"I look ridiculous."
"You look fine."
"Dude, I can feel a breeze. Down there. It's uncomfortable!"
"I always found the sensation liberating."
"Well, the sooner we can change outta these robes and back into real clothes, the better."
"Old jeans and a secondhand flannel? That's what you consider real clothes?"
"Says the guy who walks around in tweed and a bowtie."
"Right, you really want to argue fashion sense now?"
"Why not? We argue about everything else."
"Not everything!" the Doctor said indignantly. Before the irony could set in, he added, "Speaking of which, we need to get going."
Dean nodded. Stealing clothes from an outdoor market was the easiest part of the Doc's plan. The whole breaking into town hall part of the plan was bound to make things more complicated.
"And you're sure that piece of paper will get us in?" Dean asked.
The Doctor brought out his psychic paper with a flourish. "It never fails. Almost never."
"Great," Dean said, unimpressed. He frowned, picking up his pace towards town hall.
"Dean," the Doctor said, walking faster to keep up with him. "Believe me, I want to find Clara just as much as much as you want to find Sam. Appearances aside, I am taking this situation seriously. Trust me."
Dean snorted.
"What?" the Doctor asked.
"I don't know the first thing about you. Why would I trust you?"
"My dashing good looks? My soaring intellect?"
"How about you start with what you know about us."
"You and Sam?" the Doctor checked. Dean nodded. "Well, only what I've read."
Dean considered this for a second and groaned. "Freakin' Chuck. I told him not to write anymore of those books! As if the fan convention wasn't bad enough."
The Doctor laughed.
"It's not funny," Dean snapped. "So you know everything about us?"
"Well, not everything," the Doctor assured him. "Rather more than I'd like. The one about the racist truck was a bit—"
"And I don't know anything about you," Dean said before the Doctor could make him relive that particular brand of crazy. "Not where you're from, not what species you are. I don't even know your name."
The Doctor shrugged. "My home's gone, so where I'm from doesn't matter. The rest of my species is dead, so what I am is hardly important. As for my name, everyone just calls me the Doctor. Honestly, the reason I haven't told you much is because there's not much to tell."
Dean stared at him. "Hold on, your entire species is dead, and there's not much to tell?"
"Long time ago now, I try not think about it," the Doctor said, trying to keep his tone light.
"Hey, fair enough. If I lost my entire species, I'd try not to think about it either. Still don't think it'd work." Dean was quiet for a moment. "What happened?"
The Doctor paused, considering how best to word it. "Well, you and your brother managed to stop the Apocalypse. I was—my people weren't as lucky."
"Don't tell me those angel dickbags tried to Judgment Day your planet too," Dean said with sympathy.
The Doctor was silent.
"Okay, sore subject." Dean thought for a second. "How about Clara then, how'd you two meet?"
"She saved my life," said the Doctor, lighting up. "So many times over. So I promised to show her the universe. After all, traveling alone can get rather boring, and Clara's good company. Plus she's brilliant. And attractive."
"Attractive?" Dean said with a smirk.
The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh dear, I didn't actually say that?"
"Man, you've got it bad!" Dean said, laughing.
"Let's keep focused, shall we?" said the Doctor, trying to maintain his dignity.
Dean wasn't about to let that happen. "Wow, you're like a thirteen year old girl with her first crush. Why don't you just man up and tell her how you feel?"
The Doctor stopped, turning to face Dean. "Right, one more word from you, and I'll bring up Castiel."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Can you hear anything?" Sam whispered.
"Clanking?" Clara said, peering through the keyhole. "I think they're looking over some documents right now."
"You know what they're about?"
"Um… No," Clara paused, pressing her ear against the door. "Oh, hang on, now I hear footsteps… They're getting closer—oh."
The door opened, nearly causing Clara to fall over. She quickly regained her balance, and looked up to see a frowning Emersani.
"If asking you to leave and closing the door didn't quite make the message clear, I'd rather the two of you not listen in," he said.
"Oh," Clara said. "See, I thought that might be what you were getting at. Must've misread the signals. Honest mistake though, right Sam?"
"You were a little ambiguous."
Emersani sighed.
"You two," he called. After a confused second, Sam and Clara turned around to see two robed figures passing through the other end of the hall. "I'd like it if you could escort Sam and Clara to a more suitable place for them to pass the time. Preferably somewhere very far away from this room."
The two men nodded, gently grabbing Sam and Clara by the arm. Emersani watched as the four of them marched off, finally closing the door only when they were out of sight.
Clara looked up at the man holding her arm. "How the hell did you manage to get in here?"
"Sonic screwdriver, a bit of theft, and psychic paper. How do I manage to get in anywhere?" he answered.
"Hold off the reunion till we make it outside," said Dean, still holding Sam's arm. "We stick around much longer, someone's gonna notice we don't belong here."
"We thought you guys were dead," Sam said.
"Did you? Really?" Dean said, raising his eyebrow.
"Well, okay, not really, but I was still worried."
Dean rolled his eyes, but the Doctor didn't fail to notice the tight grip Dean kept on his brother's arm, and the relief that had swept over him when he'd first seen his lit—um, younger brother safe and unharmed. The group managed to walk out of the building without much trouble, and soon found a secluded back alley so they could regroup.
"So, Clara, I'm afraid we're in quite a bit of trouble," the Doctor started, once he was sure no one would overhear them.
"Yeah, well nevermind that," Clara said. "Doctor, there's Cybermen on this planet!"
"Oh, that's what I was going to say," said the Doctor. "Well that's good, isn't it?
"Good?" Dean said, crossing his arms.
"Well, yes," the Doctor said cheerily. "Imagine if I had a different problem to Clara's. Then we'd have two problems."
"Considering the giant bubble surrounding this planet, I'd say we do," Clara said.
"Plus the TARDIS not taking off, that gets us up to three," Sam added.
"My count's around the fifteen range. You want me to list 'em?" Dean said.
"Are the three of you determined to be cynical about this?" the Doctor said with a pout. "Optimistically speaking, there's a strong likelihood that all of our problems are one in the same."
"And pessimistically speaking, that's one gigantic problem," said Dean.
"Yeah, well I was listening in on a meeting between the governor and a Cyberman," said Clara. The Doctor and Dean turned to her in shock. "And brace yourselves. Our problem is about to get a whole lot worse."
AN: Finally got around to writing again. Woohoo! I decided that Dean and the Doctor should have a little bonding time, so there's not a ton of plot in this chapter. But rest assured, I do know where the story is headed! Well, vaguely, but you should never do anything with certainty! I certainly don't, and- wait...