A now cleared evening in London – The TARDIS, Baker Street
Castiel landed on his face – hard.
He opened his eyes and dragged himself up. He tried to clear his head, but wherever he landed, it was much too bright. He couldn't see a thing. Then he remembered.
"Dean?" He was panicking. "Sam? DEAN!"
Castiel turned around and saw them laying on the ground, sprawled out and looking completely helpless. He scrambled towards them, checking their pulses. Fortunately, they were fine, and he relaxed the slightest bit. Which, of course, didn't last very long.
"Now, who do we have here?"
Castiel spun towards the voice, tripping in the process. He looked up frantically and saw three figures, two of them human, but not the other. The other was…
"Please, do tell me how you landed in my TARDIS. You seem…familiar." The Doctor stood over the strange creature.
"…I…" Castiel squinted, trying to see through the murky light. "…I am an angel of the lord."
The Doctor froze. "Nobody…move. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead."
John and Sherlock looked at each other. They still didn't understand what was happening, what with the Doctor and random people appearing in a dimensionally impossible police telephone booth.
Castiel, on the other hand, understood perfectly well what was happening. He just had to make sure it was what he thought it was…and all the rest. He'd finally cleared his head, and he saw the Doctor. His appearance had changed, but Castiel knew he was the same person…or…whatever.
The Doctor continued staring. "Why aren't you turning into stone? Why aren't you stone? How are you male? How can you talk? Are you a mutated species? What are you doing in my TARDIS? How did you get here? Did you evolve into teleportation-capable creatures? Tell me!" He said all that without blinking once.
"…My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the lord. And… I remember you. You're… the Doctor. When I searched the world and other universes, I saw your machinery in many different places, and centuries as well. Is it a time machine?"
"…What?" The Doctor looked at Castiel with little more than suspicion.
"Ahe-hem." Sherlock cleared his throat noisily. "Can we have some explanation here?"
Of course not, because, as if it weren't chaotic enough, Sam had woken up, drowsy and off-centered, followed by Dean with an irritated expression. They were both momentarily blinded by the harsh light of the TARDIS. When they could see again, they were grasped with a sense of adrenaline when they saw that they were not alone in that glistening…mechanical…thing.
"Cas?" Dean's eyes darted from the Doctor to Sherlock to John to Castiel and then to Sam. "What are we doing here? Last I checked, the 1800's didn't have computers."
"You were traveling to the 1800's? That's brilliant! What century are you from? The 51st? 55th?" The Doctor brightened up to the new arrivals just then, because, from what he could see, they were potentially harmless and friendly.
Of course, Sam had to pull out a gun just then. While Dean followed suit, of course. There wasn't any pointing done to anyone, but that didn't mean the presence of the guns were calming.
The Doctor pulled a face. "So many guns."
"Dean, I really think it unnecessary for guns to get involved with this situation," Castiel said to reassure the pair.
They cautiously tucked their guns away, standing up slowly as if they would be attacked at any moment.
The Doctor cheered up and went across the control board of the TARDIS, opening a slot to their left. "Right now, weapons in the slot, if all of you plan to travel in the TARDIS with me."
"Who said we're traveling with you? What's a TARDIS?" Dean perked up with an agitated voice. "Why do you all have accents? And what are you going to do with my gun?"
"Mm, incinerate it."
"What?"
"I need order here and you're not exactly orderly when you point a gun at my face."
"I wasn't pointing anything at your face."
"Well…You were going to point it sooner or later."
"Dean, stop arguing with him," Castiel said as he tried to break the awkward tension between the Doctor and Dean.
"We need to get that phoenix ash or else we won't be able to get back in time and defeat that Mother of All thing!" Sam looked panicked and weary and just not in the mood to be fooled around with at this point.
Dean suddenly thought of a harsh and frightening situation, and couldn't help but to suck in his breath with pained worry. "Cas… If we didn't land in the right time… Are we in the future or…?"
"Oh, no, you're in a different universe all together. No worries about that possibly very dull life of yours." The Doctor smiled. He was so optimistic that Dean couldn't help but pity him. Probably never even fought a demon. No, he corrected himself, he definitely did not ever fight a demon. Wait, did he just say we're in another universe?
The Doctor messed with the control board frantically. "Now… Let me just turn on the alternate carburetor chamber and insert this thingamajig so we could get to another universe… Maybe we can control the coordinates and…" The TARDIS jerked violently and Dean, Sam, Castiel, and John were thrown onto the floor – while Sherlock got flung down the ramp and slammed against the door. "Well… Maybe not. It looks like it goes randomly without coordinates. Hm. Probably random in a specific order." The Doctor continued pushing buttons and pulling levers, unscathed by the shake of the TARDIS.
"Did you say we're in another universe?" Dean asked the Doctor while trying to clear his pounding head.
"Hmm…? Oh, that. Yes. You're in a different universe."
"…And?"
The Doctor glanced at Dean briefly before concentrating on the control panel again. "And what? You're in another universe, possibly because you were time traveling and something went wrong, and you ended up here…" The Doctor pulled one final lever, and the TARDIS stabilized. He looked at Dean with a questioning gaze. "But why did you land in my TARDIS?"
"There were holes in the time vortex. One of them was blue, like your machinery. I was pulled towards it against my will." Castiel now wore suspicion on his face.
The Doctor didn't notice. Instead, he took the top out of the carburetor and studied it again. It had turned from a metallic silver to pure gold – and not just in color. It was gold, from the soft texture of it. The Doctor scanned it with his sonic screwdriver, but there were no readings, and then... Well, the screwdriver melted. The Doctor recoiled his hand away from the suddenly very hot, lump of liquid metal. It fell to the floor with a hissing thump, already solid, not two inches from where Sam was standing. He quickly backed away from the steaming clump.
"What?!" The Doctor was in disbelief. "What?! That… That's not possible, that…" He picked up the disfigured piece of screwdriver. "…WHAT?!"
He looked at it with a sense of sadness. "…I love my screwdriver."
The Doctor went over to the slot that he'd opened before and gently slid the metal down. There was a sizzling sound, and he walked back slowly to the control panel, staring blankly at it.
"…NOW then, beyond those doors can be anywhere in space and time and maybe not even in the same universe as yours. I set the TARDIS to random, and with that thingamabober's help, it goes through so many options. It could be a planet in the outer stretches of the Andromeda galaxy or the Spatial Intergalactic Void and Laboratory of the Tenth Dimension, otherwise known as the SIV and Sorts. Or we could be in the 13th century, full medieval experience, anything you could ever want in a castle, and no terribly lethal weapons, which is always a bonus, or rather, in the future, the year 159,265, when the first nine digits of pi is spelled out on March 14th, 159,265, 3.14159265. Now THAT…" The Doctor walked towards the TARDIS door. "…is what is called amazing."
The rest stared with awe.
Of course, this was just a small interference with their daily routines, which were all exciting, wonderful, yet stuck, trapped in their own little bubble. All of them knew somehow that with the Doctor, they could escape from their own worries and responsibilities, and for once be the peasant instead of the king.
