WhoNautral - 10th Doctor/Supernatural

20

A longer chapter for you my good bois (yes this is a gender neutral term :P) I don't know you but I love and appreciate you <3

Loose gravel crunched underfoot as the three figures silhouetted against the trees made their way wearily down the worn-out path. Sam took the lead, his slightly hunched frame making him look shorter than he was. Dean and Castiel followed a few paces behind, walking side by side. A few moments later the Impala came into view, parked at the end of the driveway. Its inky black colour made it looks like a car-shaped void, waiting in the surrounding darkness.

"Want me to take care of that for you?" The angel asked sweetly at his shoulder. After a short pause he added: "I can feel my powers returning the further we go from the warding."

"Huh?" Dean's paces stuttered to a stop, his gaze not quite reaching Castiel. He was deep in thought, pangs of guilt washing over him. He wondered what Lucifer had shown The Doctor to illicit such a reaction from him. Demons lie, he thought, but even as the words came to him, he wasn't so quick to believe them. He also knew too well that demons could tell the truth, especially if they knew it would mess with your head. The anxious pit in his stomach grew larger. He felt a certain sense of responsibility for their newfound friend, especially since they had dragged him far out of his comfort zone and into their world of hunting. Dean didn't wish the life he and Sam had upon anyone, despite the surprisingly often protests. Some saw the thrill, the adrenalin in the face of danger. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't experienced this before; but in the end, he knew their job always eventually ended in inescapable and inevitable loss. Of friends...and family.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice broke through the darkening haze of his thoughts. "Your hand." Looking down absently, Dean could see that the handkerchief he had tied around his hand was now soaked in red. It stung dully, his wired thoughts blocking out most of the pain.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He untied the makeshift bandage, revealing the long deep cut. Castiel took Dean's hand, placing it palm-up on his. As he placed his other hand on Dean's wound, he quickly hissed the air through his teeth and jerked away slightly. Castiel looked amusedly at him.

"Wuss."

"Shut up." He tried again, taking care to keep his touch light. Dean watched as Castiel closed his eyes, focusing. His hand felt hot, then cold very quickly, and the pain subsided. Castiel opened his eyes again and gently drew his hand away. Dean inspected his palm. The blood was still there, but the gash had disappeared completely. He opened and closed his hand a few times, testing it.

"Thanks, Cas." He stared at his companion, almost in awe. Some things continued to amaze him; especially Castiel. A few years ago, he would have aggressively refuted the idea of angels existing. And yet here he was, a guardian angel at his side, who was now smiling contentedly up at him.

"You're welcome." A comfortable silence washed over them, broken in a few moments by Sam, closing the trunk of the Impala and walking round to face them.

"So, what now?" He echoed the words that were already playing on repeat in all of their heads. They had to find The Doctor, of course. He was scared, and depending on what Lucifer told him, dangerous. But they had a car, and he a time machine. They looked at each other, the same question bouncing unsaid between them.

Where would they even start?

****

The Doctor took a deep breath, trying to stop his head from spinning. The sweet smell of chocolate and coffee from the nearby café scented the cool air, calming him slightly. Chatter rose up now and again along the street as people passed by, interluded with the soft jingle of shop doors being opened and closed. The distant rumble of cars could be heard from the main road, and every once in a while a driver would honk their horn, shouting obscenities out of the window of their vehicle. Once he was feeling somewhat like himself again, The Doctor ducked into the café, walking swiftly to the back of the room and seating himself quietly in the corner, involuntarily slouching as low as possible in order to draw any attention away from him. Then he just watched. He watched people who had no time to sit down rush out with take-away cups, watched couples and groups talking animatedly over coffee and cakes, watched the people behind the counter yelling orders back and forth. Something about watching normal human people going about their normal human lives was strangely grounding. It wasn't long before The Doctor's thoughts returned to fighting with each other, as they had been doing on and off since he rushed out of that barn and pulled a random lever inside the TARDIS, not caring where he went. Had he done the right thing, running away like this? Coward, hissed a voice. Pathetic, whispered another. You just pushed away the only people that could truly understand you. The Doctor closed his eyes, massaging his temples as the other side of his brain rose up in protest.