Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Doctor Who or any of the related right.

A/N: Building up to a game-changing ending to this "book", so sorry the build is slow, but it's got to be done just right in my head ;) Also, if you're inclined to pray, please send prayers/warm thoughts my family's way. My uncle died suddenly and unexpectedly at the end of April, and we're still recovering.

Dean forced himself to breathe. In and then out. His body seemed to have forgotten how to do that.

"Well," he said, at last, "that explains a lot."

The Time War.

It was such a big title, something that sounded ominous and . . . final. And it was. It was the darkness that Martha Jones had seen, the thing she talked about when she said the Doctor was much scarier than appearances suggested.

"Yeah," the Doctor said. He had gone quiet. Not that Dean could blame him. There weren't many things that could stop that mouth of his, but Dean had to admit that this was easily the show-stopper of a lifetime.

He tried to imagine it, but he found that it was actually too big for him. And Dean had a pretty big imagination, so that was saying a lot.

But he really couldn't. Half the things the Doctor talked about made no sense to him. The weapons he talked about, the way time and space were things to be used to hurt the enemy rather than things to be respected. It didn't make any sense.

And worst of all was the image Dean couldn't get out of his head: the idea of the Doctor standing in the middle of all that carnage, and—worse—knowing that he had caused it all.

Dean was actually very glad the Doctor waited until now to tell him. He wasn't sure he could take it if the Doctor had told him before, back when Dean was still trying to decide if his new acquaintance was friend or foe.

Dean had been pretty sure the Doctor was a friend, but . . . .

"Just . . . ." Dean took a deep breath that whistled through his teeth. "Just promise me that you don't go around making a habit of killing entire planets, huh?"

The Doctor stared straight ahead.

"That was a joke, Doc."

"I'm sure it was, Dean."

Dean gulped and gripped the steering wheel tighter. He almost reached for the dial to turn the radio on—he was starting to notice the silence—but it felt almost like it would be an intrusion. The silence was a shield. The Doctor needed it. Dean needed it.

"Not sure I like this version of you, Doc," Dean said.

"I don't like it much, either, if it makes you feel any better," the Doctor said. "Left here."

Dean started in surprise. He was usually a good driver. The best driver, actually. It wasn't like him to miss turns or screw up directions.

Man, this whole Time War thing had really messed with his head.

Dean made the turn, and after only a few more miles of silence, they made it to the house Sam and Martha were investigating.

They pulled up in their Impala at about the same time another car pulled up. It looked official, and Dean wondered for a moment if they shouldn't turn around and avoid a confrontation with the real authorities, but then he saw the person stepping out of the car.

They had an official-looking suitcase, and on the outside was printed the name "Caan."

Dean frowned for just a moment when he realized he'd been spelling it "Kahn" in his head this whole time (thanks, Star Trek) before he glanced over at the Doctor—and that's when he really started to panic.

The Doctor's eyes were wide, and his knuckles were white.

"Doc?"

"We've got to get Sam and Martha out of there," the Doctor said through gritted teeth.

Dean nodded grimly and jumped out of the car, his hand close enough to the gun in his back pocket to be comforting but not close enough to draw suspicion from anyone who wasn't looking too closely. He was halfway to the door when he saw it open, and Sam and Martha stepped out, looking surprised to suddenly have an audience.

The Doctor must have been right on Dean's heels, because Dean could hear the guy's sigh of relief right behind him. He turned to grin at the Doctor, but then he saw something else.

The woman, in her important-looking heels and dress suit, was approaching them, her eyes on the Doctor. She had a sharp face and bright red lipstick, and she looked like trouble.

"Doc?" Dean nudged the Doctor to get his attention.

The Doctor turned to see the woman, but all he did was give a heavy sigh and mutter, "Ah."

Dean glanced over at his brother, who was still standing in the doorway with a question in his expression: What do you need me to do?

Dean shook his head. Don't do anything. Gotta think. Figure this thing out.

Sam crossed his arms and didn't look happy with Dean, but Sam was being nice to Dean. The whole last-year-on-Earth did have some perks, after all.

Dean turned his attention back to the severe woman, who had by now reached him and the Doctor. She looked the pair of them over and tutted, then stuck her hand out for the Doctor to shake. "You're the Doctor, I presume?"

The Doctor regarded her hand coldly, but then he broke out into a smile in such a sudden mood change that Dean got whiplash. (And he suddenly wondered just how many smiles the Doctor had been using as shields, the way this smile was now.) "That's me!" the Doctor beamed, taking her hand with one of his and using the other to slip his glasses out of his pocket and onto his face. "And who might you be?"

"Vanessa Ledger," the woman said. She had a flat, emotionless voice. "I've been sent to fetch you."

"Oh?" the Doctor asked genially, as if he'd just been invited to tea. "And who's our host, might I ask?"

Vanessa just smiled grimly. "I'm sure you've already been introduced."

The Doctor frowned, but only for a second. "Yes, well, let's go then, Dean. Time to make new friends!" He ushered Dean forward with one arm around Dean's shoulder, and Dean thought about pushing him off before he realized that the Doctor was doing this on purpose. Leading Vanessa away from Sam and Martha.

Dean grinned. "Yeah, sure, Doc. You know me. I'm a people person."

Sam noticed Martha go still beside him when she saw the woman in red approaching Dean and the Doctor.

"Inside," she hissed, pulling him just behind the door.

Sam knew better, at this point, than to argue with Martha, so he let her drag him along. "Do you know her?" he asked as he watched the Doctor shake her hand and smile like they were old friends.

"No," she said slowly, her frown deepening. "But I recognize the name on the briefcase."

Sam frowned. "And?"

He watched as Martha struggled to keep a neutral expression. "It means we've got to do something before the Doctor does something he'll regret."

Sam arched an eyebrow at her, but she didn't seem to be too forthcoming with the explanations. So, instead, he sighed. "Okay. What do you suggest?" He was struggling to fight the rising panic in his chest, because Dean was still out there with the Doctor, and Martha seemed to be acting like this was end-of-the-world type of serious. At least, that's what her expression told him.

Martha's mouth pressed into a line so thin that Sam was pretty sure it was impossible. Finally, she said, "You got the keys to the Impala?"