Chapter Nine, Part One: Doctor Who

Amy isn't quite sure what it is that wakes her, but one moment she's tucked away in a dreamless slumber, and the next, she's staring across a darkened room at the sleeping form of Sam Winchester who has taken a spot next to Dean on the floor.

Confused by her sudden state of consciousness and half uncertain as to how exactly she made it onto a sofa in an unfamiliar flat, surround by a group of sleeping men, Amy begins to sit up.

She hesitates, however, as the low voices of Castiel and the Doctor drift over from somewhere in the room behind the sofa. In the doorway, perhaps?

Amy lies still, and listens carefully.

"...find anything?" That was the Doctor, his voice low and anxious.

"I'm not sure," Castiel's voice is nearly indiscernible when he speaks quietly. Amy strains to hear his next words. "Does the name… Moriarty mean anything to you?"

"Moriarty?" The Doctor repeats after a moment, "Can't say it rings a bell."

"I spoke with the demon's vessel's employers. At the grocery store. Someone heard him muttering to himself before he left work. Suddenly." Castiel said shortly. "It was the demon speaking."

"And you know this…?"

Castiel didn't reply, and the Doctor didn't pursue it.

"...So. This 'angel' business…"

"I realize that your world doesn't"

"-didn't"

"What?" Amy can hear the frown in Castiel's voice.

"Let's talk about your world. Where are you from?"

"I do not understand," Amy can almost taste his frown -waitasecond- that is not what she meant- "Heaven is not a planet, Doctor. It's a separate dimension. A celestial realm." Castiel says slowly. "Your Earth does not have such a place -at least not as this one does."

"Hold on," now the Doctor's confused. Amy recognizes it, the puzzled, hesitant way his words begin to grow. "My Earth? Your Earth?"

"Surely you've noticed."

Noticed what? Amy thinks into the ensuing silence.

"Yes. There's a… rift, of some sort." The Doctor begins, "Not in time per se -rather, in reality. This isn't my universe is it? The two Holmeses and Watsons… they're alternated versions of each other, aren't they?"

Another moment of quiet passes.

"I… am not sure what caused our realities to meld," Castiel says. "However, it is crucial that you be able to return to your own -before the space gap mends itself."

"Will it?"

"You hold the doctorate," Castiel says in all seriousness. "I thought you would know."

The Doctor lets out a short breath- an almost laugh; "Yes, I'm the Doctor, but" -a pause -"It seems like you're the expert."

Amy waits for the response and waits a long time. For a moment, she begins to think that's it, that Castiel and the Doctor will remain in a mutual silence for the remainder of the night. Her mind tugs her back toward sleep.

"I do not understand what is happening," Castiel admits. "I know someone who has the power to change reality but this -this does not seem like their work."

"Do you think the demon -or this Moriarty -know?"

"It is a possibility," Castiel says, "Though a low one at that."

Amy hears soft, careful footsteps -someone crossing the room. A board creaks, ever so slightly, and whoever it is stops.

"You...are an angel, yes? What does that mean, an angel?"

"Your Earth does not have a God?"

"My Earth?"-he hesitates- "Well, it does, I suppose. Every species has their own sort of beliefs. Some humans happen to believe in a God, yes."

"Earlier," Castiel says, realization seeming to dawn over him, "When you questioned my being -you are an alien?"

"I -well, I did think you were some sort of humanoid species. I'm still not quite sure if I…" The Doctor starts and stops. He trails off, uncertain.

"Doctor, is it that difficult? You operate a time-traveling vehicle. You're from another planet, right? Far from Earth?" There's a beat, where Castiel perhaps expects the Doctor to reply. "Then the existence of divine beings is hardly… incredible."

"It's not your -your existence. Humans believe angels to be miracle-workers, and I -that's difficult to believe, sometimes." Amy's never heard the Doctor struggle to find the right words so much.

"We are servants of our Father," Castiel concedes, "and His work may appear to be miraculous… but there is …free will. And everyone forges their own path, in the end."

"That- those are the humans I know. They're really truly so strong. So many times I've seen those with far greater power decide that they are easy to use, to destroy, whatever it may be. But the human race always fights back and always proves that they're not that easily subdued."

"The human condition… is not a weak one." Castiel agrees. "I have learned that, in my time on Earth."

"Why are you on Earth?"

"I was sent, two years ago, on a holy mission." he says, not as a revelation, but as a fact. "For thirty-nine years, my brothers and I fought our way into the depths of Hell."

Amy stiffens.

"On the fortieth year of battle, we reached the Rack and thus, the soul of Dean Winchester. He was my assignment then, and I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. I have… done my best since to protect Dean. And Sam. They have taught me much about humans."

The Doctor, after a silence, whispers contemplatively, "An angel of the Lord..."

"I am who I am, Doctor. Who are you?"

"Well, I'm the Doctor. A timelord. I suppose there's none of those over in this reality, either, is there?" He laughs softly, and it is a sad sound.

"No," Castiel says, and though his voice is still low and gruff, Amy thinks that somehow there's still a tone of comfort there. "But angels don't weep here, either."

The Doctor chuckles again, though this time in appreciation for Castiel's attempt at a joke.

Silence envelopes the apartment once more and finally, Amy gives in to her tired body and goes back to sleep.


Chapter Nine, Part Two: Supernatural

Sam is sitting in a room -a motel room, he realizes -and it looks vaguely familiar. Familiar, of course, in the way that most motel rooms have begun to look. There's the bed, a small table, a chair, a televisions… all the expected things.

And thought Sam's sure that all of his past sleeps have been filled with mind-numbing darkness, he lies on his back on the motel bed as if he does it every night.

"You know," says a voice beside his ear, "Dream settings are supposed to say a lot about the kind of character a person has."

Sam doesn't turn his head to the side in shock, doesn't even move and Lucifer continues, "What does this room say about you, Sammy? Your sense of interior decor is bland? Or is it simply motel-chic?" he cackles.

Sam frowns at the ceiling, "You're a lot less shocking when I'm asleep." he decides aloud.

Lucifer makes an affronted noise and his face is suddenly looming over Sam. "Are you suggesting that I don't intimidate you because you think I'm a figment of your imagination?"

"I know you're a figment of my imagination," Sam replies, slinging an arm over his eyes. "And I'm asleep. And also over one hundred years in the past with you still firmly in the cage. So, logically, there's no reason for you to still be here at all."

"Yet here I am," Lucifer says, and Sam can feel fingers clawing at his arm.

He refuses to give in and keeps said limb firmly plastered over his face. "Yeah," he says, "Here you are, conveniently disrupting my sleep, but one-hundred percent of a hallucination Or nightmare, I guess, since I am asleep." He feels Lucifer's hands stop prying at him and there's a shift in weight on the bed; Lucifer rolls away.

He hears a melodramatic sigh, just when he begins to think that maybe the Devil has left. "Sam," Lucifer whines, drawing out the name so that it sounds like 'Saaaam-muuuuuh', "C'mon, pay attention to me. I'm bored. Sammy?"

"No," Sam thinks, but doesn't say.

There's silence, and when Sam dares to peek out into the room, Lucifer is gone.

He sighs in relief and feels tension he didn't even know he was keeping roll off of him. He stares at the cracked ceiling of the room and then, as his eyes begin to droop close, the motel room fades to black.