A/N: I would like to apologize for waiting so long to update this, what with school and catching up on Supernatural and all, but I do believe that I have some sort of an idea for a time frame in this story.

In Supernatural, this is set somewhere withing season eight. I can't say if there will be spoilers, but the chances are likely.

In Doctor Who, well, it's a bit wibbley wobbley.

Anyways, enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Angel, the Statue, and the Doctor

Sam found himself flat on his back. Grass was cushioning his body, as well as the bag he was carrying earlier. He quickly climbed up to his feet, resting his hands on his knees as his head spun for a short moment. What happened? He remembered seeing that statue, in a different stance than when he had seen when he first glanced at it, and then turning around to try and tell Dean….Where was Dean?

"Dean?" He called out, spinning around to look for him.

"Right here, Sammy," Dean was sitting on the ground not far from Sam, with his bag thrown beside him, blinking at his surroundings. "Wasn't it dark a second ago?"

After helping his older brother up, Sam looked around. Dean was right; they had entered the cemetery in the middle of the night, but now it was as bright as midday. But there were more things to be off about the place, as well. The gravestones were no longer there, as well as the Impala, and the road was now graveled instead of cement.

"Where are we?"

Castiel read over the headstones of a graveyard in Central America, a stern and focused expression on his face. Sam and Dean had been missing since the night before, and Dean's Impala was still here. It wasn't like Dean to leave his car for so long.

There was something very wrong about their disappearance. True, they hunted monsters for a living, but there was a feeling, as if he knew that whatever had caused them to disappear was something they had never hunted before. But who—or what—would want the Winchesters out of the picture, and for what reason?

Castiel turned around to continue with his search, but stopped right there.

That statue was not there before.

It seemed ordinary for people to put angel statues in cemeteries, but not like this. This one was strange, with a stance as if to attack and an expression of anger. Castiel had seen one similar to this one in the same graveyard, but that one was at the opposite side and had its eyes covered with both hands.

For some reason, he thought he heard the sound of footsteps and someone call out, "Don't blink!"

He didn't dare to look away.

Both Sam and Dean had to walk into the nearby city. Dean, of course, was disappointed by the missing Impala, and grumbled about it the entire way there. They bought a newspaper from a nearby stand and checked for the date.

"1962," Sam announced, a tone of disbelief in laced in his voice, "June sixteenth."

Dean looked towards him with an annoyed expression. "1962, huh?"

"Yep," the younger folded the paper and tucked it under his arm. "Question is, what got us here?"

"An angel?"

"Dean, besides Cas, what angel do we know would actually want us wrecking havoc in the past?"

Dean thought for a quick moment, and quickly came to a conclusion. "Wait a minute, back at the cemetery, we saw that statue move, right?"

". . . Right?"

"That's probably what sent us here," he continued, "I mean, what if whatever that statue is can zap whoever they see to who knows where?"

Sam considered the idea. To him, the thought was just somewhere in the middle of absolutely absurd and a little bit likely. "It's possible . . . maybe. But wouldn't we have heard of moving statues by now?"

"Unless no one lived to tell the tale."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said uncertainly, "We'll have to talk about it later. For now, I think we should find a place to rest."

"Fine," Dean mumbled. He swung his bag over his shoulder, and he and Sam started down the street.

Some way down, Sam stopped to ask a stranger for directions. The man, who was tall (though not as tall as the younger Winchester), thin, and dressed in an oversized coat, gave him a look, as if trying to deduce something of his appearance. Finally the man turned to point out the directions.

"Down the street, take a left," he said coolly in a heavy British accent, "There's a nice place to stop down that way."

"Alright. Thank you," Sam nodded and turned to continue on his way. "Come on, Dean."

Castiel, still watching the statue before him, heard the footsteps get closer towards him. There was a man standing beside him now, but the angel didn't look to see who it was.

"Don't blink," the man said.

Cas didn't respond for a moment. He straightened himself, as if to show the statue he meant business. "What is this?" He grumbled to the person next to him.

"Would you believe me if I said, 'a creature from another world?'"

"An alien, you mean? Aliens don't exist."

"But you're looking right at one."

Castiel let out a breath in frustration. True, he had never seen anything like a moving statue before, but that didn't mean it was an alien. "Who are you?" He demanded.

The man was hesitant to respond. Finally he managed to say, "I'm the Doctor. Now listen, these things are deadly, and-!"

In one swift movement, the angel twirled around, swinging the man with him so that the statue ended up in his line of vision. Then Castiel placed a hand on the other's shoulder, and suddenly they were elsewhere, back in the nearby town.

The man, who had called himself "the Doctor," stumbled back. He then straightened himself as well as the bow tie he was wearing.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," he huffed, staring at Castiel, "You could've warned me."