Notes: I absolutely love playing with Amy and Dean. The parallels between them are ... surprisingly fun ;)

It had taken a long time before Dean even started to consider the idea that Sam hadn't been the one behind his resurrection. He still wasn't entirely sure that Sam wasn't lying to him, but on the other hand, he had run into the Doctor and River since coming back to life, so the idea that it was something new, something he and Sam hadn't dealt with yet, wasn't that far-fetched.

It would be nice if it was something space-related. Hell had been, well, hell to deal with. Surely space would be better.

And that was what finally broke him out of reuniting with his brother—and trying to drink in every second of his brother standing there, alive, not in Hell. He needed to talk to the Doctor. River might have been tight-lipped about what was going on, but the Doctor could be convinced, he was sure.

Maybe.

Well, it was worth a try.

He noticed that Sam wasn't glaring as hard at the TARDIS anymore, too, and figured that was one good thing about coming back to life. Maybe Sam would get over the fact that the Doctor hadn't helped him skirt around his death pact if the guy had always known that he was coming back. The Doctor talked about maintaining Time and history and all that; maybe he was just waiting for the boys to catch up to this part.

"Hey, Doc!" Dean called out, knocking on the outside of the TARDIS.

The door opened, and Amy grinned at both of them. She was still wearing a nightgown, for some reason. "Hey, boys."

"Nice look," Dean said as the two of them slipped past her into the TARDIS. Dean kind of liked the other TARDIS look better, but then again, he figured he would always be partial to the one he'd traveled in when he was a kid. But the view was definitely helped by a hot redhead in a nightgown.

"Down boy," Amy said without missing a beat.

Dean grinned. He didn't know how the Doctor managed to find the best people to travel with, but they were always fun to play with. "The Doc in?"

"He's checking something on his time travel doohickey." Amy waved her hand. "I tried to get him to slow down and explain it to me in small, plain English—"

"—but he doesn't do that, yeah. I know."

Amy grinned, leaning against the railing. "Oh, yes. You can stay."

"Hate to tell you this, Amy, but I've been doing this longer than you have."

"Bet I have you beat."

"Since I was eight," Dean said, grinning triumphantly.

"Seven," Amy shot back.

Dean's eyebrows shot right up, but then he almost laughed when he saw that Amy looked just as triumphant about winning their argument as he had felt only seconds ago. "Okay, well played," Dean said, joining her as she leaned on the railing. "So, how'd you meet him?"

"He showed up at my house, ate half my pantry, and promised he'd be back in five minutes." She blew out a frustrated breath. "Fast forward twelve years…"

"Wait, seriously?" Dean shook his head. "I thought the fact that we only saw him every few years growing up was one thing…"

"Oh, I made sure he knew exactly how I felt about it," Amy promised.

"Good," Sam put in. He had been hanging back slightly from the conversation—Dean didn't think he was entirely comfortable with the Doctor or anything associated with him yet, even if Dean wasn't dead anymore—but he clearly couldn't keep his mouth shut on this part. "He needs someone around to tell him when he's being an idiot."

"Nice to see you too, Sam," the Doctor said.

"If I'm wrong, I'll say so."

"Oh, I like him too," Amy said, pushing off of the railing to spin to face Sam. But when she saw that Sam looked genuinely mad at the Doctor instead of playfully teasing, her expression shifted, and she looked between Sam and the Doctor. "Okay, what happened?"

"It's fine," Sam started to say, but seeing as Amy didn't look like she was going to let it drop, Dean cut in.

"I died," Dean said. "And the Doctor wouldn't help Sam save me."

Amy narrowed her eyes as she looked between them. All three of them. Her gaze finally landed on the Doctor, and she pointed a finger his way. "That doesn't sound like you."

"He's not dead," the Doctor pointed out. "And that was a long time ago, for me. A lifetime ago."

"Not really helping your case," Amy said, sounding exasperated—but the kind of exasperation that came from trying to help someone and watching them dig themselves deeper into a hole.

Dean absolutely knew that feeling.

"Time travel," Sam said, shaking his head. "It's fine. He knew Dean was coming back, apparently."

"Still," Amy said, frowning.

"Yeah, still," Sam agreed.

Dean looked between the others in the TARDIS, frowned, and then shook his head. "Okay, that's it," he said, slipping over to run his hands over the console. It still felt the same as the one that had let him fly it, though he somehow doubted that the TARDIS would be willing to do that again now that he'd literally been through Hell and back. Still, there was something calming and comforting about the psychic touch he could feel when he reached out to the console. "What do you think, huh?" he asked the TARDIS. "Get away from this place for a little while and have a party?"

The TARDIS dinged happily in response.

"Oy," the Doctor said, pointing a finger Dean's way. "Don't steal my girl."

"Wouldn't dream of it. I've got my own ride," Dean said without missing a beat, though his crooked grin told everyone there that he was definitely at least thinking of taking the TARDIS for a joyride. When the Doctor gave him a dry look that clearly communicated how much he wasn't amused with Dean's antics, Dean laughed and held both hands up in a gesture of peace. "Hey, come on. I just came back from the dead. I think that warrants ice cream and a trip to the stars to see the world from above, right?" He grinned over at Amy. "That's where he took me and Sam when we first met."

Amy spun to face the Doctor, her long, red hair flying out behind her. "Hey. How come you took them to space but I had to wait for you for years?"

"The TARDIS wasn't on fire when I met them," the Doctor said, but that just had Dean bursting out laughing.

"Wait, why did you set the TARDIS on fire?"

"It wasn't on purpose," the Doctor said, sounding indignant, but Dean was already laughing too hard to care.

After forty years in Hell, he needed that laugh, too.