This is NOT a part of the Doctor Who Virtual Season Five, although it contains some SPOILERS (just tiny ones, though). The story is a result of getting stuck in translation of "The Art of Forgetting." It is a common fact that when we are supposed to do one important thing, we instantly engage in a thousand other things. For instance cleaning the windows. This is a sort of cleaning the windows story. I was working on the Doctor Who while watching Supernatural. And all got kinda... weird. And this story was supposed to be really short. Just, you know, fun. So, of course, it has grown and is still growing. I hope you'll like it. Because for me it is, you know, fun. Ah, one more time, English is not my first language, so I am very sorry if it sounds awkward. I'm doing my best.

Disclaimer 1: I disowned the Doctor 764 years ago, after he left me barefoot on a Spiky Moon of Hotspot. Therefore, I do not own him.

Disclaimer 2: Sam and Dean Winchester cannot belong to me, because if they did, I could never go to Heaven.

Disclaimer 3: Of course other people own both shows and they do fantastic jobs bringing the characters to life. I hope they will not bear the grudge. Grudge is sooo bad!

WHO SOWS THE WIND

VS

THE STORM REAPER

.1. Two Worlds Collide in Summit Creek, Colorado

"Well?"

"I haven't seen anything."

"It had to go your way."

"Well, it didn't!"

Exasperated sigh.

"Have you checked the barn?"

"It didn't go to the barn."

"Did you check it?"

"...No... I didn't... but..."

A metallic click.

"Yeah, a swell job, dude!"

A large wooden door opened slowly, with terrifying creak, inviting pale moonlight into a dusty old barn. A torch beam cut through the darkness, almost immediately followed by another band of light. Dust particles swirled in the blaze as beams searched the gloomy, abandoned farm building.

"There's nothing; there's just hay." One of the torch beams swivelled, finding in the darkness a face of a young man, now screwing his eyes in a pool of bright light. "What are we doing here, Dean?"

"Point that down, will you?"

With some hesitation the light slid towards the floor.

"Look, Dean, all there's here is some junk, some hay and a lot of spider webs. There's no sulphur, temp is steady and the EMF shows jack. It's just an old barn in the middle of nowhere. We're supposed to be someplace else. Meeting with Bobby."

"C'mon, Sammy, you've heard that as well." Another light beam zigzagged through the dusty barn, for a brief second catching another young face, with prominent jaw, wide forehead and narrowed, dark eyes. "Sort of coughy whinnying? Like it's wounded? Or upset?"

"Yeah, I've heard it and it could've been anything, some machine, an old engine maybe. They have some lumber-mills nearby; it could've been a saw."

"I know the sound of a saw. It was different. It was ghostly."

"Sure, a coughy whinnying... Oh, there's nothing, Dean, and I'm out of here..."

"Wait!" The torch beam tripped over something at the very far end of the barn, nearby a loft gate, opening to the fields. "What's that?"

A second beam joined the first one and they quickly travelled along the sides of a big, bulky shape, revealing wooden walls painted blue, a double winged door with square, opaque windows, and a pale sign on the top.

"A 'Police call box'? Whatahell is that, Sammy?"

"I've no idea. Some antique, I suppose. Well, it looks old... Dean, where are you...?"

"I want to take a closer look, ok?"

"It's a box... Dean... It's a musty old wooden box... and we should be meeting Bo..."

The blue box's door opened suddenly with a squeak, letting out a generous wave of brilliantly orange light. A skinny man in a suit stepped out from within, into the barn, walking backwards and talking to somebody as he walked:

"I still think we should investigate it, Donna. There's a reason the TARDIS brought us here."

"Right, as if she was never lost before," answered another voice from inside the box.

Two light beams disappeared in split second, as two young men switched off their torches and dived behind a heap of hay and behind a rusty skeleton of a tractor.

"Honestly, Doctor, what are we even doing here?" A red-haired woman wearing a white, knee long trousers, a sea blue top and a pair of flip-flops joined the skinny man in the suit. "Every time we're supposed to go to the beach we land inside something like that. I mean, it's a barn, it's a farm, it's a bloody countryside! It's dusty, and mouldy and full of rusting bits of metal just waiting to give you a bad case of tetanus. I hate it when it's so dark and I think I've just stepped in a poo."

"But she did bring us here," protested the man lighting a pale, weirdly bluish torch. "She had to have a reason."

"Yeah... She's just pissed at you for all that hammering." The woman sneezed suddenly. "Brilliant! A hay fever!"

"Anyway, I've heard something," said the man quickly. "Think that could be..."

"Right. Stay where you are!"

The woman uttered a shrill shout. Brilliant stream of light pinned the man in the suit into the spot. He blinked behind his rectangular, heavy rimmed glasses.

"What?"

"Just keep your hands where I can see them."

"What??"

"What are you doing here?" There was a click of a sawn-off shotgun being reloaded and another stream of light crisscrossed with the first one.

"What???" repeated the skinny man in the suit incredulously.

"Who are you?" asked the taller of two indistinct shapes hiding in the shadows.

"Yeah, and why were you Houdining yourselves in that box?" added the other. "It seems a bit small for two, unless you're into kinky."

The woman squeaked again, this time with more indignation than fear.

"Don't. Point. That. At. Me!" she said. "Put that down or I'll shove it upyour..."

"Donna, no!"

"...arse!"

"DonNA!"

"Stay where you are, you hell bitch! And you too!"

"O!"

"Dean, they're no demons."

"Did you just call me a bitch?!"

"Yeah, I did."

"You bloody pri..."

"DONNA!"

The skinny man in a suit raised both hands (one still clutching the weird blue torch) and waved them desperately.

"EVERYONE, SHUT UP! JUST... SHUT IT!" he bellowed. "QUIET! NOW!"

Some dog started barking in the distance.

"You're people?" asked the taller shadow after a while.

"Well, not exac..."

"Yes!" The woman cut into the skinny man's words. "Who did you think we were? Bloody ghosts?"

"Erm... yeah..."

"Dean!"

"Well, what?"

"Dean, stop pointing at them. They're people."

"I can see they're people."

"We should just leave them. We scared shit out of them as it is already."

"It's their fault for making out in that antiquey wardrobe, Sam. What's a 'Police call box' anyway?"

"A telephone box from the fifties. You could call the police from it. Or it could be a holdback cell for an arrestee," explained the skinny man. "Now, would you put your guns away? It's a wee bit distracting."

"We weren't making out," said the woman. "And it's not a wardrobe."

"It seems a bit too intimate for anything else," laughed the shadow called Dean.

"Well, it's bigger on the inside!"

"DONNA!"

"Oh." The taller shape, named Sam, lowered his shotgun and came closer to the police box. "So what are you two doing here? And who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor and she's Donna," said the skinny man. "You?"

"I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean."

"Yeah, tell them who we are. Give them our insurance numbers as well." The lower shadow approached the blue box, gun still at the ready. They all got into the circle of orange light and for the first time they had a chance to clearly see each other's faces. The woman gasped quietly at the sight of regular features, huge eyes and kissable lips of Dean Winchester.

"And what are you doing here?" asked the man called the Doctor. He took off his glasses, folded them and stuffed into his pocket. "Middle of nowhere, middle of the night, armed? You're at war or something? 'cause you don't exactly look the time bracket. I mean, your clothes... It's America, right?"

"What the hell?" said Dean looking at him questioningly. "Say, lady, was your friends tripping on acid recently?"

"Eurrghh..." gurgled the redhead called Donna.

"We're... we're the US marshals," explained the taller brother, Sam. "We thought you were..."

"Escaped prisoners," provided Dean.

"Escaped prisoners, yeah," finished Sam.

"No, we're not," said the Doctor firmly. "We're just... travellers... We just travel."

For a moment all four of them looked at each other with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, right!" / "That's crap, man." / "Complete bollocks." / "Sure as hell!" they said in unison. Guns' barrels went up, so did the blue glow stick (as it didn't resemble any normal torch after all).

"Just who the hell are you?" asked Sam, the butt of his shotgun pressed firmly to his shoulder.

"Put that down, will you?" said the Doctor.

"Or what?" asked Dean, pointing his sawn-off at him.

"Oh, nothing. I just don't like guns," answered the Doctor with a shrug. "You should have a banana instead. Everybody should have a banana. Bananas are good. Real ice-breakers."

"Eurghh..." added Donna, staring at Dean.

"It's just..." Dean shook his head, reaching to the inside pocket of his jacket. "It's just all kinds of stupid!"

"Yeah, completely bonkers," agreed the Doctor. "With the guns, and the pointing, and the questioning... We're going nowhere, fast. Couldn't we just talk? We could..."

He blinked quickly, as cold water splashed into his eyes.

"Oi! Watch it, mate!"

"Nope, no demons." Dean corked the metal flask and put it back inside his jacket.

"What did you do that for?" asked the Doctor with indignation, wiping his face.

"Wanted to make sure," answered Dean.

"That we're no demons?"

"Yeah."

"And how would splashing water in my face help you make sure?"

"It's holy water."

"Ah." The Doctor raised his chin and gave Dean a long, quizzical look. "Right. We'll be gone, then. Nice to meet you. Bye."

He grabbed Donna's hand and pulled her towards the box.

"Gone where?" asked Sam. "Back inside your box?"

"Back on the temporal orbit," said the Doctor.

"Temporal whatsit?"

"Orbit."

"As in orbit – orbit? As in space?"

"And time."

"Space and time?"

"Demons and holy water?" mocked the Doctor, still pulling Donna along.

"No, wait, can I have your mobile number?" said Donna to Dean. All three men turned towards her, completely speechless. "Just in case," added Donna.

"In case of what?" they chorused.

"Well, you're apparently investigating something," said Donna in a tiny voice, covering for her last attempt at wooing Dean. "So are we. Then, just in case we're investigating exactly the same thing. Which, I have no idea what it is, except that it sort of coughs and whines."

For a moment there was complete silence. Even the distant barking subsided for a while.

"I'll be damned!" said Dean finally.

"Wait," Sam raised a hand. "Wait a moment, you've heard that too?"

"Loud and clear," answered the Doctor. "Actually, at first we've noticed other signs. There were some unusual weather patterns in the area; temperature inversion, and whirlwinds forming out of nowhere, static electricity just sparkling, and transdimensional particle pathways simply piercing the fabric of reality. And piercing the fabric of reality – never a good sign. Plus the TARDIS sort of slam-banged us here."

"And you think it was...?" cautiously asked Sam.

"Ooooh..." The Doctor rolled his eyes, opened his mouth and touched the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Something... I dunno... something dangerous?"

"Right, very," barked Dean. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but there's no room for civilians here, so skedaddle. Just go. Shoo."

"Civilians? Because you are...?" Donna raised her eyebrows, the pitch of her voice rising dangerously.

"We're hunters," said Dean. "We deal with this stuff professionally. It's our job to kick ass."

"Hunting what exactly?" The Doctor furrowed his brow.

"Spirits. Ghosts. Demons. Werewolves. Vampires. Shapeshifters. Monsters. Occasional god."

"Rrrright!" said the Doctor. He half turned towards Donna. "They're hunting ghosts and demons with guns and attitude. Shouldn't be too difficult considering ghosts and demons don't exist."

"Would be nice, wouldn't it?" Sam laughed bitterly. "If they didn't exist?"

"Because they don't," snapped the Doctor.

"The whole bloody world is sliding into damnation and hell fire," said Dean even more bitterly. "Sixty six damned seals are being broken one by one; there are damned angels and demons playing their little game of backgammon here, on Earth; both parties are doing their best to screw us beyond recognition; and you're telling me there's no such thing as ghosts and demons? I've been to hell, man. Hell's real as... well, hell. All the things your mommy told you were not under your bed are under your bed. It's just you're too blind to see."

"Yeah, thanks, Dean, for making us sound completely mental." Sam shrugged his shoulders. "But he's right," he added. "The things we've seen..."

"There are monsters, ok," said the Doctor quickly. "But they're neither ghosts nor demons."

"What are they, then?" asked Dean, narrow smile on his face.

"Aliens, usually. Or machines. Or just people."

"Aliens? Did he just say aliens, Sammy?"

"He sure did."

"Rrright!"

"Oh, so you believe in ghosts, but not in aliens?" snapped Donna. "How come?"

"I've seen ghosts. I've never seen aliens," answered Dean.

"I've never seen an ostrich farm," said Donna quickly. "But I know they exist."

Sam and the Doctor opened their mouths to join the spinning circle of a quarrel, when something broke into their conversation. A harsh coughy whine bore itself into everybody's ears, making them cuddle together, little hairs at the back of their necks raised. The sound continued for a good while, first low, then high pitched, hurting somewhere inside their brains. Silence fell, eventually, pretty disturbing now, after that demonstration of unexplainable presence.

"Doctor..." whispered Donna.

"Dean..." whispered Sam.

And they were running in opposite directions; the Winchesters towards the barn's gate, the Doctor and Donna towards the TARDIS. All of them suddenly seemed to be in a real hurry. They didn't even say goodbye.

To be continued...