Six
The Ghost Ship
The TARDIS hummed softly, but John's head thundered. It hadn't quite sunk in yet. In just a few short hours, he'd learn that not only were aliens real, every supernatural creature was real too.
He looked over at Sherlock. He had that look on his face. The second look; the 'I'm being a nosy bugger' face as opposed to the usual 'we both really know what's going on here' face – 'we' meaning 'I' of course. John hated this face almost as much as the first. Things always ended badly with that face. Either, Sherlock got punched, or someone else got punched. Coincidently, it was the same face he was wearing when they first met Dean and Sam.
Either way, things just got serious.
It was at times like this that John was reminded of something Mycroft had said to him about Sherlock: "He wanted to be a pirate." Somehow that one simple statement had explained so much about the mysterious man, opening him up and humanizing him in a way John had never seen before. He wondered, despite all their feuds, if Mycroft actually did understand his brother, his needs, his hopes, his ideas and so on, and if he shared this particular piece of information when it held no relevance to what they were talking about because Mycroft - dare he say it - cared.
Beneath the control panel, inside the TARDIS, there was a large space that opened out. In the centre was a metallic tree trunk-like structure which lead up through the floor and joined the console.
Sherlock ran his hands along the smooth metal with pale hands and long fingers like he was searching for something. He noticed a rectangular sheet covering something up. Behind him, John watched him and suddenly realised how insanely normal this was, if you ignored the location. Sherlock wedged open the panel with his lock-pick, and behind it there was a branch of wires strung together.
"I don't think you should touch that."
Yellow sparks exploded with a high-pitched whir as Sherlock did just the opposite. Thankfully he was fine – he'd jumped back just in time not to get scalded. John sighed and shook his head.
Suddenly, the Doctor's head appeared, hanging down from the upper level. "Oi!" he cried, "What are you doing to my TARDIS? You're supposed to be up here giving me impressed looks!"
John coughed. He headed back up the steps, ducking under the Doctor's head with a polite "excuse me." Upstairs, Dean was sat in one of the leather seats, digging his fingers into the fabric, and shakily humming Metallica under his breath. Sam was leaning against the railing, waiting patiently, while the angel Castiel was stood by the console. John slumped down in the leather seat opposite side of Dean.
Meanwhile Sherlock slammed the cover back into its proper place. "Boring!" he chirped, sending a patronising smile at the Doctor.
The Doctor's mouth fell open. "My TARDIS is not boring!"
"Not interesting enough for me, I'm afraid." He quirked an eyebrow at the Doctor, his eyes narrowing just a fraction - daringly so.
The Doctor held his gaze for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, fine." he said, "You want to be impressed. I'll impress you!"
John cringed. This was going to be the start of World War III, he just knew it! Sherlock couldn't stand having anyone else more impressive than he was; soaking up all the attention he wanted. That's why Sherlock and Mycroft could barely stand each other, and no one else could stand it when they were together. Unfortunately, the Doctor was not Mycroft. He was worse. He had the intelligence, the charm, the wit, and even had the better toys which made him all the more superior to Mycroft in Sherlock's mind. John imagined that Sherlock thought that if the Doctor could be beaten, then he'd be superior in every way. John suddenly imagined what it would be like to have the Holmes brothers and the Doctor all in one room, and he shuddered at the thought.
The Doctor stood and dashed to the control panel, hitting a few buttons and switches. "It's been a while since we've had this many guests, ay old girl?" The Doctor said, patting the console fondly. The TARDIS hummed in response, a sound from deep within the engine like the purring of a cat.
At this, Sam looked up curiously. He saw the way the Doctor stroked the TARDIS, heard the way he said 'she' – at first Sam thought it was like what Dean did with the Impala, 'Baby', and that he did it out of fondness for the machine. But this was different. The way the Doctor said 'she' was almost like the TARDIS was a friend rather than a pet or procession. It was said in a polite, but teasing manner. And then there was the way the TARDIS responded…
"It's alive!" Sam realised, belatedly, unable to stop the words slipping out in his surprise.
"Don't be ridiculous." Sherlock muttered, as he came back up the steps, "A machine can't be alive."
At this, the Doctor looked outraged and was about to comment that the TARDIS was not a machine, but Castiel beat him to it. It was the first time he'd spoken since entering the TARDIS, although his silence wasn't due to shock, but more due to the warm familiarity of the place. He was stood with his palm pressed to the console and his eyes closed. The others didn't know this, apart from the Doctor, but Castiel had joined his consciousness with that of the TARDIS and was talking to her. "She's not a machine." He said, opening his eyes and drawing his palm away, "The TARDIS is a celestial being inside an intermolecular shell."
"A celestial being?" Sam echoed, "You mean it's – she's – like an angel? And, what, this -" he gestured to the space around them with his finger, "- is like a vessel?"
Castiel nodded, "That is the basic principle. You see…"
He was cut off by the sharp scolding sound of the Doctor's clap.
"Okay." he said, pointing a thumb at the TARDIS monitor, "The TARDIS has detected the trails of Time Dispersal Energy coming from Wester Drumlins. There's only two of them, which means there are two people we can rescue, and hopefully one of them is Jack." He pushed a lever, "Now, these trails don't last long – I'm not sure how long, but one of them is already fading – so we'll need to be quick. We're following the one that's fading so hopefully the other one will still be there when we get back. Let's have a look, shall we?"
The TARDIS hummed and the green column began to move up and down. The journey was much smoother this time round, although the ship still rattled and bumped against Dean's nerves, and the others still had to cling to something so they wouldn't fall over. The action-packed thrill of the first trip was clearly to impress the new guests. After a moment TARDIS stopped with a hollow clunk. The hums and whirs echoed into an anticipating silence. Everyone sat still for a moment, looking at one another, until each of them turned curiously to the doors. A brand new destination lay just beyond them – wherever that trail that taken them. Not even the Doctor knew. In truth, he didn't want to.
John was the first to ask, "Where are we?"
An excited grin spread over the Doctor's face. "I don't know." He whispered. In a blur, he pushed himself away from the console and bounded to the doors. Hesitantly, the others followed, until the Doctor suddenly halted and spun round to face them. "Actually, I do know!"
The others frowned at him.
"We're in the past." He whispered mysteriously, "Right through those doors are the days long, long gone! Forget everything you thought you knew about the past, because this is the door to the truth." Without turning from the others, he clasped the handles, "There could be anything out there – no, there's everything." He glanced at Sherlock, "Are you ready?"
He opened the TARDIS doors.
White light pooled onto their faces, momentarily blinding them in a moment of crackling tension. Dean shielded the light from his eyes and his eyebrows raised high at what he saw.
"Beds." Dean said.
The Doctor deflated faster than a balloon popping, "…Beds."
"Looks like a crappy motel." Dean continued, the voice of experience, as the others stepped out the TARDIS one by one and looked around. Luckily, the room was empty and no one had witnessed the impossible blue box appearing from nowhere, and the six men stepping out of the tiny space, like a circus act.
Frowning, the Doctor slammed the TARDIS doors shut. "Okay, fine. Beds!" he said, "But! We're still in the past!"
No one was paying attention to him. Sherlock gave the Doctor a smug grin. The Doctor struggled to think of a witty retort and eventually turned away.
Across the room, Sam found a small leather-bound book underneath the pillow of one of the beds. It was quite heavy for such a small thing, and it was filled to bursting, the crispy pages hard brown from ageing. He opened it to a random page. There was a mass of un-neat scrawling, barely readable, on the page he was looking at. However, the date stood out in the middle of the page, circled and underlined, having some significance to the person who wrote it. "-'12th April 1912.'-" he read aloud, glancing up at Dean with raised eyebrows. Sam looked back at the journal. "This book looks older, though."
"Give it to me." Sherlock held out his hand towards Sam, but was too busy looking through someone else's belongings to spare him a glance.
Sam handed him the journal.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, what will the great Sherlock Holmes deduce this time?" he said in an over-dramatic voice like the one the narrator would put on after the cliff hanger of a retro cartoon show.
"Stop talking. Brain thinking. Shush."
The Doctor laughed.
Sherlock turned the journal over in his hands, familiarising the pads of his fingers with the roughness of it's surface. He opened up the cover and read the first few lines. Something about what was written there had intrigued him because his eyes widened a fraction. After a moment, he closed the book and said, "It's from the 1500's to 1600's."
"How did you work that out?" asked John.
"It's made from laid paper, which was the only type of paper used in those days."
Dean rolled his eyes, again. "So the dude likes vintage crap, who cares?" he said. He gestured to the exit, "Don't we have a Marty Mcfly to rescue?"
"I don't understand." Castiel said, "I thought we were looking for Jack."
Sherlock glanced up from the journal, "Who is Marty Mcfly?"
"Wait a minute." Sam bit back a smirk, "You know how to identify paper from touching it, but you haven't seen 'Back to the Future'?"
"That's nothing." John said, "He doesn't even know that the earth goes round the sun."
Dean burst into laughter. Sam pressed his lips together to stop him from doing the same. Sherlock gave John a murderous glare. John could only shrug apologetically. Dean almost doubled over from laughing, "What did you skip grade school?" he cried hysterically.
Sherlock sighed loudly, "My god, it's not important!"
The Doctor said, "Stars are important."
"Moving on." Sherlock hissed at him, moving towards the door. He tucked the journal into his coat and then pulled the collars up so they framed his cheekbones, as an act to protect his dignity.
Dean stared at him, still smirking, "Oh dude, I can't believe you've never seen 'Back to the Future'!"
"Moving on!"
They left the TARDIS inside the room and stepped out into a long narrow corridor. At each end of the corridor there was a hip-high gate. They turned right and made they way down - lead by curiosity, but lead back by caution. About halfway down the corridor, Sherlock stopped and inhaled deeply through his nose. "Salt water." He murmured, trying to scrape some precious glory from the small deduction, "This is a cruise ship." When the group reached the end of the corridor, it steered right and left. On the wall there was a sign that said 'E Deck.' After climbing over the gate, they found a flight of stairs nearby and went up two levels before they got an inkling as to where they were. They turned off the stairs and towards where the sunlight and laughter beckoned them. When they stepped out into the fresh air the daylight, their eyes widened.
"Ahh, gentlemen." The Doctor smiled, throwing his arms out, "Welcome to the Titanic!"
They stood on the bow, mesmerised by the sight. The vast ocean was clear blue, spreading out before the deck like a blanket and the deck glowed in the sunlight, reaching out to the sea with a pointed tip. People were also on the deck - and this was most fascinating. Most of the women wore floral dresses, and some wore large fancy hats, decorated with ribbons and feathers. Other women wore more similar dresses, pain brown or blue ones, with long skirts. The men wore dark trousers, or dungarees, with plain white or blue shirts. Some of them wore ties. Others wore bow-ties. Some hats. Most of them had a long coat on. Oddly enough, with his clothes, the Doctor seemed to compliment this era well.
"Right!" the Doctor spun round to the others, raising a his hands when he spoke, "We need to search this whole ship top to bottom – or bottom to top, which would probably be easier: You know, I wonder why people actually say top to bottom. If it was a building then, yeah, that would make sense so you can…" he did a double take, "Oi!"
The others were already wondering off.
The Doctor stomped after them, "You know, it's a good thing this isn't a life-threatening planet, but there are still rules!"
Since Dean and Sam had gone on trips through time several times before, they had a different reaction to the Titanic than the Doctor was expecting but he put two-and-two together and noted that Castiel – who was more interested in the humans than the ship itself – must have taken them on a few adventures. He smiled at that. Good old, Castiel. Still adventuring even after... Just as soon as the smile appeared, it disappeared. The Doctor quickly pushed away the thought and went to round up the rest of the group before one of them got lost.
The Winchesters glanced round curiously – Dean eyeing some of the ladies that went by and Sam admiring the architecture of the Titanic. Dean playfully nudged his brother. "Every nerds dream, right?"
"Shut up." Sam scoffed, but he didn't take his eyes off the ship, thus proving Dean's point.
All the while, John was staring up with wonder at the red, black-tipped, funnels towering above the ship, as black smoke poured out of the first three. They were certainly a sight compared to the pictures he'd seen in his school text books. He glanced round to the bow of the ship and inhaled the cool salty air, a content smile on his face. When the Doctor caught up to him, the alien man smiled at him. He pointed at the funnels. "The fourth one's fake." he said, "They only needed three, but they thought four would make the ship look more impressive."
John stared at them a moment longer. He whispered, "This is...impossible. Fantastic, but impossible."
The Doctor grinned at him, "I know." His finger shot up and John almost flinched, "But! We have a mission, remember?"
"Oh, yeah!" Dean said with fake enthusiasm, "Find Jack, or whoever, on a ship with over 2000 people? Ha! Good luck with that one!"
"Over 2200 actually…" Sam said behind a cough.
There was certainly a lot of people where they were stood now. There was at least fifty at any one time, all coming and going like fleeting dreams. And to search the whole ship for just one? One they weren't even sure would be there? It seemed impossible.
John looked round and suddenly froze, realising that there were only five of them when there should of been six. "Where's Sherlock?" he asked, alarmed.
They looked round, and eventually they spotted him stood at the very tip of the bow. John went to go get him. Sherlock leaned over the railing, peering down at the sloshing water, the salty wind ruffling his dark curls, reminding him absently of a childhood dream. He peered into the water as though he was searching for something in the sloshing foam.
The others approached a couple standing together at the railing. The Doctor tapped the lady gently on the shoulder and showed a black leather case that looked like one of the FBI badges Dean and Sam used. "Excuse me." The Doctor said, politely, "I'm with the ship's security. Code-name: The Doctor. These..." he gestured to Dean, Sam and Castiel one by one as he introduced them, "...are my co-workers. Code-names: Jack, the Beanstalk, and the Golden Goose."
None of them were happy about those names.
He proceeded to ask them if they'd seen anyone strange on board the ship. Of course, the strangest looking people were actually Dean, Sam and Castiel themselves - this wasn't actually stated, but Sam could tell they were thinking it, as when the Doctor asked the question, two pairs of eyes slid over to them. However the couple hadn't seen anything else strange. "Okay." the Doctor said, "Thank you for your time." he turned away and Dean was frowning at him.
"Are you serious?" Dean asked, exasperated, "We're going to ask everyone on board for someone we don't even know will be here? How many trails did you say there were? Two? What happens if the person here isn't Jack? How are we supposed to find them?"
"This is a big ship. Over 2200 passengers, remember?" The Doctor said reassuringly, "Someone from the 21st century sticks out like a sore thumb! It'll be fine. Come on, let's ask those lot other there."
They searched on the deck for a while, asking passengers who passed by, but they didn't find anything that suggested there was a lost soul around. After a while, the Doctor decided that it was best to search elsewhere. Seeing this, John quickly tapped Sherlock on the shoulder. "Um...Sherlock. We're going now."
"Hmm?" Sherlock blinked and looked a little lost for a minute. Then he turned sharply, "About time." he spat, "It was tedious waiting!"
So, the Doctor, Dean, Sam, Sherlock, John and Castiel headed up the steps and through the first door they found, which lead them back indoors. The light shift gave the room a green tinge, but it was really a pleasant cream colour, like meringue, and the floor was a polished oak brown. As they walked, Sam asked the Doctor, "So, do you know Jack? You act like you do."
The Doctor nodded, "He's an old friend." He replied, "He used to travel with me."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "And you're certain this is the same Jack?"
The Doctor nodded, again. "I know it is." he said, and that was it - as though that one statement explained all phenomena in the universe.
After a while, they began to notice a change in scenery. The walls around them shifted from pleasant to elegant; gold trim lined the edge where the wall met the floor and more rich shades of reds, blues, and golds, began to dazzle them. Soon a new attraction came into view: the Grand Staircase. The clock atop the stairs chimed as they approached. Their footsteps rang out on the white marble floor. The stairs swooped up, and it's shimmering brown banisters looked gold in the sunlight pouring from the glass dome above.
"This is First Class." Sam pointed out, "Are we allowed here?"
The Doctor smirked and held up his badge, "We will be."
Dean and Sam exchanged looks.
There was a man, a guard of some sort, stood at the foot of the stairs. He regarded them with a suspicious look - the 'stink-eye' Dean called it - and stepped towards them, making it clear that he was not threatened by their numbers and was ready to kick them out if need be. However, before the guard could utter a word, the Doctor held up his badge and pressed it into his face. The man leaned back, adjusted his glasses, and peered closer at the badge. Alarm passed over his face and he quickly bowed his head, "My apologises, your Majesties. Excuse my ignorance. It will not happen again."
Dean tried not to gawk. He really did.
When they were out of ear-shot, Dean asked the Doctor, "Doc, what is that thing?"
"Psychic paper." He replied with a proud smile, "It says whatever I want them to think."
The hours were wound away with them asking passenger after passenger, men, women, and even some children, but they found nothing about Jack or anyone else strange on board the ship. Finding their way around the Titanic was also more difficult than each of them expected. The whole ship was a winding fortress of rooms and people and more rooms.
"You know it took two weeks for most people to find their way." The Doctor said to lighten the mood when the group got lost a fourth time.
They stopped for a rest at the A La Carte Restaurant, on Dean's request. His stomach had begun to gurgle, and the restaurant was the closest food source they could see. The room was lit by picture windows, giving it an intimate romantic atmosphere compared to what they'd seen everywhere else. In fact, half of the tables in the restaurant catered for two people, whereas very few tables like this were offered in the main dining saloon. Axminster carpets covered the floors and small tables, which had seats for two to eight people, which suited the group nicely as they took their seats on a table for six. On each table there was a crystal lamp.
The Doctor slumped in his seat, pressing his lips together thinly. He sighed impatiently.
"We should give it time." Sam said, reasonably.
The Doctor jumped up suddenly like the very idea of sitting down and waiting burnt him, and he began to prance about the restaurant, talking to whoever he could - not necessarily to ask about strange passengers or sightings, but normal things the passengers would discuss. This varied from racing results to the magnificence of the Titanic. Sam watched him over the top of his menu when he noticed a man in the corner. Sam couldn't read his facial expression because he was hiding behind the glare of the light, but he knew he was staring at them. Sam looked down at his menu in embarrassment. He'd forgotten how other-worldly he and the others must look.
The Doctor had also noticed the man's staring, but he was much closer was was able to see beyond the flare of the crystal lamp and read the man's expression. The man was looking at the group like he'd seen them before - or in the very least seen someone like them. Well, the Doctor thought, it's worth a shot. He approached the man, who looked up startled, and showed him the psychic paper. "Hello, I'm the Doctor, blah-blah-blah...Have you seen anybody strange on board? Please!"
The man started again. He glanced at Sam, Dean, Castiel, John and Sherlock again before nodding.
"Other than them."
"Well..." he hesitated. He had a Scottish accent, and the Doctor felt his mood lift, "I did see this odd-looking boy."
The Doctor's two hearts surged at that. He only just resisted punching the air. Finally! he thought with relief and excitement. Quickly, he asked, "Was he here?"
The man shook his head, "I saw him pass the window last time I was here. About three days ago...um, Sunday. It was Sunday, I'm sure."
"Do you know where he went?"
"No." the man said, shaking his head, "But he was coming from the Poop Deck. Maybe you could ask there, if you're really that desperate."
The Doctor nearly bounced. He rushed back to the others, weaving past waiters and First Class passengers who stuck up their noses at him. "Guys, I've found something." he said with an excited grin when he reached the others, "Mysterious boy, strange clothes - I think we've found that sore thumb. Let's go!"
John asked, "Where are we going?"
"The Poop Deck."
Dean chuckled. Sam rolled his eyes.
The Poop Deck actually had nothing to do with lavatories, despite how it sounded. It was a deck at the stern of the ship that acts as a roof over the third-class cabins built in the rear of the ship, so in all technicality it was the stern deck. The third-class passengers, who hadn't any facilities built for them, liked to meet on the Poop deck to relax and play deck games when the weather was nice, like it was on that particular day.
Dean spotted a group of very attractive women stood by the railing. Compared to the clothing of the first class women, these women wore simpler clothing, but looked relatively stylish with what they could afford. Unable to resist, he put on his best smile, and approached them.
"Hey, there, ladies."
Dean could have smacked himself.
The four women each turned a confused smile. One of them, who had dark hair pinned up in a tight bun, asked, awkwardly, like he'd spoken a different language. "Excuse me?"
"Um…"
"Don't mind him!" The Doctor quickly intervened, showing the psychic paper to the women, who looked pleasantly surprised by whatever they saw there. "We're just…um, investigating." He tapped Dean on the nose with the psychic paper, "Yes, that's right. Investigating! Lovely weather isn't it? – Now, have you heard about the mysterious little boy in strange clothes running around? He's with us, you see. We don't want him getting into trouble." The Doctor chuckled and, behind him, Sam cleared his throat.
"He's asking if you've seen anything strange." He translated.
The group of women looked thoughtful. One of them, who wore a long-sleeved brown frock, fitted tightly around her waist, and had red hair pinned back, said, "We did see the little boy, if that's what you mean. He went with the tall, handsome man."
Sam asked, "What did he look like? The tall man, I mean."
"He had dark hair, blue eyes, and a long blue coat."
"No." one of the other women burst out, "It was grey!"
"It was blue, Ethel."
Ethel wrinkled her nose.
"What does it matter?" Dean muttered, under his breath, "About million people here fit that description."
Sam stood on his foot, and he yelped.
"Where did they go?" the Doctor asked the women to distract them from Dean, "Did you see?"
The dark haired woman replied, "I think they went to the Officer's Quarters."
"Are you sure?"
The woman nodded, "I heard them talking." She said, guiltily, "The man said that the First Mate could take the boy home. It did not make a lick of sense."
"Thank you."
The Doctor lead them, weaving through the crowds, and showing the psychic paper to anyone who gave them an odd look. At last they came to the area outside the Officer's Quarters. A group of officers, who were currently on their break, where stood together, talking loudly. The Doctor approached them alone, the other's hanging back with a subconscious dislike of obedience. "Excuse me." He said, and the officers turned to look at him, and like everyone else, they looked over his strange clothes. The Doctor held up the badge and said, "I'm looking for the First Mate?"
"That's me." one of them said, "Mr Freely, at your service." The First Mate, Mr Freely, was a skinny man with pale blue eyes and light brown stubble along his jawline. Sandy-brown hair stuck out in tuffs from under his cap. The Doctor quickly explained that he'd rather talk in private and lead Mr Freely down the walkway to where the others were waiting. Then the strangest thing happened.
Dean, Sam, and Castiel froze in shock. So did Mr Freely.
Mr Freely shook his head incredulously. "You have got to be bloody joking!" he hissed. "Really, boys, how desperate are you to come all the way out here to get me, with your extra band of Musketeers? Actually, don't answer that."
Dean stared in shock. He hadn't seen him in two years – he'd helped him and Sam, and then disappeared off the face of the Earth – and he hadn't expected to see him ever again. He was so surprised all he could say was, "Balthazar."
"Yes. Well done." The First Mate – Balthazar, apparently – mocked, "Now, keep it down. I'm undercover."
John looked between the Winchesters, Castiel and Balthazar with disbelief. "You know him?" he said, "How?"
"He's an angel." Castiel murmured. He looked deathly pale. Before this point, he hadn't fully understood the distress it had caused to be surrounded by the dead, but with the presence of his fallen brother - no, his murdered brother - he appreciated the enormity of it. He felt his stomach churn, and a piecing in his chest like he'd been stabbed. The feeling only intensified when Balthazar looked at him, completely unaware of what the future would bring, for this was a past version of Balthazar.
Balthazar frowned at Castiel "You're not the Castiel of now…" Balthazar paused, raised his eyebrows, and began again, "You're not the Castiel that sent me here."
Sam said, "We're from 2013."
Balthazar laughed, a harsh sharp sound, "You mean the world's still standing in 2013? Bravo, boys, you're doing okay." then he absently added, "I wonder how you'll be in three years' time."
Dean blinked, "Wait, what?" he said but his question was drowned out by the Doctor saying, "Why were you sent here?" at the same time.
"Is this an interrogation?"
Sam quickly explained, "He un-sunk the Titanic."
John narrowed his eyes in confusion, "What do you mean he un-sunk the Titanic?"
The Doctor quickly said, "We should take this conversation somewhere else."
They went to the bridge. The room was bright from the sunlight bleeding through several large windows. There was a bronze wheel in the centre, just in front of the windows, and on either side of it were two other men, the helmsmen, who usually stand watch with the First Mate. They turned sharply and stood straight when they entered, but confusion shone in their eyes at the unauthorised guests. Balthazar said to them, "You boys are excused for the moment. I'll handle the rest of the watch."
They hesitated, looking at one another nervously.
Balthazar rolled his eyes. He stepped forward and placed one hand on each of the two men shoulders. "Boys, boys, boys…" he said with a sigh, "I said you could leave."
The men's faces became a blank. Mesmerised, the two helmsmen gave a salute and marched off the bridge like wooden puppets. Dean watched them leave with wide eyes. He said, "Did you just Obi-Wan Kenobi them?"
Balthazar just smirked, taking a sip of his drink through a straw which had suddenly appeared in his hand. He said, "So, future-boys, what ever can I do for you?"
"We're looking for a kid." Sam said, "Apparently he came here with a this one other dude?"
"Oh yeah." Balthazar murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "Right pain in the backside that Jack was."
The Doctor head snapped up. "Did you say Jack?"
"Hmmm?" Balthazar said, blinking. He'd completely ignored everyone in favour of his own thoughts, "Yeah, yeah. Captain Jack Harkness. Said he was a specialist. What does it matter? You're looking for the kid. He's right here."
When Balthazar waved his hand, a boy suddenly appeared in the room with them. He was wearing scrappy jeans and a dirty red hoodie. His T-Shirt was pale yellow and had Spongebob Squarepants on the front. He looked about ten, maybe younger, and his face was a light brown and he had dark blonde locks. There was something strikingly familiar about him, like they'd seen his face before: green eyes, rounded face...
It was Sam who made the connection, "Are you...March Denton?" the boy didn't reply but the way he tensed up was enough to confirm it. He was one of the missing persons from the report - he'd lived on Fields Park Avenue before he'd disappeared into Wester Drumlins.
"Sent here by the Weeping Angels." Balthazar confirmed, "Here I was, minding my own business with my good self for amazing company, when I'm approached by Mr Sex himself with this kid in tow. He wanted me to send them back to the 21st century. Of course I accepted out of the goodness of my heart."
"Bullshit." said Dean.
Balthazar pretended to be offended for a moment, but then shrugged, "You're right." he admitted, "But I did accept. He just had to...sweeten the deal."
"Acting like a demon." Dean shook his head, although he wasn't really surprised. When he first met Balthazar, he was making deals so he could steal people's souls and before that he'd stolen weapons from Heaven's vaults - Castiel had said he'd once been a great warrior, but Dean couldn't see it. "You haven't changed."
Balthazar just raised his eyebrows at him. "If I pretend your opinion matters, will you stop whining like the hairless ape you are?"
Dean scowled, but didn't speak.
The Doctor asked, "What happened to Jack?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." Balthazar muttered. He wandered round to where March was and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, but March flinched away. Balthazar ignored this. "First of all, you're not getting anything else out of me unless we play this my way."
Castiel winced and shook his head. "Balthazar..."
"Don't do you're puppy-eyed threatening side-stare on me, Cas! We're not Fledglings any more." Balthazar snapped, but there was a hint of affection behind it also. He turned back to the others, and gave a crooked smile, "An answer for an answer. You ask a question, I answer. I ask a question, you answer."
"Sounds fair." John said before anyone else could speak. He adjusted how he was stood and hardened his face into the emotionless shield he wore to battle. "What do you want to know?"
Balthazar smirked at John, "This one knows how to play. But my first question is for my brother." he turned sharply back round to Castiel, his face enraged, "What. The. Hell?"
Castiel seemed to know what he was talking about. "Balthazar please..."
"No, seriously - you're with the Doctor?" Balthazar hissed. He turned and glared at the Doctor. The Doctor quickly hid his surprise, but Balthazar spotted it, "Yes, I recognise you. You look different but your soul never changes – not to mention two hearts gives it away." he spun back to Castiel, "I don't care if you're searching for the Queen of Sheba, you don't go to the one man you swore to stay away from for help!"
"It was an accident."
"What going on?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam's disapproving glare, hoping to get some insight into the Doctor's and Castiel's relationship.
Balthazar turned from Castiel for a moment. He glanced at Dean and then moved round towards the Doctor, "You may not know it but you're in the presence of one of Heaven's Most Wanted." he said, stopping in between Castiel and the Doctor, and glaring at the alien, "He's a Time Lord - a parasite! If that's not bad enough, he also happens to be Cas's best childhood buddy until..."
"Do not repeat the events of that day, Balthazar!" Castiel bellowed, stepping threatening towards Balthazar, and Balthazar turned, out of instinct, to face him, "If you think you can steer me away by reminding me of the past, you're wrong! What happened is between the Doctor and I." then, much softer, he added, "I know you're trying to protect me, but I can look after myself."
The air crackled with energy. Everyone fell silence, cautious. In the corner, March looked positively petrified. Dean went to comfort him, his steps explosive in the silence of the room.
"I think it's our turn for a question, don't you think?" John said, a while into the silence. He realised he was the only one who could add to the conversation: he didn't understand the sudden tension in the room, but he knew it was there and he had to get rid of it. Sherlock certainly wasn't going to. He was too busy basking in it. "What did you want from Jack?"
Balthazar and Castiel held each others gaze for a moment longer, before Balthazar looked away - not in a way that showed defeat, but in a way that showed an understanding of his brother's nature: Castiel could be quite stubborn when he had too.
"A Core Chamber." Balthazar said at last, "The only one of it's kind. It makes one hell of a weapon when you know how to use it. A guy like me could use a thing like that. So I told Jack if he fetched it for me, I'd send him and the kid home. Of course, I kept the kid for leverage."
"So you don't know where he is?"
Balthazar gave a mischievous smile, "Ah, my turn." he pointed out and John pressed his lips tighter together, "Thing is, I sent him away three days ago, and I haven't heard from him since. So how about I send you after him? You get me the Core Chamber. You get Jack and snot-nose over there. How's that sound?"
"Okay then," Sam said, "But, March comes with us."
Balthazar smiled, "Yeah, I don't think so." he said and with a flick of his wrist, March vanished with a startled gasp, right in front of Dean's eyes.
Dean blinked and spun round to Balthazar, "What the hell do you want with him?" he demanded, leaping to his feet - he quickly held himself back from attacking. Angels were not to be messed with, especially ones like Balthazar.
"Same thing I told Jack: Leverage." Balthazar replied, "He gives you a reason to do as you're told. So, do we have a deal?"
John said, "Tell us where you're sending us first."
"Kembel."
The Doctor went still. He stared at Balthazar with extremely wide eyes, filled with horror and disgust and disbelief. He murmured, "Say that again."
"Kem..." Balthazar drawled, "...bel."
The Doctor's wide eyes went sharp, "That's the most hostile planet in the universe!" he cried, pushing into the angel's personal space. The others looked at him in surprise. "You send anyone there, they're dead!"
Balthazar held his gaze. "…And?" He took a long slurp from his drink, the sound of the air in the straw filling the room. "You know, you lot have all got one thing in common. You think you're amazing little heroes. So, heroes, go save him."
Sherlock said, "What happens if we die?"
Dean rolled his eyes, "Gee, thanks Sherlock."
"Just being logical." Sherlock said, not looking away from Balthazar, "If we're getting sent to 'the most hostile planet in the universe' then we're likely to die. If we die, then there's no way we can complete your deal."
"Try not to die then."
"We'll be back." Dean said meeting Balthazar with a fierce gaze. "Call you on Angel Radio."
Balthazar pulled a face at him and, throwing Castiel a cautious look - one last exchange between brothers - he flicked his wrist and sent the six of them hurling through time and space.
Thanks for reading everyone. Stay tuned for the next instalment.