. "What do you think--"

"I don't know, Dean."

They walk in silence for a few steps.

"Dude, what the hell are our lives."