Crossover: Supernatural & Doctor Who - Alien Hunters

A/N: Written for AO3 Crossworks challenge. This is an AU where Supernatural takes place in the universe of Doctor Who, and the Winchesters hunt aliens.

November 1995, Montana hotel room

Sam woke to the sound of his brother yelling. He threw back the covers and crossed the three feet to Dean's bed in the small hotel room, shaking him awake. "Hey, you're dreaming," Sam said. He was twelve years old and his voice cracked, but he didn't think Dean would give him a bad time about it tonight.

Dean sat up, taking a ragged breath. He glanced around the room, and seeing that John wasn't there, he didn't bother to whisper when he said, "Thanks, Sammy."

"Same nightmare?"

"Yeah. The night Mom died." Dean flipped a switch on the lamp between their beds, giving them a small pool of light. The alarm clock on the table said it was 4:51.

Sam sat next to Dean and pulled up the blanket over his bare legs. It was November in Montana, and the room's heater barely staved off the bitter cold. "Tell me about it," he said. He could usually convince Dean to talk about the nightmare if their dad wasn't around to tell them to shut up and go back to sleep.

Dean didn't even bother to protest this time, like maybe he'd realized that talking about it helped. "I heard Dad yelling that night, and it woke me up. I ran down the hallway, to the door of your bedroom." He grinned. "There was a mobile over your crib with animals and stuff on it. The giraffe, that's the one I remember." He pushed Sam over and tickled him. "Maybe that's why you're growing so tall."

Sam laughed but pushed Dean away. "And then what?"

"Dad shoved you into my arms and told me to run. I mean, yelled it. Pushed me down the hall and told me to go, and then he ran back into your room."

"Where Mom was," Sam said. Their Dad would never talk to them about it, but over the years the brothers had eavesdropped when John swapped stories with other hunters. Then knew John had tried to rescue Mary.

"Yeah, and somehow I made it down the stairs without dropping you, but the house was burning down around us. I got confused in the smoke, and it took me a while to make it outside. I got singed - well, we both did. Finally I stumbled across the street and collapsed next to some bushes."

Sam nodded. He'd heard this story enough times that he knew what to expect. Dean would mention the flashing lights of emergency vehicles surrounding their house as it was engulfed in flames, the people speaking in accents not normally heard in Kansas, and the... things... in black suits, telling them to forget.

Sometimes Sam wished it had worked - that John and Dean could have been convinced Mary Winchester died in a tragic house fire. But they'd remembered the truth, and John was obsessed. Oh, he hid it well enough from the casual observer, telling people their constant road trips were for fun, just family bonding over UFO sightings, laughing off the idea of actually encountering "little green men."

Sam and Dean knew better. Their father would never stop hunting aliens until he destroyed the yellow-eyed monster that had taken his wife.

Earth was attacked or invaded by aliens surprisingly often. And even more surprisingly, the majority of the population forgot about these incidents immediately afterward. They were Silenced - subjected to an alien power that caused their memories to be replaced with a belief that there'd simply been a natural disaster.

However, the Silence didn't work on everyone. Some of those who couldn't forget were driven by their trauma into hunting.

"And then I heard this whooshing noise," Dean said.

Sam's thoughts snapped back to their hotel room. "You never mentioned that before."

Dean shrugged. "They told me I couldn't tell anyone except you, and I had to wait until you were old enough."

"And you waited until I was twelve? You were four when it happened!"

"Yeah, and it was so weird that I repressed the memories and they only come back in my dreams." He shrugged. "But I'm remembering more and more when I wake up. Maybe that's a sign it's time to tell you."

"So tell me!" Sam insisted after a full minute of nothing.

"You have to promise not to repeat this to anyone, not even Dad."

"Promise."

Dean nodded. "I was flat on my back on a neighbor's lawn, struggling to breathe from the smoke inhalation, and hurting from being hit at least once by an energy weapon. You were next to me, coughing, sounding as bad as I felt. And like I said, there was the whooshing noise, and then these two women walked over to us, and they said they were doctors. One of them reached down to pick you up, and I tried to tell her not to take you away, but I could barely catch my breath. Then the other one picked me up." He paused. "She was really strong, and she smelled amazing. Like fresh air and pine."

They heard a vehicle pull into the hotel parking lot and they froze. Sam was poised to leap back into his own bed if it was their father, but it wasn't his car. "Keep going," Sam insisted.

"Then they carried us to this... this box," Dean shrugged. "It was blue, and about the size of a porta-potty, only made of wood."

"Like an outhouse?" Sam suggested.

"Yeah, but when they opened the door and stepped inside, it was definitely not an outhouse. It was way bigger than it should have been. Like, easily twice the size of this hotel room, with doors and corridors beyond."

Sam's eyes grew wide, because he knew what impossible tech meant. "They were aliens? We were abducted by aliens?!" His voice cracked again.

Dean flashed a grin at him, but then went deadly serious. "They saved us, Sammy. We'd be dead if not for them. And I know that goes against everything Dad says, about how all aliens are bad. You see why we can't tell him, right? If he knows aliens... did something to us... he'd never trust us. He might even abandon us someplace..."

"What did they do to us?" Sam asked.

"Healed us," was the instant answer. "Like, blink-of-your-eyes fast, we went from barely breathing and burned from energy weapons to not a bruise on us. I'm kind of surprised Dad didn't notice, but our clothes were still torn and smelled like smoke, and he was... he was distracted." Dean took a deep breath. "And then they argued about what to do with us. Whether they should take us with them because of... because of what they'd done to us. I think what changed their minds was when Dad couldn't be Silenced."

Sam took this in, and eventually asked, "What did they look like?"

"Human. Caucasian. Just..." Dean cleared his throat. "Well, the one who picked you up was in white, head to toe. White boots, white dress. I always think of her as the woman in white. And the other one..." He closed his eyes and smiled. "Skimpy leather outfit. I mean, I was too young to realize it at the time, but she was hot."

"That's why you're always looking at those magazines with women wearing leather," Sam guessed.

"Maybe. I've been seeing her more clearly in my dreams, and she was mega hot." He shoved at his brother. "End of story time. Back to your own bed."

Sam protested, but he didn't put up much of a fight. He had a lot to think about.

And he kept thinking about it, for the next several years. Good aliens. Aliens who healed. Doctors.

Hunters whispered stories about doctors with incredible powers, and now he paid more attention.

The more he thought about it, the more Sam decided that hunting wasn't for him. He wanted to heal people, particularly the ones injured in alien attacks. The world needed more doctors who understood how to treat those kinds of injuries. He decided to leave hunting and go to college, so he could get into med school.

And yeah, the whole going-to-college idea had not gone over well with John. But Sam insisted.

Spring 2006, Southern California beach

Dean sprawled lazily on a beach chair. The cooling breeze from the ocean competed with the heat of the southern California sun. On a table beside him was a bottle of sunscreen and a glass filled with a pink, fruity drink his dad would hate - and that was the point. During spring break he always went for a drink John would scoff at. It started as a dare from Sammy, and now it was an honored tradition.

During Sam's first year away at college, they'd kept in touch with text messages and the occasional phone call. It had been Dean's idea that they try to meet, to hang out the way many families did for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but at a different time of the year. Hunters called mid-November through early January alien central. There was something about the solstice and the bling of the holidays that acted like a beacon to various types of aliens. It was well known that hunters never got to celebrate a winter holiday.

So they picked spring break. Dean found an annual hunter's convention an easy drive from Sam's school, and he told his dad he wanted to go. He explained that he could make connections with more hunters, and he could remind Sammy of the need to return to the hunter's life once he was done with college. John grunted a reply that wasn't exactly a yes, and asked a brusque, "How's your brother?" when Dean returned, and he figured that was as much approval as he could expect.

This was Sammy's senior year. Their last spring break, Dean had thought, until Bobby called him an "idjit" and reminded him that Sam's dream was to be a doctor. That meant several more years of higher education. It was something he'd ask about once Sam got here. Dean had arrived early, spending a day at the convention so he wouldn't have to lie to his dad about doing some work on these trips. Most of the people there were sci-fi fans, people who giggled over the idea of aliens. But if you knew the password, you could get into the closed sessions only for hunters. Dean had learned about new tools and techniques for fighting aliens, heard a theory that Bigfoot and Yeti sightings were actually signs of reclusive aliens, and exchanged contact info with some hunters from Mexico.

And now he lounged on the beach with a frozen margarita while he waited for Sammy to drive down from Stanford.

"Drinking your breakfast?" asked an alto voice. Teasing or disdain?

Dean opened his eyes and slid off his sunglasses to get a better look. The woman had bright red hair and a mischievous smile, and he guessed her to be around Sam's age.

"It's not a criticism," she assured him in an accent that sounded... Scottish? Definitely not something he heard outside of TV shows or movies. "I love a good drink on the beach, but you really need a beach read." She held out a paperback novel and dropped it so it bounced off his belly onto the sand.

Dean's preferred reading was magazines like Busty Barbarian Beauties, and he wasn't particularly interested in a novel that featured a couple of muscle-bound, shirtless guys on the cover. Not that he wouldn't enjoy reading it, but he'd learned not to let his dad see him reading it.

He glanced toward his not-dad-approved drink. What the hell, it was spring break.

He picked up the book.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

The title was The Woman in White: Part One of the Winchester Legacy.

He sat up now, turning around on the lounge chair so his feet were on the ground.

"I'm Amy, by the way." She sat down beside him. "Amy Pond. I saw you at the convention yesterday."

He handed her the sunscreen, because she was by far the palest person on this beach, and he opened the book. The first chapter told the story of his mother's death, filling in details he'd forgotten, and providing information he'd never known.

His heart tore when he read about the yellow-eyed creature that killed Mary in front of John. "Perdition? That's what they're called?"

"That's what the author named them," Amy agreed. "We don't know for certain what they call themselves."

"We?" Dean repeated, because it was the simplest question he could pull out of a spinning mind that included: Who wrote this? Why? How did they know what happened? How did you know it was about my family?

"Keep reading," she said. "The next chapter has the Doctors in it. Then we'll talk." She picked up his drink and finished what was left. "Where did you get this? We're going to need more."

He gestured in the direction of a beachside shack, and she strode toward it. He didn't notice when she returned, because he was too absorbed in reading about the two women from his dream - their names were Romana and Leela - and how they healed the injuries he and Sammy had suffered on their way out of the house. He read about an organization called the Persons of Letters, who worked with the Silence to erase memories of alien encounters. They hadn't been able to erase John's and Dean's memories, so instead they provided just enough information for John to connect with the local hunter network.

When chapter two ended, he turned the page and saw:

Dean sprawled lazily on a beach chair. The cooling breeze from the ocean competed with the heat of the southern California sun. On a table beside him was a bottle of sunscreen and a glass filled with a pink, fruity drink his dad would hate - and that was the point. During spring break he always went for a drink John would scoff at. It started as a dare from Sammy, and now it was an honored tradition.

Amy slammed a hand down, obscuring the page. "You can't read the rest. It's your present and future, and once you read it, you can't change it." She took the book from him and gave him a strawberry margarita. "Drink up, hunter boy." She clinked his glass with her own.

He chugged half of his drink. "Start talking."

"The Doctors are..." She paused for a big breath. "They're time travelers. They have very long lives, and when their bodies wear out or get damaged they can regenerate into new forms. I've seen them do it and it freaked me out, because of course they didn't explain what was happening until it was over. The point is, you won't recognize them now, but they're the same two people who helped you and your brother. They travel in pairs. Something about balance. I think of them as the Chaos Doctor and the Order Doctor. Anyway, they're fond of us - humans, I mean, and Earth. They try to protect us from the alien invasions."

"They're aliens, too."

"Yes, exactly. So Polly - that's what we call the People of Letters - Polly decided that each of the Doctors should have a human companion to remind them of our perspective. So for now, that's me and Donna."

"For now?" Dean repeated.

"I'll get to that," she promised. "But first, you need to know about Chuck." And she explained about an author who had been publishing short stories about hunters. "It seemed harmless at first," she said. "It's not like hunters get paid, so if they want to publish their memoirs in the form of sensational stories and sneak in some lessons about fighting aliens, Polly didn't care. But then came the novel." She held up the paperback. "Tons of detail, and it claims to the be first in an ongoing series. And while it starts in the past, it continues into our future."

"Is Chuck an alien?"

"We're not sure. Polly asked us to investigate, and as usual the Doctors dove right in and things got messy. Now one of them is missing in the world of the Perdition." She paused to take a sip from her margarita. "When my Doctor on his own, he tends to get lost in his head."

"He?" Dean said. "You weren't kidding about the transformations. So which one is missing - the Chaos Doctor or the Order one?"

"Mine's the Order Doctor."

"Really?" Dean said. "No offense, but I'd pegged you as the chaotic type."

"Exactly. Balance, remember? I'm more chaotic, so I'm paired up with the one who isn't. Anyway, he's probably studying a fascinating alien insect he happened to notice while completely losing track of why he went there in the first place. That's where the companions come in. Usually I'd remind him that we have other priorities. But I can't follow him to Perdition, because I peeked ahead in the damn book." She shrugged. "Let's just say I have a lot in common with Pandora. Anyway, the part I read said that you went to Perdition to find him, and I stayed here. So now it has to happen that way." She studied his reaction. "I know it sounds weird."

"I've heard weirder, when it comes to aliens," Dean said. "If it were less weird, I wouldn't believe you."

He returned to his hotel room to change clothes. He'd dealt with enough aliens to value layers to protect himself from acidic slime, and he had various helpful weapons and gadgets to stash in his jacket pockets. Then he followed Amy back to the convention center.

"I've never rescued an alien from another alien," he said as they entered the building.

"That's how it is with the Doctors. You're always doing things you never imagined. It's mostly fun and exciting, until it's not. I'm starting to get tired of running for my life all the time, but according to that novel, it doesn't matter. The Doctors will be finding new companions soon." She looked like she was going to say something else, but instead she shook her head.

"Why do you call them the Doctors instead of Leela and Romana?"

"Their names change when they regenerate, and they only share those names with people they trust. There's a compulsion on companions not to use those names in front of strangers." She paused at the entrance to the vendors' room. There were booths featuring art, costumes, and toys. These were for the fun-and-games crowd, and Dean never bothered exploring this area at conventions.

"What are we looking for?" he asked.

She pointed toward a booth and a table filled with paperbacks. "Chuck. That's where my Doctor started. Tell Chuck who you are, and that you want to find the Perdition."

"And hopefully Chuck will send me to the same place the Doctor went," Dean said. "How will I recognize the Doctor when I get there?"

"Slightly shorter than you. Caucasian. Dark hair, blue eyes. He's wearing a dark suit, white shirt, blue tie, and a beige overcoat, and he usually has a very earnest expression. And he takes things very literally."

Dean nodded.

"Go," Amy said. "Your destiny awaits."

"Well that doesn't sound ominous," Dean complained, but he made his way down the aisle of booths.

Chuck looked human, but that didn't mean anything. Many aliens who targeted Earth looked human or could fake it. He was annoyingly smug, saying he knew Dean would seek him out. "You want to learn about the Perdition," Chuck announced. He placed a Back in 15 Minutes sign on his table and said, "Follow me."

It wasn't that easy. A woman grabbed the sleeve of Dean's jacket. "Did you say you're Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah." Dean turned around to face her. "Why?"

"Oh. My. God. It's him!" she shouted.

Chuck stepped forward, inserting himself between Dean and the woman. "Please, no spoilers. A lot of people haven't read the book yet."

The woman lowered her voice. "Is this a cosplay?"

"A what?" Dean asked.

"He is the inspiration for the Dean Winchester character," Chuck confided.

The woman stared at Dean a moment before pulling him into a hug. "I'm rooting for you, hon," she said softly. "Love is love, and you deserve happiness." Then she pulled away.

"Umm. Thanks?" Dean said, confused by her reaction.

"Let's go," Chuck said. He led the way to the bank of elevators that went to the hotel rooms.

"Listen," Dean said, "I haven't read more than the first two chapters, but I'm guessing from that fan's comment that you know that I'm... I'm not as straight as my dad thinks I am... But, umm, you're not my type."

"I know. This isn't about that," Chuck promised. "I have an artifact I can't make public. You'll understand when you see it."

And Dean did indeed understand. The metal, glowing bowl floated about four feet from the floor, and it was obviously alien technology.

Chuck went into a long explanation about finding it after a thwarted invasion, about the threads of light in the bowl that allowed him to trace scenes from the past, present, and future. About using those threads to discover enthralling stories that he wrote down. About the consequences of manipulating the threads to change the future.

"The more I interact with the threads, the more addicted I am, and the less human I become," he concluded. "I've already seen how the addiction will end my life." He shrugged. "Why not grab a little fame and fortune before I go? I've got the books as my legacy, and I'm helping people by sharing what I've seen. I'm not like you, not a hunter. Writing is all I'm good at."

Dean crossed his arms. He wasn't a fan of alien tech, but sometimes you had to fight fire with fire. "So you're going to what, show me the Perdition? Not send me there?"

"I can't send anyone anywhere," Chuck protested.

"What about the Doctor?"

"He's a Gallifreyan. They can travel along threads that you and I can only observe. Once he found what he was looking for, he..." Chuck made an exaggerated step forward. "He stepped into the scene. I have no idea how it works, or how he gets out."

"But you can show me where he is."

"Yes." Chuck reached his hand into the bowl, navigating more by touch than sight. "Here. It's this one. Touch the edge of the bowl and you can see it, too."

The scene was blurry at first, vague grass and trees. Then it focused on a pile of clothing. An overcoat was spread on the grass, with a carefully folded dark suit on it. On top of the suit was a white shirt, also precisely folded, and a neatly rolled blue tie. There were also white boxers with a design that looked like blue hearts.

Next Dean heard the buzzing, like a swarm of bees. As he turned his attention to the sound, the visual focus moved beyond the pile of clothing to a man, covered with what looked like comically large bees.

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

The man looked directly in his direction and said, "I'd hoped we would meet again."

"What are you doing with the bees?"

The Doctor gazed down at himself. "Ah, yes. They communicate by touch. By increasing my exposed surface area, we can exchange information more efficiently. I think I have enough, now." He reached down, picking up the overcoat as a carrier for the folded clothing while the bees drifted away. "Hold still, please, Dean. Interdimensional connections are tricky." His hand reached out of the bowl, gripping one of Dean's shoulders tight. Then he raised himself out of Perdition and into the hotel room to stand beside Dean and Chuck.

Dean rubbed his shoulder. "I think you left a bruise."

The Doctor was dressing quickly, but not seeming at all embarrassed by his momentary nudity. "If the bruise does not fade, let me know and I'll heal it. I'm fortunate you had sufficient mass and strength to support me." He knotted his tie, which was somehow turned around so that the back of the tie was facing outward. "Thank you for your assistance." He glanced toward Chuck and back at Dean. "We have much to discuss, but I prefer privacy." He reached into the bowl and plucked out one of the threads. It glowed in his hand, and he thrust it into an overcoat pocket.

"Hey!" Chuck protested.

"I won't stop you from using the metatron device," the Doctor said. "You know what it's doing to you, and that's your decision, but spying on a time traveler with this technology could endanger others." With that last remark, he grabbed Dean's nearest hand and left the room.

Dean wasn't used to holding hands with another guy in public, but the Doctor was so much more than just another guy, and Dean didn't protest. Soon they were outside, standing at the entrance of the blue box from his dreams. The interior looked different, but it was still disconcertingly large. Dean turned around, openly gawking.

"Welcome back, Dean Winchester," the Doctor said.

"You actually recognize me?" Dean asked. "I was barely four years old the last time we met."

"A Gallifreyan's eyes work differently than yours. When we meet someone, we see them across their entire timeline, from infancy to old age. So, yes, I recognized you immediately."

"Which one were you?" Dean asked. "The woman in white?"

The Doctor nodded. "I was called Romana then. Now I'm known as Castiel. Some call me Cas." He nodded toward the door, where Amy stood framed in the entry.

Her smile wobbled. "This is goodbye, isn't it, Cas?"

###

Sam stood in their hotel room, seeing evidence that Dean had left in a rush. Swim trunks, sand-covered flip-flops, and a towel were strewn across the floor, with sunglasses nearby on a bureau. Most concerning was what he didn't find. Dean's favorite laser-blaster and other alien-hunting tools should have been stowed in the drawer of the nightstand, but it was ominously empty.

He was reaching for his phone to send a text when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it to see a woman with reddish-brown hair who looked to be around thirty. "Sam Winchester?" she asked in a British accent.

"Yes."

"I'm Donna Noble," she said. "Do you believe in luck?"

"No," Sam said automatically.

"Good. You need to be level-headed in this job. We're the voice of reason around here. Follow me."

"Where are we going?" Sam asked. He stepped into the hall and locked the door behind him, but he needed more information before following this stranger any further.

"To find Dean, of course," she said.

And that's all she needed to say.

The blue box behind the convention center was exactly as Dean had described. Donna led the way down a corridor to a room with what looked like a circular sectional sofa in a hodgepodge of colors and patterns. Sitting on the sofa was another redheaded woman, two men in dark suits, and Dean.

"Welcome to the party!" called out Dean. "Take a seat. This is going to take a while."

Amy, Castiel, and Crowley - who for unexplained reasons had the nickname Ten - introduced themselves, explaining the roles of the Doctors and their companions. They gave him a novel and instructed him to read only the first two chapters. When he reached the end of the second chapter, he closed the book and said, "They're called Perdition? That's what killed Mom?"

"Well, I'd take Chuck's prose with a grain of salt," said Ten. "Not the most reliable narrator, but for now we're calling them Perdition."

"And get this," Dean added. "Cas visited their world, just now, to learn about them. He's been waiting for you to get here to fill us in." Dean turned back toward Castiel. "Did you see one? Do you know how to stop them?"

"I did not see one directly. They left their homeworld long ago when it became uninhabitable for them, but I did see them through the memories of the bees."

"Bees?" Sam asked.

"Don't ask," Dean answered in an undertone.

"I believe I know what they want, and I have a suggestion that you may consider somewhat revolutionary."

Ten smiled. "That sounds right up my alley. Let's shake things up."

Donna raised a hand. "Before we get too carried away, there's a transition to see to." She turned to Sam. "It's time for Amy and me to go back to home to our old lives. You and Dean are replacing us."

Sam shook his head. "Dean can do whatever he wants, but I'm in my last semester of undergrad. I need to get back to school. I'm scheduled to take the MCAT next week."

"Our companions need to have a strong connection," Ten said. "Spouses, siblings, that kind of thing. Dean can only join us if you do, too."

"What's your connection?" Dean asked Amy.

She mumbled something.

"What?" Sam asked.

"We're both brides," Donna said. "Ten here completely disrupted my wedding."

"Well, the groom was under alien control. You could say I rescued you from a disastrous match. He literally wanted to kill you."

"And I left the day before my wedding," Amy said. "Don't get me wrong. I love Rory, and I'd kill him if he married someone else, but I just needed..." She spread her arms wide. "I needed to explore life more before settling down."

"But you miss him," Castiel said.

"Yes," she agreed. "And I'll miss you, too."

"The thing is," Donna said. "This is a time machine. So Amy will return to the day before her wedding, and Sam, you can be back before your exam."

Sam felt all eyes on him. "We can really stop the Perdition?"

"We can make humanity safe from them," Castiel said.

"Okay," Sam agreed. What he'd read about his mother's death was enough to convince him that this was a priority. "We've got work to do."

A/N: On the SPN side, inspired by the pilot and by the line: "I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." On the Doctor Who side, inspired by the book in The Angels Take Manhattan.

Crowley got complicated for me because I was envisioning the Tenth Doctor (David Tenant), who also plays a character named Crowley in Good Omens, but I think it still works if you envision SPN Crowley.