Basic summary: This starts out in the future and goes back to the story of how they got into the mess at the beginning. Cas is a rogue and no longer serves heaven. Any questions, don't be afraid to ask!
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Supernatural, Doctor Who, or Sherlock. These characters belong to the creators respectively. Nothing belongs to me.
With a skittering crash, the blue box came to a halt, ramming sideways into the small café on the corner. What remained of the restaurant was now nothing more than a smoking pile of dust and debris, shattered glass showered the floors, tables were upturned completely and booths were torn apart. Whatever had taken control of the time machine had done its work properly. Nothing remained standing. Luckily, the place was closed at the time so no one was hurt… well, more or less.
The doors of the TARDIS flung open and six men stumbled out of it, all landing in a jumbled heap outside of the box. Groaning and coughing they all made it to their feet, five of them glancing, no, glaring, at the sixth in disgust as they dusted themselves off. The man in the tan trench coat spoke first.
"For being the man who drives this vehicle for a living, your skills are not up to standard." Castiel, the angel, well… used to be angel, of the Lord remarked without emotion. He straightened his trench coat and glanced to the two demon-hunting brothers who stood behind him. Dean chuckled at Cas's remark.
"He's right, Doc. What the hell kind of driving was that? I thought Sam's driving was bad… but damn you put him to shame." The older Winchester clapped his brother on the shoulder in a mocking gesture. "Isn't that right Sammy?" Before Sam could respond, a sharp voice cut him off.
"Can you stop blubbering about like morons and be useful for a change?" This time it was the consulting detective who spoke. His long black coat was a little.. Well, a lot worse for wear. A long tear down the side of it had put him in a very cross mood. He liked the coat. It was these moron's fault that it had happened. Mainly the Doctor's, for his terrible piloting skills. John Watson glanced at Sherlock as he talked, furrowing his brow. Of course, back to his usual self wasn't he?
The Doctor scoffed with a quick tweak of his cool neckwear, walking around the TARDIS. "Whatever happened, it wasn't my fault. Something was controlling the TARDIS. It wasn't me. Either way, we aren't getting anywhere anytime fast. She's out of commission until I can get her fixed up again."
The men all looked at each other, faces brooding with schemes and plans. And the urge to beat the hell out of one another for getting into this mess. Dean turned to Sam before turning back to the Time Lord. "So what you're saying, is someone possessed your woman time machine, is that it?"
"Something like that, yes." The Doctor turned around, his arms crossed and brow furrowed in frustration.
"Great… just great." Dean said. "Always has to be something like that…"
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