Author's Note: Some happiness! A rare commodity in both "Supernatural" and "Doctor Who", so everybody enjoy it while they can! And I'm finding writing this very therapeutic after the new "Supernatural" season premier which just pummeled me with feelings, so I hope it's as gratifying to read as it was to write. :)

There was no logical reason for Dean to be jealous. They were going to find his brother, after all, as soon as they got out of this room. Just because he wasn't first in line for the sibling reunion was no reason to get all angsty.

But nonetheless he felt a twinge as he watched Martha embrace her sister, because a childish part of him was crying I've waited longer. Still, after what was essentially forty years of believing he'd never see Sammy again, he could wait another half hour. He'd wait as long as it took.

Hell, he had waited as long as it took.

As they made their cautious, wary way towards Sam's room, they found themselves in a completely abandoned hallway. Apparently pretty sure of that assessment, Tish glanced backwards and whispered to Martha, "Who are your friends?"

"This is Dean, and that's Castiel," Martha whispered.

Tish's eyes widened, and she stared at Dean. "You're Dean?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied, slowly, giving Cas a confused look. The angel returned it with predictable equanimity.

"Don't," Martha whispered, putting a hand on Tish's arm. The sisters shared a glance, and Martha continued, "Our timelines aren't synched. He's just met me."

"Like eight months ago," Dean protested.

There was something weird in the look Martha sent him, something fragile that quickly hardened, and she said, "But nothing that she knows about from our time together has happened for you yet, Dean. She can't tell you." She turned her gaze to her sister, and said, "You can't."

"All right," Tish whispered in return, watching her sister in what looked like concern. A series of minute gestures were shared between them—a glance, a tiny shake of the head, the lift of an eyebrow. Dean recognized a sibling code when he saw it, and didn't attempt to decipher it or question it. The smile Martha turned to him when the 'conversation' was finished was not the most convincing she'd ever attempted, but he didn't remark on it.

He glanced back at Castiel, ready to share a women, huh? look with the angel (although he didn't expect a lot of success with that endeavor), but Castiel had a weird look on his face, too. It kind of looked like sympathy, but Dean didn't want to consider the implications of that, so he put it out of his mind.

"How much farther is it?" he asked instead of any of the thousand questions he was pretty sure he didn't want answers to, given the confusing expressions of all of the people he was surrounded by.

"Not much," Tish whispered back, "but there'll be more guards closer to Sam's room. We'll have to keep a good eye out and—"

"Against the wall," Castiel ordered, and there was some note of command in his voice that had all three humans instantly obeying him and pressing themselves against the wall, Martha, Dean noticed, slightly angled in front of Tish.

Tish might be older, but she was Martha's Sammy, and he could see that.

Castiel stood in front of them, head turned to look over his shoulder, and Dean felt a disturbance in the air, heard that soft rustling sound that always marked the angel's appearance. For a moment he braced himself to be transported somewhere, but the ground stayed where it was supposed to and his stomach didn't make that awful lurching feeling, so he guessed they were staying put.

"Don't make a sound," Castiel breathed, and Dean wondered how even when barely vocalizing at all the angel still managed to sound gravelly.

Tish and Martha both nodded, but when Castiel looked to Dean for his affirmation, all the Hunter could do was meet his eyes.

But it was more than that, more than just making eye contact, more than just waiting. Dean knew that it was a look he hadn't given anyone since he was a kid prepping for a hunt with his dad. It was a look that said I'll follow you. That I trust you to take care of me.

He didn't give Sammy that look when they would hunt together, because taking care of him wasn't Sammy's job. And if it came down to saving him or getting out, Dean expected Sam to run. But Sam gave him that look, before a hunt.

It was weird, feeling it form on his features. Unfamiliar, archaic. But he didn't stop it, because he meant it. And something changed in Castiel's eyes as he recognized it, Dean knew, for what it was and for the fullness of what it meant.

The look only lasted for a second, but Dean knew that in that moment they finally understood each other and what they were. And Dean felt safe, even here, in the heart of his enemy's base. He could feel himself relax against the wall, waiting for Castiel's word on what to do next. Not waiting for orders—just waiting for the next step.

Finally his ears could catch voices down the hallway, and despite the fact that as far as he could tell they were all still totally out in the open, Cas standing there in his trench coat 'hiding' them like something out of a cartoon, he just tilted his head to try to hear better.

"...say it's happening tomorrow," the first voice, a woman, was saying as they came into earshot. "That the Master's going to launch them tomorrow."

"And then what?" the second voice, this one a younger man, asked. "Do you know what happens next?"

Footsteps echoed down the hallway through the silence that fell. "No," the woman admitted. "I just know that the Master says we have to watch Sam Winchester closely in the hours leading up to the final strike."

That seemed to take Soldier Two aback, as he asked, "What, is the Master afraid that he's going to double-cross him?"

"Not as such," Soldier One replied as they came into view. Dean held his breath, and saw Martha and Tish grasp each other's hands. "But he's human, you know? The Master's afraid he won't have...the courage for what has to be done." She stiffened and stopped, putting a hand in front of her companion to stop. "Did you hear something?"

Soldier Two looked around, gripping his gun, but just looked startled and alarmed. No hint of recognition crossed his features when his eyes scanned across Dean and the others. "No," he admitted. "Did you?"

Soldier One hesitated, her eyes flicking over the space that Castiel was covering, then she sighed. "No, I guess not."

Dean exhaled slowly and silently as they started to walk away.

"It's not like anyone can stop it, anyway," Soldier Two said, a hint of moroseness in his voice. "The missiles are all ready to launch. The Master hits that button, it's over."

"At least it'll be over," Soldier One said quietly, as they turned a corner and disappeared from view.

Castiel waited a moment, unmoving, and then stepped back. It felt like a weight was lifted off of all of them, although not in any way Dean could articulate. The angel glanced in the direction that the soldiers had gone in, and then gestured for them to continue in the opposite direction. No one hesitated.

The hall was quiet again as they crept along the wall, and Dean whispered to Martha, "Your timing is impeccable. It's all going down tomorrow? You are just...Johnny on the spot."

Martha flashed a grin at him. "I do what I can," she whispered back. "Gives us a hell of a deadline. But we work well on deadlines."

"Emphasis on dead," Dean quipped, and Martha stifled a laugh.

"Ugh," Tish groaned, "get a room, you two."

That sobered Martha instantly, and she shot her sister a glare that almost seemed panicked. Tish swallowed, and stopped at a corner, peering around. When she was content that the way was clear, she gestured for the others to follow her.

Once everyone was around the corner, Tish gestured to the third door on the left-hand side. "This is Sam's room," she said. Dean felt his heart lift at her words. "I'm going to go in first. There aren't any cameras in his room—he had the Master take them away—but I don't want to startle him, and he spends a lot of time meditating, so—"

Dean had stopped listening after "this is Sam's room".

He threw the door open, careful that it didn't slam against the wall, and stood in the doorway of his brother's quarters. Sam was already on his feet by the time Dean's eyes found him, and the brothers stood, staring at each other, for a long moment.

Dean heard Tish and Martha and Castiel arrive behind him, and as he staggered a few steps forward the others crowded behind him and Tish closed the door quietly, but he wasn't looking anywhere but at Sammy.

Sammy, alive. Safe. With him.

His kid brother took in a shuddering breath and whispered, "Dean?"

Dean grinned, and opened his arms. "Hey, Sammy," he replied.

Sam walked up to him, slowly, dazed, as unable to convince himself that it wasn't a dream. Dean stayed where he was, willing to wait for Sam. Willing to wait forever, now that he could see Sam in front of him, could prove to himself that Sam was actually, really okay. For the first time in forty years, he could see for himself that his sacrifice had been worth it, because Sammy was okay. He could wait for the inevitable hug.

But he didn't have to wait long, as Sam threw himself at his brother. Dean braced himself just in time, catching his brother's bulk—lessened though it was, as Dean noticed with no small alarm. His brother still had several inches on him, of course, but he was much slighter than Dean remembered. The way his arms fit around the kid was different. Sam hadn't been eating, and it sent an irrational stab of guilt through Dean.

Supposed to take care of him. It's your job.

"God, you're alive, you're really alive," Sam was murmuring, and Dean snapped back to the present. The present, where he was holding his brother, where they were both alive and safe. He swallowed down a lump of emotion that rose in his throat, and pulled back, holding Sam at arm's length.

"And you look like crap," he shot back, rewarded by a priceless attempt at a bitch face that couldn't quite break through the unadulterated relief that permeated Sam's features. "What, I'm gone for a year and you stop eating? Trying to come join the party downstairs?"

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, looking pained, and Dean punched him in the shoulder. "Dammit, Dean, that's not funny."

"No, it's not," Dean said cheerfully, "and when we get off this damn ship I'm gonna stuff you so full of burgers you'll never want to see a sesame seed again."

He was going to continue, but he noticed that Sam's gaze had left him and fixed behind his shoulder. His instincts sent a rush of adrenaline through him and he turned expecting a fight, but the end of Sam's eye line went to Castiel, who was watching the exchange quietly and met Sam's eyes, his own slightly narrowed.

"Sammy, that's Castiel," Dean said softly, guessing that the direct approach was...maybe not the best, but perhaps the only possible way to get this over with. He just hoped his brother was going to accept the idea of angels existing better than he had. "He's—"

"The angel who saved you from Hell," Sam finished, and Dean stared at him. "The Doctor told me." He stepped past Dean and stuck his hand out to Castiel. "I just...I can't thank you enough. For saving him. I can never repay you."

Castiel watched the extended hand for a moment, and then, to Dean's surprise, took it between both of his. "There is no repayment expected or required," the angel said. "So you are Sam Winchester."

Dean watched as Sam seemed to brace himself—for what, he didn't know, but Sam looked like he was waiting for a shoe to drop.

"The brother who kept Dean fighting," Castiel continued, and Sam exhaled. "He speaks very highly of you. He and Martha both. I am gratified to see you safe and well."

"Thank you," Sam breathed. "Thank you so much. Seriously. I don't—I can't—" He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, composing himself. Then he turned to Martha. "And you, you must be Martha!"

"I am," Martha said, and Dean recognized that quiet sadness from when they'd met. "It's good to see you, Sam."

"I'm sorry you have to do this," Sam said, and Martha frowned. "With me and Dean and Bobby and Castiel not remembering you. It's got to be hard, keeping all of those secrets, having to be so careful with what you say."

"It is," Martha said, her features evening. "I...thank you, Sam." She looked away for a moment, and then rolled her shoulders back and said, "Look, much as I don't want to be the one to interrupt this moment, we don't have time to waste. The Master's plan goes down tomorrow so we have until morning to find everyone and prepare ourselves. Sam, can you get away with us without causing a fuss?"

"Saxon's not expecting me for anything until the morning," he replied. "I told him I needed tonight to meditate. So no one will miss me."

"Then we need to find Jack," Martha said. "Tish?"

"I can get us there," Tish said. "The engine room's not far. There's always a guard posted, though, so we'll have to find a way to get rid of him. He's posted at the only entrance to where Jack is held."

"I doubt that it will pose a difficulty," Castiel said, his words only more threatening for their lack of inflection.

Sam looked startled and turned to Dean, wide-eyed. Dean burst out laughing, controlling his volume after a moment, and said, "Sammy, you've got a lot to get used to."

Sam recovered and grinned along with his brother. "Just glad I get the opportunity to get used to it," he said.

"We should go," Castiel said, sounding, if Dean wasn't imagining it, a touch regretful. Dean glanced at him, and the angel, sure enough, looked sorry. "We will have more time for proper reunions once the planet is safe from Harold Saxon."

Tish was already at the door scouting the hallway, and Dean muttered to Sam, "Isn't that always how it is?"

"Thought you didn't like chick flick moments," Sam replied, and Dean glared at him, then shrugged.

"Traveling with a girl for as long as I did, guess you get used to them," he admitted. When Sam didn't reply he looked up at his brother, whose expression had softened.

"Did she find you...soon? After?" he asked, unable to say the words Dean knew he meant.

"Very," Dean assured him. "Same day. I wasn't alone, Sammy. I'm just sorry you were."

"I wasn't, either," Sam said. Then he paused, looking to the side, and said, "The Doctor says he's glad to know you're all safe."

Martha jolted, staring at Sam with wide eyes. "What did you say?" she demanded.

"The Doctor," Sam repeated. "He's...he can talk to me in my head. It's complicated," he added, off of Dean's incredulous look. "It's a long story. But he's here."

"That could prove useful," Castiel remarked, although the look he gave Sam was slightly askance.

"Tell the Doctor to hang on," Martha said. "We're on our way."

Sam grinned. "He says he knows, and he says you're even more brilliant than he thought," Sam said. "So, uh, allons-y, he says."

Martha stifled a laugh behind her fist, and when Tish gave the all-clear, they began to make their way down the hall towards the engine room.

And if Dean stayed a little closer to Sam than he usually did, if he let their shoulders bump once or twice just to make sure that he wasn't imagining his brother next to him, he thought it could be forgiven.