"MARTHAAAAAAAAAA!"

Sam glanced up from the monitor on the Tardis console. The Doctor, puffing from his lengthy yell, was running long fingers through his hair, obviously frustrated, glaring at a set of controls in front of him. "Where the bloody hell's Martha got to?"

"Uh, she and Dean…"

"Dean? What's she off with Dean for?"

Sam half-smiled and shook his head. "Dean asked you for a tour of the Tardis. You said something about needing to 'monitor a temporal timey-wimey fluctuation' and told Martha to show him around. Last I saw they went up those stairs…" he nodded to the fire-escape staircase leading up one wall of the spaceship.

The Doctor had been muttering curses to himself, only half-listening. Now he looked up, squinting at the rumbling Tardis engine. "Ah, yes, well, isn't that just wonderful. The minute I need her, she goes galavanting across all the relative dimensions with some suspicious American." The Time Lord scrubbed the back of his neck and looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

Ignoring the jibe, Sam sighed. "You need me to go get Martha, then?"

The Doctor's face burst into a brilliant smile. "Oh, would you? It's this set of stabilizers, you see. They keep wanting to, well, stabilize. Can't have that. And Martha always seems to know the exact way to knock them about to get them to…loosen."

Instead of trying to figure out why a loose stabilizer was a good thing, Sam shut down the monitor (which had been giving him a rundown of planets in the area—planets that he had only ever dreamed existed). "I'll go then. Up those stairs?"

The Doctor had buried his head into the Tardis console again. "Yeah, up those stairs, walk about 20 meters, then take three rights, a left, and two more rights, a spiral staircase up, the fireman's pole down and it'll beeeeee…" a drawn-out, thinking vowel, "…four doors on your diagonal."

Sam blinked. "O-okay. Sure." He started up the stairs.

"If you get lost, just shout." The Doctor flashed him a grin, then went back to work.

It felt like hours, but it could have been minutes. Who could know in a time machine? Sam found himself looking in on the strangest room he had yet encountered in the Tardis (and he was sure it wouldn't be the last). It was a sort of spiraling room, with at least 20 ladders scaling the walls, leading to several circular platforms.

And on all of these platforms were just one thing.

Clothes.

Hundreds and hundreds of clothes.

"DEAN!"

Sam had expected his voice to echo up through the tall room, but it seemed to get lost somewhere. Probably in all of the fabric. "Dammit," he grumbled. He hated climbing ladders.

"Sam!"

Spinning, Sam encountered a very surprised Martha Jones, wearing what looked like a coon-skin cap and a black, tassled coat that came down to her knees.

"M-Martha…"

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. Did I scare you?" She was laughing and breathless, and in one hand she had a toy pistol. Her face sparkled with fun.

Sam found his airway suddenly closing up, so he coughed and tried to cover his embarrassment with a smile. "No, not really. Just…mostly scared by your fashion choices…"

Martha looked down at her clothes as if it was the first time she had seen them. Her large eyes were horrified for just a moment, but then a playful smile took over and she laughed. "Oh, this. Well, you know, I've been travelling with the Doctor for a while. But I'd never really been inside his closet before. I mean, honestly, how much fun would it be to mess around with all of this on your own?"

Sam snorted. "Dean would have a field day." His face brightened suddenly. "He's found the Wild West costumes, hasn't he?"

"How'd you know?"

"I know my brother." Sam craned his neck to look around. "So, this is the Doctor's closet, huh? Man, why would he need this many clothes?"

Martha shrugged. "He's over 900 years old—I'd guess you get together quite a collection in all that time. Mostly, though, he says it's for his guests. So we can blend in."

They both rolled their eyes. Even knowing the Doctor for a very short time was enough to tell anyone that he cared very little for "blending in."

"So, where is Dean, anyway?"

Martha looked around, furrowing her brow. "I'm…not sure…"

"YEEEEHAAAWWW!"

In a flurry of leather and jingling spurs, someone wearing a dusty stetson and a floor-length leather coat fell out of the level above them, rolled a few times and came up on one knee, pointing a toy gun at Sam with a very dangerous scowl on his face..

Sam and Martha had both taken several steps back. Sam was the first to speak. "Dean, what the hell?"

Dean snapped out of his intense glare, got off of his knees and twirled the silvery gun around his finger, a boyish smile spread across his face. His eyes were sparkling. "Dude, would you look at this stuff? It's like it came straight out of the Old West!"

"Well it did."

All three spun around to see the Doctor leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, grinning proudly.

Dean pushed the stetson back. "Seriously? You mean this stuff is legit?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Certainly. I've met quite a few of your "cowboys" in my travels. To be honest, apart from Mr. Colt, very few have been friendly…"

Sam froze. "Colt? As in Samuel Colt?"

Dean's eyes were practically glazed over. "Sammy—this. is. awesome."

The Doctor pushed off of the doorway and started to walk out into the hall. "Thanks for going to fetch Martha, Sam. Turns out the stabilizers loosened themselves very nicely after I shouted at them for a bit. Carry on!"

Dean whirled. "Alright, Marty, how 'bout another round?" He twirled his toy gun a few times (the Doctor had not allowed Dean to carry around his own real guns, so Dean was obviously in love with the feeling of one back in his hands, however fake it might be).

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Marty?" He looked down at Martha questioningly.

She smiled back at him, fiddling with the tail of the coonskin cap on her head. "I think I know just the costume that you'll fit into, Sam. Stay here…I'll be right back." She climbed a ladder nearby and disappeared into the miles of clothing racks above. Sam watched her, his throat muscles working and his face trying not to break into a broad grin.

Dean came up beside Sam and shoved him roughly in the arm. "Dude, that girl is alright. You don't make a move soon, I might."

FIN