I've been a big fan of Superwho for quite some time now, but this is my first try at writing some fic for it. So I'm understandably a bit nervous!
Basically the only thing you need to know is that this takes place directly after "The Girl Who Waited" for Doctor Who and sometime mid-to-late Season 3 for Supernatural. Also, a lot of this story has to do with the parallels of Dean and the Doctor both dealing with the fact they both know the exact day that they're going to die, and their time is running out.
Warnings: Expect a healthy dose of impending-death-related angst. Also, there's the teeniest, tiniest bit of language near the end of this. I'm not a big fan of coarse language, but it seemed out of character not to include it.
Prologue: Solitary Man
"Guess it's just you and me now, dear," the Doctor murmured quietly as he ran his hand tenderly along the smooth console of his beloved time machine. Amy had predicted it, hadn't she, all those months ago. It seemed like a lifetime now, but then again he had lived so many lifetimes… He was so very old, and for the first time in his long life he could actually feel the age. He felt it in his bones and behind his eyes even when he couldn't see it in the mirror.
Back when he was still young, he had always seen his many regenerations as a blessing: the fresh face, the constant change. It added something new and exciting to life; kept him from settling in to the same continuous, dull existence. But now he realized that it was just another lie. He knew he looked young, younger even than the average adult human, and it was all too easy to pretend that this was the case. In fact, he was so good at upholding the pretense that the humans who traveled with him tended to assume that he really was just a madman with a box, the clever alien running across the universe having mad adventures and saving people. Sometimes he believed it himself.
But now he was alone. And he now found it impossible to keep up the act, though not for lack of trying.
He didn't save people, not really. He knew that now. Oh, he could have if he just left well enough alone, but he never did. Whenever he saved someone, really saved them, he always tried to impress them further with the wonders of the universe, and of course nearly every single one jumped at the offer to travel through time and space with him. They couldn't resist. It reminded him of a story he had heard once from ancient Earth mythology, the one about the girl who was tricked into eating a handful of glistening pomegranate seeds only to realize too late that she was, in effect, dooming herself to hell.
He was able to save the Ponds in end, but who was to say that he would be able to do the same for the next impressionable young human he stumbled upon in his travels? But if the loneliness grew too difficult to endure, would he be able to resist dragging the next person he saved into this life? "Please…" he whispered in a barely audible voice to the only being that had stood by him all this time, "Take me somewhere I can do some good. Show me someone I can't destroy."
He pulled a single lever, feeling the familiar rumble beneath his feet as the time engines sprang to life. Then he slipped his hand off the controls, gripped the edge of the console until his knuckles turned white, and closed his eyes. Once the shaking and the sound of groaning metal had stopped completely, he opened his eyes and crossed to the doors without so much as a glance at the chronometer. He wanted to find out when and where she had sent him for himself.
Outside, he was immediately greeted the crisp night air of a little town somewhere in Midwestern America. The TARDIS had parked herself near the stairwell of dingy little motel, the kind of place normal folk would never stay at unless they had no other choice. Judging by the architecture and the cars in the parking lot, he was sometime in the early 21st century.
Just then the oppressive silence around him was broken by the sound of a car pulling up, and the glare of headlights blinded him for a few seconds until the vehicle was turned off. But he didn't move, and just watched as the driver climbed out and began to walk in the general direction of the stairwell, carrying a few plastic grocery bags that no doubt contained food or some other sort of supplies. At first he was puzzled by the fact that the car seemed to be from several decades prior to the current time, but as the man quickly came within speaking distance, he suddenly understood. And he knew exactly why he was here.
"Of course," he muttered to himself, a small smile flickering across his face. Then he raised his voice and addressed the man who was by now only a few meters away from him. "Hello, Dean Winchester."
Immediately, the bags hit the damp concrete, and the man whipped a small pistol from the waistband of his jeans, training it unflinchingly at the place where the Time Lord's only heart would have been had he been human. A light hanging from the mildewed wall of the motel illuminated the suspicion and mistrust on the hunter's face. His voice indicated the same as he growled out a curt response to the greeting.
"Who the hell are you?"
Sorry this was so short! I'll try to update very soon if school and work permit. Please review as feedback is much appreciated!