< /TR>


Disclaimer: Supernatural and Doctor Who don't belong to me, all I on is an overactive imagination...

Dean leaned against the Impala, and eyed the contraption Sam had dragged him halfway across town to see. “It’s a box, Sammy; a blue wooden box, with windows,” he said. “A bit weird, but not exactly life threatening.”

“There’s something not quite…right about it, Dean,” Sam said, frowning worriedly. “Call it a feeling.”

“Listen, if it doesn’t rise from the grave, have yellow eyes, grow fur in the full moon, or sprout fangs, then weird is all right with me,” Dean drawled. “Let’s get out of here. There’s still that ghost down in San Fran we have to deal with.”


“Oh, I say, sorry to bother you but can I squeeze by?”

Bemused, Dean eyed the petite blonde, who had appeared out of nowhere on the sidewalk beside them, wearing a boater hat and school tie and an expectant look on her face.

“Um…what?” Sam asked.

Sighing, the cute blonde dangled a yale key on a chain in front of his face. “Kind of in a hurry, sorry; could you move out of the way?” Bemused, Sam stepped aside, sharing a glance with Dean as the blonde inserted the key into the box’s lock, and stepped inside it, firmly closing the door behind her. A few moments later, a deep, mechanical hum emanated from the box, and a shiver ran down Dean’s spine.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered under his breath. “So maybe there’s something not quite right with this picture—”

“I say, coming through, coming through!”

As one, Dean and Sam stared down the street and watched as a tall, bizarrely dressed man dodged the pedestrian traffic. “Oh, look, he’s coming our way,” Sam said smugly. “Want to lay odds on whether he’s connected with little Miss Schoolgirl?”

Dean threw Sam a dirty look, before eyeing the long, stripy scarf that fluttered behind him. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point,” he sighed. “But I still don’t see what we have to do with it.”

A bright smile gleamed on the stranger’s face as he skidded to a halt in front of them. “I say, sorry to bother you, but—”

“Can you squeeze by,” Dean and Sam chanted in unison.

The grin grew wider. “Ah, met Romana, have you?” He said breezily, as he neatly sidestepped them and rapped on the box’s door.

“Um, excuse me, but who exactly are you?” Sam asked, as Dean frowned and looked over his shoulder as the door opened. What was that strange noise?

“Oh, I’m the Doctor, pleased to meet you,” the Doctor said, grasping Sam’s hand firmly and shaking it. “Well, must dash…oh, and I’d start running, if I were you…”

“Wait—” But it was too late, the Doctor had already stepped inside, and door was once again firmly shut.

A low bellow in the distance caught Dean’s attention, and he blinked as he looked down the street. “Um…Sammy?” he said, tapping his brother on the shoulder.

Sam ignored him as he knocked firmly on the box’s door. “Hey, you in there, open up!”


” Sam snapped.

“There’s a Tyrannosaurus Rex on the sidewalk, Sammy.”

Slowly, Sam turned and looked…up. “Oh, shit,” he said.

“Shotgun,” Dean pronounced. “Large bore.”

And neither of them noticed the box fade away, with a whine of engines, as they scrambled for the Impala’s trunk…