Characters: From SPN 'verse: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Chuck. From DW 'verse: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, OC (Chuck)

Warnings: Spoiler alert for Supernatural 6.22 and for Doctor Who 6.08. Offensive language. Blasphemy? I think that's about it.

Summary: The Doctor, along with the Ponds, comes to the aid of the Winchesters in their final battle to save the world. Will they save Castiel, too? And will Dean ever accept how he feels about the former angel? A few mysteries are revealed, including the whereabouts of the original God, and just how the world really did come to be.

Chapter 2

"So let me get this straight – that box out there is a time machine?"

"Yes."

"And you're an alien?"

"That's right."

Dean shook his head, disbelieving. "No, that can't be right. We've done research on this. The last time I nearly considered it I ended up servicing the king of the bloody fairies."

"You met Oberon?" asked the Doctor excitedly and Dean shot him a dirty look.

"Look buddy, I'm not buying what you're selling, so how about you cut the crap," he replied.

The Doctor sighed. "I know time travel is a difficult concept when you haven't had twelve years to adjust to the idea," he said, glancing at Amy who rolled her eyes.

"It's not time travel I've got a problem with," replied Dean. "Been there, done that." He took a moment's satisfaction upon seeing the surprised looks on the three supposed time travellers' faces before continuing, "My issue is the only creature we've ever known who can do it are angels – and you're definitely not like any angel we've ever met, so what are you, really?"

The Doctor pursed his lips before replying evenly, "I told you. I'm a Time Lord."

Dean sighed and ran a hand along his jaw. He was definitely sober now. Since Bobby had loosened up enough to let the three time travellers in his house they had been going over their story, trying to piece it together with the knowledge they already had of such things – which was squat, mostly, Dean had to admit. That they weren't a threat, however, had been established of course. The Doctor was happy to do all their standard tests – salt, silver and holy water – but he seemed less than pleased about Amy and Rory having to take part as well, especially the silver blade part. Dean knew it sucked, having done it enough times himself, but still. Better safe than sorry.

Bobby came back into the lounge room from the kitchen, brandishing a tray of mugs, looking every bit the gracious host and nothing like the fierce hunter on the porch less than an hour ago. He offered his three guests a cup of tea, being Brits and all, before handing Dean his mug of Joe. As Dean took the proffered mug, he traded a secretive glance with the old hunter and felt his stomach unclench. Sam was okay; Bobby had checked on him.

"Where is Sam?" asked the Doctor, looking around the room expectantly, and that sent chills right up and down Dean's spine. Could he read Dean's thoughts? Or did he simply read the relief on Dean's face?

"Out," replied Dean gruffly.

The Doctor seemed disappointed at that, and slumped into the couch the three time travellers were squashed onto. Dean continued to stand, leaning against the wall, taking a sip of his still-hot coffee. He felt it burn a pathway down to his belly, pooling warmth in a way the whiskey could not and he felt his senses tingle at the caffeine entering his system.

Bobby cleared his throat. "While I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I had a look over some of my files. There's been a lot of crazy shit happening in the UK in the last five or six years," he began, handing a few papers to Dean. "Alien sightings across the country and the like. Some of it could be passed off as simple monster hunts, but there's shit I can't explain, too."

Dean glanced at the newspaper articles. Spaceships over London, alien-like creatures roaming the streets at night, what appeared to be specialist government agencies taking care of the situations in secret... "Huh," began Dean. "Looks like hunting is a paid job across the Atlantic."

The Doctor frowned. "So you don't remember the planets in the sky, either?"

"What planets in the sky?"

"Never mind," he answered, something obviously troubling him. Dean let the matter drop. He didn't need to add a supposed alien's worries on top of his already overflowing plate.

Bobby continued, "The thing is, one word that always comes up when these stories surface is 'Doctor.'"

Dean looked from Bobby to the Doctor at that, who both looked as though they were in the middle of a pretty intense staring contest. Flittingly, Dean wondered if that was how he and Cas appeared to onlookers when Dean got lost in the angel's gaze, and then he immediately clamped down on those thoughts, a flash of anger at himself for even thinking about it. Cas isn't Cas anymore, he reminded himself sternly.

"Well, I think that question's easy enough to answer," Amy finally spoke up, obviously sick of keeping quiet. The Doctor broke his gaze with the old hunter to spare a glance at his companion, before she continued, "It's because he was there. The Doctor saves the day. That's what he does. So, if you don't mind, we'd really like to see Sam and find out why he called us here."

The Doctor regarded Dean Winchester with a steady gaze, almost pitying the position he was in. The Time Lord could see the battle on the man's features, weighing up whether or not to tell them where Sam was. He guessed those whereabouts to be somewhere in the house; he hadn't missed the look the two hunters had shared when Bobby had returned to his living area. He was bursting to meet the youngest Winchester, wanted to know how and why he had sent out such a prayer and what he could do to help. But he also knew how much the two brothers had been through, how many times they had been betrayed, and he knew he needed to tread carefully. Just looking at Dean, he could sense all the different time lines converging on him. Alternate and parallel paths swirled all around Dean's very being, making the Doctor dizzy. If he wasn't careful he could get lost in the possibilities.

Amy shifted alongside him, breaking him out of his reverie. She was getting restless; Rory's steady presence not enough to keep her in check for long. He had managed to silence her earlier with nothing more than a look but he knew she was well past that point. She was tired of pandering to what she saw as two grouchy men's superstitious paranoia. Before she could speak again, however, Dean cleared his throat. He glanced at Bobby quickly before turning his hard gaze on the Doctor. "How did Sam call you here?"

The Doctor pulled out the psychic paper from his coat pocket and handed it to the man. Dean opened the wallet and frowned. "It's just blank paper," he said, inspecting it closely.

"It's psychic," supplied the Doctor. "Shows you whatever I want you to see. Passport, IDs, what I had for breakfast, anything I want. Comes in handy more often than not, that's for sure."

Dean gave a low whistle. "Could use some of this ourselves," he admitted ruefully before looking up expectantly at the Time Lord, waiting for him to finish explaining.

"Sometimes when a thought is strong enough, usually due to a latent psychic ability, and directed in the right manner, I can receive their thoughts as a message on this paper."

"So you go around answering people's psychic prayers?"

The Doctor shrugged before smiling. "In between saving the universe, sure."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at that, before returning his gaze to the paper. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting every inch of it, as though he were waiting for it to do something. "So what did Sammy pray? 'Save us from the monsters'?"

The Doctor hesitated a moment before answering. He didn't know whether he should divulge the entirety of Sam's message to Dean, unsure whether Sam had been aware of what he had prayed for himself. "Yes," he began, before adding, "Although his first thought was for you, actually. He pleaded for someone to help his brother."

Dean looked up sharply at that, an unreadable expression on his face, but he quickly masked it when Bobby rose to his feet. "Dean. A word," was all the gruff hunter said before stepping out of the living room and into the kitchen. Dean watched the man leave and then, pushing himself up from the wall he had been leaning against, he handed back the psychic paper. "We'll be back in a minute," he supplied before following in Bobby Singer's footsteps.

The moment the kitchen doors were closed, Amy let out a sigh and got to her feet. She stretched her arms high above her head, her flannel shirt lifting with her to reveal the skin of her back. "How much longer are we going to be stuck here waiting?" she grumbled before dropping her arms suddenly, her hands slapping her thighs. She spun around to face the Doctor and her husband. The shallow cut on her forearm from the silver blade shone red on her pale skin, matching the shade of her shirt.

"Well?" she prompted, hands on hips, upon receiving no response from either of them.

Rory got to his feet as well, imitating his wife's stretch, as well as cracking his neck. Amy scrunched up her nose at the sound of bone's popping and Rory smiled sheepishly. The Doctor remained seated. "The angels they mentioned, Doctor," began Rory. "Were they talking about the weeping angels?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, they weren't," he replied. "The angels Dean spoke of are a far older race. A sister species, certainly, but more powerful." He paused for a moment, contemplating how to explain before continuing, "Like the weeping angels, they don't always exist in corporeal bodies, or at least in any form we could interpret without our eyes being burned from our skulls..."

"Oh, well that sounds nice," quipped Rory.

"But we've seen the weeping angels, Doctor," began Amy, frowning as she tried to piece together the Doctor's explanation.

He nodded. "Yes, the weeping angels assume an interpretable form when another creature looks upon them," he explained. "Dean's angels don't have that luxury. They must use a vessel to walk amongst a species not their own."

"They possess someone?"

"Essentially, yes," confirmed the Doctor. "But their faith requires them to ask permission first, unlike their sub-species, demons."

"Angels and demons? Faith?" laughed Amy. "You weren't kidding about religious wars, were you?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I wasn't," he agreed. "There is a lot here you won't understand, which is why I've asked for your silence. The Winchesters are good people. They've lived hard lives, made choices I wouldn't necessarily agree with, but their hearts are in the right place. I know their history well; have had to in order to avoid getting involved. But there's a lot Sam and Dean don't understand either. When I said religious wars, I meant it. Just a few years ago, the Winchesters derailed a full-fledged Christian apocalypse from destroying the world."

Rory's eyebrows shot up at that. "What?" he sputtered. "How didn't we know about that?"

"You were travelling with me," pointed out the Doctor. "But you'd likely have not noticed it anyway. It was very subtle. Swine flu outbreak, tsunamis, earthquakes and other natural disasters, they were all signs. It was all orchestrated to appear natural so humanity ignored it. And then the demons would strike when it was too late for anyone to make a stand."

"Anyone except the Winchesters?" questioned Rory.

The Doctor nodded. "They were forewarned by the angels. They are a prophetic race, and have some skill in time travel, being able to transport themselves across the planet at the blink of an eye, as well as back and forth through time, although not like the Time Lords. It's probably more similar to the rudimentary time travel you humans develop in the 51st century."

Amy rolled her eyes. "When you're done tooting your own horn, feel free to continue."

The Doctor smiled. "You know me, Amelia Pond, I do love tooting my own horn," he teased, before continuing, "The angels have inhabited the Earth since the beginning, or at least they've been in dimensions surrounding the planet – Heaven, essentially – if not physically on this plane. That's another thing they can do; create dimensions. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory... they're all dimensions created by the angels. The fact that Sam and Dean have been caught up with them so much probably explains the possibilities surrounding their timelines... Anyway, they're mixed up in all the religious mythology of the Earth."

Rory kneaded his forehead. "This is a lot to take in, Doctor," he admitted. "I'm not saying I've ever been a religious kind of guy, but you've just... blasphemed a lot."

The Doctor grinned at that. "I'm walking talking blasphemy, Rory Pond," he said, before adding more seriously, "Sam and Dean don't believe in aliens; that much is clear. They're certainly not 'religious kind of guys,' either, but it will take them a while to accept that angels aren't warriors of God, but creatures from another planet."

Amy nodded slowly and dropped back down onto the sofa next to the Doctor. She twisted her body to face him, and the Doctor caught her gaze. "So," she began slowly. "You want us to keep quiet for now, don't you?"

The Doctor smiled. "You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

She matched his smile. "Alright," she agreed, before shaking her head in disbelief. "I really thought I was becoming immune to surprises for a while there," she laughed.

"If you wanna become immune to surprises, you should try being a Winchester," said a voice at the door. The three companions turned to face a tall man who stood in the frame, his long hair pushed back off his face to reveal high cheekbones and a large forehead. His eyes looked haunted, and the Doctor finally rose to his feet.

"Sam Winchester," he said cheerfully. "We've been waiting for you."