FIC: Of All Places (Doctor Who/SPN Xover)

[dk323]

Title: Of All Places (1/1)
By: dk323 (posted on FFN under silvermoon8705, though this one is revised and better for it :-))
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Dean/Martha, Ten/Martha
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and Russell T. Davies. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW. Only playing around with the characters here...
Spoilers: Doctor Who - after Blink before Utopia; Supernatural - Season 1 before Shadow
Summary: Dean Winchester meets Martha Jones and her friend, the Doctor.
Author's notes: I wrote this fic a while ago before I really got a hang of the characters, but hopefully it still does the job. Comments are love and keep me writing (Along with the plot!bunnies of doom...).

Dean looked up from where he was sitting at the diner. Sam was at the local library doing some research on their latest hunt. Dean had decided to scope out the town – ask around. It was far more interesting than looking through books and microfiche, so he just left his geek brother to it.

 

The bell had rung as a woman about Sam’s age walked in looking frustrated to say the least. As she went past where Dean was sitting, he tried to get her attention. Because when would he ever pass up the chance to flirt especially with someone as hot as her?

 

“Hey, need some company?” Dean asked, testing the waters.

 

The woman looked at him, a bit surprised that he was talking to her, but then she smiled and said, “Thanks for the offer.” She sat down across from Dean.

 

She definitely had a British accent, Dean thought. He wondered what brought her all the way across the pond. Rockford, Illinois was the last place he would have expected someone like her to be at – in a mom-and-pop diner in the Midwest.

 

“I’m Martha.” She said.

 

“Dean. What brings you here? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

 

She waved her hand, “Oh, car trouble. My friend and I – we’re from the U.K.-- we’re here on vacation. The bloody rental is being awful though. My friend is trying to fix it now while I get some food. How about you? Do you live in the area?”

 

“I’m here with my brother – he’s at the library now. We’re just passing through. Originally from Kansas, I guess you would say.”

 

“I’ve never been to Kansas. I’ve always wanted to go to New York – well the present day New York. See Times Square – bet it’s brilliant at New Year’s Eve, right?”

 

Dean looked at her strangely, “What d’you mean – present day New York?”

 

Martha covered her mouth with her hand, realizing that she had said too much, “Oh, you know – I visited New York once when I was very little – barely remember it. It would be nice to see it now and actually remember what I did.”

 

He nodded, “I’ve been to Times Square once or twice. Never at New Year’s Eve, but I’ve heard it was amazing.”

 

She started playing with a delicate gold chain around her neck, which disappeared beneath her beige shirt. Once in a while, she would look back at the entrance to the diner as if expecting someone to come through the door.

 

Dean put his hand over hers – the one that was doing the tapping – and gave her his best engaging smile.

 

“How’s your boyfriend?” Dean ventured. Sometimes the roundabout way was more fun in asking a girl whether or not she was available.

 

Martha jumped a bit in shock at the inquiry.

 

But then she smiled at him – leaning toward flirtatious if he wasn’t mistaken, “I’m single. My love life is lacking, sadly. Although, I have to warn you – my friend – the one who’s with me – he has this thing…” She drifted off.

 

“What thing?” He leaned closer to her so that their noses were almost touching.

 

She seemed to change her mind on what she was going to say, and said instead, “Forget it. He’s sort of like an overprotective brother, you know? It’s nothing.”

 

“If you say so.” Dean breathed out.

 

She grinned mischievously at him, and drew her lips to his, kissing him. He kissed back just as eagerly as she did.

 

“This is moving along kinda fast, don’t you think?” Dean asked after they pulled back for breath.

 

“Is that a problem?” She said, tugging at his arm as she stood up.

 

“No, but – where are we going?” Dean stood as well, letting her keep holding onto his hand.

 

“We could go around back and – uh, what’s the term here – make out…have some fun. I can tell you’re that type of guy.”

 

Dean raised his eyebrow at her, “What kind of guy is that?”

 

“A fun one – the type to go with the flow. And I could use some fun right now.”

 

“Can’t say I get that often, but what about your friend? I thought you were getting food…”

 

“That can wait. Come on. No time like the present.” She grinned at him, stealing another kiss. The others at the diner were beginning to mutter something about “young people these days – can’t keep their hands off each other.”

 

Dean and Martha went out the door and headed to the deserted passage between the diner and the next shop. Martha looked out of the passage to check for something – or someone, Dean revised. Something told him that this friend of hers was not just a friend.

 

She directed his attention back to him, and pushed him against the wall. Dean found he didn’t mind at all that she was the one in control. It was kinda kinky, he thought.

 

Her hands latched onto his neck, and she started kissing him as if there was no tomorrow. Dean put his hands on her waist, and gave as much as he was getting. He was a bit surprised that she seemed like she was trying to devour him with her mouth.

 

And she said her love life was lacking?! If she could kiss like that…what guy could resist?

 

“Martha Jones…” He heard someone say in an annoyed tone of voice.  

 

They both turned to find a man staring incredulously at the both of them. He was tall, skinny, had brown hair sticking up in a crazed manner as well as dark eyes. He wore a long brown coat with a pinstriped suit underneath - Converse sneakers finishing off the whole eccentric ensemble.

 

Martha’s friend had apparently found her and Dean was hoping he could escape this awkward situation unscathed.

 

Martha didn’t look too happy to be interrupted, and pulling away from Dean, she looked crossly at her friend.

 

“What else was I supposed to do? I was bored – and I didn’t want to be here in the first place! It’s your own fault we’re here anyway. I wasn’t going to sit around while you fiddled around with the TARDIS. I’ve had enough of it in 1969 – you tinkering with all the appliances – and me having to clean up. As if being your maid wasn’t enough. And another thing--”

 

“Martha--” He started.

 

“No, let me finish. And another thing, I’m almost certain the TARDIS sent us here for no good reason other than to--” She waved her hands around as if that would explain what she was after.

 

Her friend sighed, “The TARDIS was a little sick – she missed us, the poor girl. She just needs some rest. That’s why she sent us back only a year ago – from your time at least.”

 

“Why the American Midwest of all places?” She commented with barely veiled annoyance.

 

Dean was growing more confused by the second – this was weird even for him – what was the TARDIS and why were they talking about being in 1969? Werewolves and spirits were one thing, but time travel? Seriously?

 

The other man shrugged, “Does there need to be a reason? At least we didn’t make a wrong landing at Death Valley…”

 

“Right then. Is the TARDIS ready?”

 

He grinned, “Just about.”

 

He offered his hand to her, wagging his fingers. She smiled up at him and took it.

 

“Wait – so rude of me. This is Dean.” Martha looked back at Dean who nodded his head.

 

The other man gave him a blank look; although Dean could tell he was less than thrilled to see him still there.

 

“I’m the Doctor.” He said then, briskly.

 

“Just the Doctor?”

 

“Yes. Does that bother you?” Dean swore that if looks could kill, then he’d be ashes right now.

 

“No, not at all,” He said quickly.

 

Martha glared at the Doctor’s behavior, “Be polite, would you? He’s done nothing wrong.”

 

“That, Martha, is up to debate.”

 

“So you two are a couple, right?” Dean cut in. There was no way that these two could simply be friends the way they were acting around each other.

 

“Yes, we’re married.” The Doctor said.

 

Martha rounded on him, a look of shock on her features, “What?!”

 

“Don’t you remember? 1969? All those good times? The Beatles?” He pulled out the gold chain that Dean saw her fiddling with earlier.

 

Hanging from it was a gold wedding band.

 

“It doesn't mean anything. Really.” Martha explained to Dean.

 

“Right, okay. Who are you two anyway? You were talking about time travel - and Martha - that slip up about New York...”

 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

 

"Try me."

 

"What makes you so sure --?"

 

"I've seen things most people have only dreamed about. Ghosts, shapeshifters, poltergeists, evil scarecrows..."

 

Martha perked up at the last one, "I've seen some nasty scarecrows - we should compare notes."

 

"Oh! There it is!" The Doctor exclaimed, pulling out a small bag of Jelly Babies and began eating them.

 

"Doctor?" Martha tried to get his attention off of the Jelly Babies.

 

"Oh, right. I think I've met his sort before - in a previous regeneration though not sure which one. He's a hunter of the supernatural. Lives on the fringes of society taking out things that go bump in the night. Not particularly glamorous, mind you." The Doctor explained, tugging on his ear.

 

Dean looked back and forth between the two. If they were really time travelers, then what time was their present? Judging by Martha’s appearance and from what he heard earlier, she had to be from his time - early 21st century at the least. The Doctor – that was more difficult to figure out.

 

Martha’s eyes lit up, “So you really see ghosts – they’re not invisible?”

 

The Doctor cut in before Dean could say a word, “Of course they’re not invisible; you humans just refuse to see them. Anything you can’t deal with – that you’re afraid of – it becomes invisible to you as a coping mechanism. Now there are some humans who are born with a little extra something – like Tim Latimer with his low-level telepathy, remember? So like that, some humans can be born with the ability to see past the ghost stories and see the real thing. Now some may argue it is a learned process, but you can’t deny the immense power and potential of genetics. You just wait until the 25th century--”

 

“I think I got it, Doctor,” Martha interrupted, giving him a small smile at his usual enthusiasm for all things.

 

The Doctor grinned, and looked at Dean with a bemused expression, “How are things in your world?"

 

"The usual. Nothing apocalyptic yet. So are you an alien or something?"

 

"What makes you think that?" The Doctor asked, seeming to be honestly interested in the answer.

 

“You talk about the future and you seem to own something I've never heard of - a TARDIS? And what you’re wearing--”

 

“Why, what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?"

 

Dean just looked at him, waiting for an answer.

 

“I’m a time traveler. That is all you need to know.”

 

“Doctor, can we take him with us – just for one trip?”

 

Dean was somewhat surprised that Martha wanted him to join them, but he knew it was an irresponsible thing to do.

 

“My brother – I have to look after him. I can’t just leave him.”

 

“Quite right. Best be going--” The Doctor nodded in approval.

 

“We have enough room. You could ask him to come with as well.” Martha continued to press the point, though she could sense the Doctor’s restlessness beside her.

 

Dean looked at each of them in turn, “No, I really can’t. Sorry, Martha. I don’t want to rain on his parade.” He winked at her.

 

Abruptly, Martha stepped on the Doctor’s foot, “Would you quit doing that?”

 

“Ow! What did I do?” He looked at her, mildly affronted.

 

“Pretending that we’re still pretending to be married. Look around, does it look like we’re still in 1969?”

 

“I don’t – well, now I sort of do actually, but that’s not really--” The Doctor stumbled over his words, and resorted to giving his companion a conciliatory look.

 

“I got the impression that you didn’t like me, Doctor. That’s fine – not the first time it’s happened to me. And I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last.” He gave Martha his most charming smile, causing her to roll her eyes.

 

“Men. Aliens. All the same.” She thought to herself.  

 

“Anyway, my last name is Jones. Martha Jones. If you ever cross the pond, look me up, will you?” She said, giving him a quick hug.

 

“You can count on it. I go by Winchester - Dean Winchester. If you’re ever hitchhiking in the states, here’s my cell number. Or just look for a black ’67 Chevy Impala. My brother and I – we never stay in the same place too long.” He explained, as he wrote down his number on a scrap piece of paper and handed it to Martha. She did likewise.

 

“Ah, best way to travel, isn’t it?” The Doctor said rather matter-of-factly. Finally some humans who weren’t being so domestic…

 

“I bet you two have seen far more interesting places than us. But thanks for trying,” Dean smirked.

 

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Martha said as she kissed him on the cheek.

 

The Doctor’s gaze darkened just a bit, but he nodded at Dean in farewell before turning to Martha, “Right then! Off to the TARDIS! What do you say, Miss Jones?”

“I'm all for it, Mr. Smith.” She grinned, slipping her arm through his.

“See you around, Dean!” Martha called back to him, turning her head briefly in his direction.

 

As Dean watched them turn the corner at the end of the block, Dean wondered if he’d ever see them again – see her again.

 

“Hey, Dean!” Sam called out as he approached him.

 

Dean shook himself out of his thoughts and looked up at his kid brother, who with a few strides came to a halt in front of him.

 

“Yeah, what have you found out?”

 

“It wasn’t random, it does fit a pattern.”

 

“What’s the pattern?”

 

Sam was about to reply, but then he realized where they were, “Dean, why did you leave the diner?”

 

“Does it matter?” Dean said dismissively.

 

“Do I even want to know?”

 

Dean scratched the back of his head, thinking over what he should tell him, “I think I just met an alien.”

 

Sam started laughing, but at the serious look on Dean’s face, he sobered up, “Seriously, man? C’mon. They don’t exist.”

 

“He had this girl with him. Can’t deny he has taste.”

 

“So this is about a girl. Should I be shocked or something?”

 

“Shut up, Sam. Okay, whatever. I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s just hit the road.”

 

“Hey, you’re the one going all X-Files on me.”

 

“Bitch.”

 

“Jerk.”

 

Just as Sam gave him a friendly shove to the shoulder, Dean could swear he heard a strange whirring sound nearby.

 

Out of sight.