A/N: Written after reading a Tumblr post, basically depicting their meeting. I couldn't not write this. Enjoy! R & R, as always!
Dean was bored. So, he did what bored people do. He searched for something interesting.
He wandered through the bunker and into the garage, where he stumbled across Sam, with whom he promptly struck up a conversation. It was idle chatter and teasing, nothing of importance and Dean still felt restless. He needed a demon to hunt, and soon. He was saying as much to Sam, when a noise began echoing through the room. Later, he would only be able to describe it as a sort of vwrooping.
As the noise reached its climax, a blue box faded into existence, right in front of the Impala.
The second the box became fully opaque, it opened up and spit out a man in a bow tie and fez, carrying a wild assortment of wires and gizmos. "Right then, Winchesters –doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?– we've got a planet to save!" He didn't cast a second glance at the brothers, while he set his bundle down on the hood of the Impala and began tinkering with it.
"What the hell?" Sam murmured, turning to Dean for an explanation. Dean, of course, could give none.
Frustrated by the lack of movement, the man turned away from his gadget and toward Sam and Dean. "Well, come on then! Get a move on! Sam, go get me jar of peanut butter and some duct tape– oh! And while you're at it, we'll need a jar of nails –did you hear me? A jar of nails. That means nails in a jar.– and possibly some salt." The man moved around the hood of the Impala, eyeing his concoction of bits and bobs from every angle, before adding, "And a toothpick."
Now, the Winchester brothers had seen a good many things and experienced a good many experiences, but they had yet to come across a fez-wearing man, who popped out of a blue box, in the middle of their protected bunker, who then proceeded to give them orders concerning nails in jars.
"Salt," Sam repeated meaningfully, catching Dean's eye.
Dean nodded, because this was obviously some sort of demon.
Sam slipped out of the room and headed for the kitchen.
"Oh!" The man cried, straightening himself up and abruptly bopping himself on the forehead.
"Yes, and we'll be needing your boyfriend, Dean. Get him back in here!"
"Boyfriend?" he repeated, cocking his head to the side. "That was my brother."
"No!" the man replied, waving his hands dismissively, "No, no, no, not that one. The good looking one! The angel one! The scruffy one with the big coat, nice hair…" A look of understanding dawned upon his face and he ceased his ramblings. "You say brother… Oh, I see." With that, the man collected his mass of wires and moved back toward his box.
"Hold on," Dean interjected, "You can't just–"
"Doesn't matter," the man assured him, dumping the object he'd been carrying unceremoniously back through the box's doors and onto its floor. "Spoilers," he added, one foot in the blue box. He smiled as if this were some sort of inside joke.
Dean didn't quite understand why, but he had a funny sort of feeling in his gut. Like he knew this… demon, man… whatever it was. "Spoilers?" he demanded, taking half a step toward the bow-tie-wearing maniac. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
The bowtie-wearer paused and regarded him. "Foreknowledge is bad. Very, very bad…" he mused, "But, anyway. I'll be seeing you! Few years from now, but… Oh, same thing. Until then," he said, with a bob of his fez-capped head to go along with it.
The door of the blue box swung shut behind him and vanished once more.