The Abyss Gazes Also

---

Chapter One

It was a balmy night in the lonesome October when Sam Winchester met the man with the blue box.

His loneliness had become commonplace by then. His constant companion, his nineteen-year-old brother, Dean, did his best to give them a normal life, but their father's frequent absences weighed heavily on both boys. Sam was a quiet, introspective child who loved books. Though he and Dean were close, sometimes he found that he could not relate to his brother's rock-and-roll attitude and tendency to ignore his deeper feelings and emotions with a swaggering sarcasm and willful ignorance that belied his true attitude. Sam loved that Dean took care of him so well, and appreciated the sacrifices he made to keep their family, such as it was, together, but sometimes he wished he could talk to his brother about deeper issues than whether Sammy Hagar or David Lee Roth was the better Van Halen singer.

Their father was another story. John Winchester was not a man given to emotional displays, or even to affection. He was gruff and no-nonsense, demanding respect and utmost loyalty from both of his sons. Life had not been kind to Sam's dad, who left his boys alone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time, as he continued on his mad quest for revenge from the thing that had taken his wife, the boys' mother, away from them forever. Sam loved his dad and knew that his father loved him, but his constant disappearing acts were taking a toll on both of the Winchester brothers. He had dropped them off in this hick town in the middle of nowhere late last night, promising to return in a couple of days. No matter how long he was going to be gone, it was always "a couple of days." Sam had learned not to trust to hope that his father was telling the truth.

These things and many others were on Sam's mind that stormy night. He lay awake in the crummy hotel bed, thinking about Dean, his father, and all of the horrible things that had happened to their family. He often battled insomnia. Usually a book cured it, but tonight, for some reason, he could not fall asleep. His mind was racing too much, thinking too much about things beyond his control. Sam was restless for several hours after they finally turned in, though Dean snored comfortably in the other bed, his mouth open slightly, with most of the covers kicked to the floor.

Finally, at three a.m. Sam gave up the struggle to sleep. He threw on some shoes and one of Dean's big sweatshirts over his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He grabbed the room key and tiptoed to the door, taking care not to disturb his brother, whose snoring had reached epic proportions.

The rain had finally stopped, but the air was humid in the slight breeze. The sweatshirt was plenty warm in the night air, but Sam had the feeling that the weather was soon to change. He walked aimlessly for a few moments, with his hands in his pockets and his head down, his longish hair in his eyes, taking care to avoid the puddles in the parking lot.

Suddenly he stopped and raised his head. There was a subtle difference to the air. It smelled slightly metallic, foreign and strange as well as electrified. The hair on his arms began to stand up underneath the long sleeves of the shirt, and he felt himself shiver. He began to think about going back inside when the wind picked up, whipping violently at his hair and clothes.

Then he heard a strange sound. It sounded, he thought absurdly, almost like an engine; albeit a very old one that seemed nearly ready to give up the ghost. It wheezed and grinded violently in the sudden wind, coughing in and out like a dying elephant. He looked around, puzzled, trying to find the source of the sound, but there was nothing there.

Only suddenly there was. Something tall began to flash slightly in and out of existence, like Princess Leia's hologram message to Obi Wan Kenobi in Star Wars. Sam blinked and rubbed at his eyes, convinced he was hallucinating. Finally the object took on a solid existence, stopping with a final whoosh and flash of lights.

Sam stood staring, astonished. It was a wooden box. A blue wooden box, with tiny windows and a big light on the top. It said, "Police" on what he thought was the door, and seemed rickety enough to fall over. He walked all the way around the object, his mouth hanging open, trying to process the impossible thing that had appeared in front of him.

He ran his hands over the wood, slowly, knocking softly on the door. He tried the handle but it did not budge. He stood just looking at it again for another minute or so, wondering if he ought to go and get Dean.

Suddenly the door swung inward. He was so surprised that he took a step backward, just as a tall man stepped out of the box, nearly tripping over his own feet. The man was dressed in a frilly white dress shirt that looked a bit too small for him and a pair of black trousers, with old-fashioned boots. He was broad-shouldered with closely-shorn brown hair that did nothing to hide his unfortunately large ears. He was looking down at the ground, but Sam could clearly see his sculpted, prominent nose and full mouth, grimacing in pain. He was holding a hand to his side, bent nearly double. He had already lost several buttons on his shirt, and the rest were strained near to bursting, nearly revealing his thin body and sparsely-haired chest.

"Don't just stand there, gawping," the man growled. Sam was not good at placing accents, but he thought the man sounded vaguely British. "Either get over here and help me or go away."

After a split-second hesitation, Sam stepped forward to help the man up. The man winced in pain again, but his bright blue eyes were kinder than his voice had been as he looked Sam up and down.

"Can you tell me where I am?" he asked, in a softer tone, as he placed a long arm around Sam's narrow shoulders. "I'm afraid I've gone a bit off-course."

"South Dakota," Sam said. "I, um, forget where, exactly. We've been on the road a few days."

"South Dakota, eh?" the man replied, with a slight grin. He looked around at the barren parking lot and dumpy hotel. "I've been all over the universe, but this is the first time I've ever been to South Dakota. It's a bit boring, innit?"

"Yeah," Sam said, grinning despite himself. All over the universe? Who was this weirdo?

"Can you help me get inside-er, what's your name?"

Sam hesitated. Of course his father had done the whole "stranger danger" talk when he was two or three years old. All of the Winchesters were wary of new people; knowing who to trust had often saved their lives. Sam was not quite sure what to do. His first instinct was to help an injured man, but what then? He could be a cop or an FBI agent, or worse. Much worse. But what FBI agent showed up in the middle of nowhere in a wooden box? What should he do?

The man just did not seem like he meant Sam any harm. It was not that he did not seem dangerous-actually, Sam could certainly imagine this man causing any amount of chaos-but that he was inherently good. There was an authoritative air about him, a superiority, even though he was crippled with pain and seemed, oddly, to be uncomfortable in his own skin. There was something about his eyes. They were clear and blue, like the sky, but there was a melancholic wisdom in them that seemed to belie his middle-aged looks. His eyes looked old somehow, ancient. Even full of pain as they were now, they seemed to broil with intense intelligence, like a storm waiting to break. He looked like he could command armies with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

Finally Sam made up his mind. "Sam," he said. "Sam Winchester."

"Pleased to meet you, Sam Winchester," the man said, genially. "Do you think you can help me patch myself up a bit?"

"We passed a hospital on our way here," Sam said. "It couldn't have been more than two or three miles back. I could get my brother and he could drive you-"

"No, no hospitals," the man said, gruffly. "Hate 'em. I've got a first aid kit in here."

He turned around slowly, with Sam's help. He took his hand away from his abdomen, causing Sam to start in alarm. There was quite a bit of blood drying on the white shirt.

A moment later Sam forgot all about the blood as the man pushed the doors of his strange blue box open wide. Sam was so startled that he let go of the man's arm around his shoulders, nearly sending him sprawling on the pavement.

"Oh my-it's-what is-how--"

The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's bigger on the inside," he said, reaching for Sam again. "Come on."

Sam allowed the man to put his arm back around his neck, but did not take another step. "What is this place?"

"It's the TARDIS," the man said, more gently. "It stands for 'Time and Relative Dimensions in Space.'"

"What...what does that mean?"

"It's a space and time ship," the man said.

Sam stood for a moment, staring at this bizarre stranger and his even weirder box. He blinked, opening and closing his mouth a few times before shrugging nonchalantly. "Okay," he said, and finally began to move forward.

"Okay?" the man said, incredulously. He was smiling widely, nearly laughing in disbelief.

Sam shrugged again. After everything he had seen, had done, a spaceship (a space and time ship, he reminded himself) was par for the course.

He looked into the older man's eyes and said, deadpan, "Last night my brother and I were with my dad in Boise. We hit a harpy with our Impala."

"You killed an old woman with your car?" the stranger said, sounding horrified, but strangely impressed.

"No, a harpy. You know, a woman's head on a bird's body, screeches really loud and tries to eat people?"

The man stood staring at Sam for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then, he relaxed and shrugged. "Okay."

Sam was unsurprised at the man's lack of reaction to his statement. Judging from the cavernous space he was entering, somehow held within the dimensions of this strange blue box, this man was used to impossible things. Sam began to realize absently that this man might, maybe, be an alien. He was somewhat perturbed at his lack of surprise at this supposition, but then again, if he could believe in werewolves and demons, he could certainly believe in aliens.

"Over this way," the man pointed.

They walked up a ramp and gingerly past a console of some sort, which had more levers and pulleys than Sam had ever imagined. There were blinking lights and a slight humming noise. The floor was industrial metal, but he could see more lights and wires beneath it. The walls were a sort of green and brown, and reminded Sam of coral. The entire room seemed to be pulsating with some sort of strange rhythm, almost as if it was alive.

The man led Sam down a corridor to a nondescript door. He pushed it open to reveal a large sick bay, with several gurneys and metal cabinets on the walls. The man retrieved some odd-looking bottles from one of the cupboards as well as a needle and thread, and sat on one of the gurneys.

As he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on the useless shirt, he asked, "Can you sew?"

"Yes, I can," Sam replied. "Have you got disinfectant for the thread?"

The man looked impressed. "It's right over there."

Sam went to the indicated cabinet and retrieved a disappointingly ordinary bottle of Bactine. He grabbed a nearby tub and filled it with soapy water before retrieving a sponge, as well. He walked back over and threaded the needle, dousing it liberally with the bottle before bending to look at the man's wound.

"You've done this before," the man said. It was not a question.

"Yes," Sam replied, as he squeezed the sponge to begin cleaning the man's wounds.

The man hissed as the water touched his bare skin. "How old are you?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

"Fifteen," Sam replied, not looking up from his task.

The man did not say anything more for a few moments, grimacing in pain as Sam cleaned the wound and began to sew it up. It was not as bad as Sam had previously thought, though it was filthy. The man hissed several more times and bit his lip as Sam threaded the needle through his skin, but did not swear or cry out in pain, as Dean often did.

"Have you got any booze?" Sam asked. "My brother always drinks something to dull the pain."

"I'm sure there's something around here someplace," the man said. "I have no idea when the last time was I had any spirits onboard. Forty or fifty years ago, maybe."

Sam did not know how to respond to that statement, so he said, "How about aspirin?"

"Oh no, aspirin would kill me the instant it hit my blood stream," the man said, all seriousness.

Sam stared at him, wide-eyed, and finally decided to just come out and ask. "Are you an alien?"

The man looked at Sam with his wide blue eyes. "Yes. Does that scare you?"

"No," Sam said, bending to concentrate on his task again. "Where are you from? Mars?"

"No, I'm not from Mars," the man said, sounding irritated. Sam started to apologize, but the man waved his hand. "I'm from someplace you've never heard of."

"Is it far away?" Sam asked.

"Oh yes," the man replied. His eyes had taken on a distant, empty look. "So far away."

Sam did not ask him any more questions. His whole face had taken on that blank look, and his eyes had grown moist. His skin, which had paled the first moment the needle had hit it, seemed whiter still. He looked away from Sam and began to pick absently at a thread on the shredded shirt he still held in his hands.

"And you kill harpies?" the man asked, after a few silent moments.

"Among other things," Sam admitted. "We're hunters."

"I take it that doesn't mean Bambi," the man said, with a frown.

Sam laughed. "No. Werewolves, ghosts, banshees, imps, Tricksters. Vampires, although Dad says they're extinct. Stuff like that."

The man was staring at him with a mixture of pity and awe in his eyes. He frowned, and opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off.

"I'm not lying," he said. "There's a whole group of us, all over the country."

"I never said you were," the man said.

"So you believe me?"

The man shrugged. "You believe I'm an alien, right?"

"Yes," Sam said.

"Well, we're even, then," the alien replied. "But don't you get scared?"

"Do you get scared, flying around in time and space?"

Sam's mysterious patient regarded him solemnly. "Yes. All the time."

Sam hesitated, biting his lip. "So do I. But I've got my dad-he's not afraid of anything--and my brother, too, with me. Do you have anybody, any family?"

"No," the man replied, sadly.

Sam waited for him to elaborate, but he did not go on. The atmosphere in the room had somehow changed. It was chillier, less welcoming. The man did not seem to want to discuss it any further, so Sam changed the subject.

"Are there lots of other aliens?" he asked.

"Thousands. Millions!" the man said, enthusiastically. "All over the universe."

"Are they all...like you?"

"Like me? Oh, you mean do they look human! Of course not. There's all sorts of critters out there. All different colors and shapes and sizes. Some of 'em are metal."

Sam took a moment to absorb this. "Are you human?"

"Nope," the man replied.

"You look human."

"Here," the man said.

He reached for Sam's hand. He placed it on his chest, allowing Sam to feel his heart beat. Then, he moved it to the other side, but Sam still felt the thumping. He frowned, puzzled.

"Two hearts," the man said, holding up two fingers. "I'm a Time Lord."

"A Time Lord...that sounds really important," Sam mused.

"Maybe a little," the man admitted. "Not really anymore. But it means I can travel through time as well as space."

"So you've been back in the past?" Sam asked. "Met a lot of cool people?"

"Well, yes, I've met a lot of 'cool' people," the man said, with a chuckle. "Um, Churchill, Shakespeare, Hannibal, Pliny-"

"Pliny the Elder, or Pliny the Younger?"

"Both, of course!" the man said, laughing. He seemed pleased at Sam's interest, and continued to call out names. "Clara Bow, Robert Johnson, Jim Morrison-"

"You've met Jim Morrison?" Sam asked, incredulous. "Oh, my brother would die."

"Yup," the man said, grinning that toothy smile again. "Saw the Doors at the Whisky in, what was it, '67, I think."

"The Whisky? Oh, Dean would expire. Right here, right now."

"He's good, your brother?"

"Yeah, he is. We fight a lot and say some stupid stuff, but he looks out for me," Sam said.

"That's what brothers do," the man said, with a wistful smile.

"Do you have a brother?" Sam asked.

"No," the man replied, but the flat tone he used made Sam realize he should not ask any more personal questions.

He continued to work on the man's injury in silence, until he was satisfied with his sewing job.

"There," Sam announced, a few moments later. "I'm done."

The man looked down at Sam's handiwork and smiled. "Not bad," he said, nodding appreciatively. He took a bandage from amongst the pile of supplies and put it on his wound, as Sam began to clean up.

"Now then, I had better get something to wear," he said. "I might need you to help me."

"Okay," Sam said.

The man turned to walk out of the room. For a moment he stood at the door, seeming unsure of which way to turn. Then he smacked himself in the forehead. "It's right. It's been so long since I've been there, I've nearly forgotten."

"Been where?" Sam asked, trailing behind.

He soon got his answer as the man turned and opened the door to the biggest closet Sam had ever seen. His mouth dropped open in astonishment at the sheer size of the thing. It stretched on, back into the room farther than he could see. There seemed to be no walls, and no end in sight. It was filled with fabrics of all sizes, shapes, and colors. There were coats, endlessly long scarves, women's dresses, thousands of hats, trousers in every color and length, t-shirts with funny, bizarre, and sometimes obscene logos on them, military garb, and a strange red robe and headdress that looked like it belonged in an episode of Star Trek or something. Never had Sam ever imagined that so many different types of clothes could even exist. He stood, gaping, as the strange man roamed from aisle to aisle, looking for just the right outfit.

A few minutes later, he heard a loud, "Perfect!" echo through the room. It took him another couple of moments to find the source of the voice. Eventually he stumbled across the man, who was standing in front of an enormous full-length mirror, admiring the red sweater and black trousers he had found.

"It just needs something," the man said, a finger to his lips. He looked around a moment, then grinned widely as his eyes focused on a long black leather jacket. He put it on and admired his reflection for a long moment. "Hair's a little short," he mused, sounding wistful. "Of course, the curls were a bit much last time. I could do without these ears, though." He shrugged, seeming to accept his new ensemble, and motioned for Sam to follow him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's, um, fine," Sam replied, quite unable to think of anything else to say.

On their way out of the cavernous wardrobe the man stopped and picked up a pair of black boots. He sat down on a hatbox to put them on his feet, grinning widely again.

"There, that's done," he said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together. "Now then, are you hungry?"

"No, sir," Sam said. "I had better be-"

"'Sir?'" the man asked, wrinkling his nose. "No, no, no. Blimey, I don't think anyone has called me 'sir' in centuries. Never could get used to it."

He did not respond to Sam's blank look, but continued to babble. "I told Hannibal those elephants were a bad idea, but did he listen? Of course not. No one ever does. Ah, humans."

Finally he realized that Sam was standing there staring at him. "Oh. Right. Food?"

"Sorry. I think I ought to be getting back. If my brother wakes up and I'm not there..."

"Is it just you and your brother?" the man asked, as they walked back toward the console room.

"No," Sam replied. "My dad..."

"Oh, right, you did say that."

They stood at the front door and faced each other. The man placed a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Thank you, Sam Winchester," he said. "Maybe we'll meet again one day."

"Maybe," Sam said, with a grin. He shuffled his feet, shyly. "You didn't tell me, si-um, what's your name?"

The man smiled. "Pardon my manners," he said. "Slipped my mind completely. I'm the Doctor." He extended a hand to Sam to shake.

"Doctor...?" Sam began.

"Hmm? Oh! Nothing. Just 'the Doctor.' You know, like Madonna, Homer, Charo..."

Sam stared at him blankly again. The Doctor was undoubtedly a nice man, but he was certainly the strangest person Sam had ever met.

"You know, Charo! 'Cuchi cuchi!' And all that. No?" the Doctor grinned at Sam. "Before your time, I guess."

Definitely the strangest.

"Well, I'm off," the Doctor said. "Thanks again. You're a good kid, and don't let anybody tell you otherwise. Have a great life, Sam Winchester. Be fantastic."

Sam blushed.

"'Fantastic,'" the Doctor said again. "I like that word!"

With another cheeky grin, he turned around and went back inside his ship. Sam watched as it began to blink in and out of existence again, accompanied by the grinding, unearthly engines. As it finally disappeared, leaving a whiff of ozone in its wake, he wiped the hair from his eyes and turned to go back into the room. He was exhausted at last, and hoped that Dean had finally stopped his infernal snoring.

Before he reached the door, it swung inward to reveal his brother, clad in a pair of fraying pajama pants, yawning sleepily and scratching absently at his sleep-ruffled hair.

"Hey," Dean said. "What are you doing out here? And is that my shirt?"

"I couldn't sleep," Sam said. "I just took a walk."

"Oh. Okay, well get in here. Dad called and woke me up. He's coming tomorrow at noon, and expects us to be ready," Dean explained, with a yawn.

Sam walked in behind his brother. "Really?"

"That's what he says."

"Huh. Well, good," Sam said.

"Yup," Dean replied, with another yawn. "Go to sleep. We've got another few hours before we have to get up."

Sam found himself yawning, as well. He pulled off the bulky sweatshirt and threw it into the corner with the rest of their dirty clothes. He got under the covers and settled himself in, positive now that he would drift right into sleep.

"Hey," Dean said, a moment later, just as Sam had closed his eyes. "I think I was sleepwalking or something. I heard this noise that sounded like a werewolf hacking up a lung. I went to look outside and saw you talking to a dude with huge ears standing inside a box. Crazy, huh? It must have been a dream."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said, smiling into his pillow. "It must have been a dream."

---

Chapter Two

Sam eventually told Dean about the alien in the blue box. He kept it to himself for a while, for no real reason other than how bizarre the encounter had been. He thought that Dean might be upset that Sam had gone into the TARDIS with the Doctor, a complete stranger, and he was right. After the standard lecture, though, Dean wanted to know everything about the encounter. He made Sam tell the story two or three times, particularly the part about Jim Morrison. He seemed fascinated and excited by the idea of the mysterious man who could fly about in time and space, and maybe even jealous that he had not been able to meet him.

As the weeks passed, the memories of the encounter began to fade. After a while, it was almost as if it really had been a dream. The boys decided, mutually, not to tell their father about what happened, for fear of a punishment worse than a simple lecture. It was not that John would be upset with them, though he would be; it was that they would disappoint him, something that neither of the Winchester brothers could ever bear.

So they kept the Doctor a secret, and did not mention him again, at least aloud, for a very long time. Sometimes when a job went particularly awry, Sam would wonder where he was. He had claimed to be a Time Lord, someone who could travel through space and time-shouldn't he know everything that was going to happen? Sometimes he found himself wishing that the Doctor would show up in his time machine and save them, whisk them away from the monsters and evil in the world, and take them to someplace safe. Someplace in the past, when their family had been whole, before the demon had taken their mother.

It was not until after Dean made the deal that Sam thought of actively trying to find the Doctor. Even their father's death had not made him imagine such a thing. But once he had the thought, the night Dean revealed he was going to Hell in exchange for Sam's life, he could not believe that he had not thought of it earlier.

"There's no quick fix this time, Sam," Dean said, when Sam broached the subject with him. "You haven't seen the guy in ten years. How would you even go about it?"

"I don't know!" Sam said, exasperated. "I don't understand why you're so resigned to this, Dean. Dad taught us never to give up, no matter what."

"I'm going to Hell, Sam. There is no getting out of it, not this time."

Sam frowned. He sunk down further into the passenger seat of the Impala. Suddenly the chili fries they had had for dinner that night were not settling well in his stomach.

"Let's find a place to crash," Dean suggested. "I'm beat."

A few minutes later they pulled up to a dirty roadside motel. Sam sat in the car while Dean went inside the office to get a room. He was vaguely aware of a late-model SUV pulling into the parking space beside the Impala, but did not look up to see who emerged from it. Dean came back a moment later with the keys and let them into a cramped little room with seaweed-green walls and hideous orange comforters on the beds. It was clean, though, at least, and certainly efficient enough for one night. Dean announced that he was going to take a shower. Sam decided to go get some ice, grabbing a key off the nightstand before he left the room.

As he walked around the side of the motel, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was greasy from a few days on the road. He looked up at the sky. It was a clear night, the stars bright. They seemed so far away. He stared upward, wondering if the Doctor was out there, somewhere, and how on Earth (or not, as the case might be) he would ever find him. Sam was sure that the strange alien could help him. A man who could travel through time and space, had seen and done so many things, known so many important people-surely he could find a way to kill the demon that had cursed Dean, or at least a way to destroy the deal. Barring that, the Doctor could take Dean away. He could go into the spaceship-the TARDIS, he recalled-and just never come back. He wondered if there were demons on other planets. He hoped not.

He was so lost in thought that he did not notice that he had reached the vending machines. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he filled the bucket with ice and bought some Cokes. He began to make his way back to the room, hoping that Dean was finished with the shower. He opened the room door and immediately dropped the ice bucket onto the grimy carpet, automatically reaching into the waistband of his jeans to raise the gun tucked beneath it.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded of the strange man sitting on Dean's bed, flipping nonchalantly through a Maxim magazine.

"A friend," the man said, grinning widely.

He was broad-shouldered, and had the face of a matinee idol. His brown hair was cut short and he wore a long, blue coat over dark trousers and boots. His smile was bright and white, his clear blue eyes full of mirth. He reminded Sam a little of Tom Cruise-he had the same mega-watt smile and sly sort of charm to his features.

Sam called out for Dean, who was still in the bathroom. The shower was turned off and the door was cracked, allowing steam to flow into the front room. Dean was singing, off-key and very loudly, and did not hear Sam's first call. On the second, however, he thrust his head out of the bathroom and yelled, "What? Oh."

He had seen the mysterious man, still sitting on the bed, grinning even wider at the sight of Dean's wet head. "What's going on?" he asked, as he emerged from the bathroom, clad only in pajama bottoms.

"Captain Jack Harkness, at your service," the man said, springing up from the bed to extend a hand to Dean. "And you are Dean Winchester."

"What? How do you know that?" Sam asked, not lowering his gun.

"Everybody knows," the man said, with an expansive wave of his hand. "Sam's the tall one, and Dean's the hot one."

Dean grinned for a moment, despite himself, but shook it away quickly. "Who's everybody?" he asked.

"I've been trying to find you boys for two weeks," the man named Jack said. "I've been asking around with all the hunters. I knew your approximate location, of course, but you two move around so much it was like trying to find a pebble on a beach."

"And the hunters said I was hot?" Dean asked, with a sideways smirk.

"Dean," Sam said.

Jack laughed. "I'm very glad to discover that they were right," he said, blatantly appraising Dean's fit body with a lascivious gleam in his eyes.

Dean blushed instantly, staring at Jack in shock for a moment before going to his duffel bag to retrieve a t-shirt. "Who are you, anyway?" he growled.

"You can put that gun down, Sam," Jack said. "I meant it when I said I was a friend. Trust me, if I was going to kill you, you'd be dead already."

Sam frowned, but he tucked the gun back into his jeans. Jack stepped forward and shook his hand, smiling.

"You're not so bad, yourself, Sam, if it makes you feel any better," Jack said, with a wink.

Sam smiled nervously and took a step back from Jack. "Thanks, I think," he said. "Now, would you please explain who the hell you are and what you're doing in our hotel room dressed like a World War Two R.A.F. captain?"

"I'm dressed like an R.A.F. captain because I was--still am, technically-an R.A.F. captain," Jack replied. "I'm here in your hotel room because I want to recruit you."

"Recruit us?" Dean said, incredulously. "For what, the R.A.F.? I think you're on the wrong side of the pond, man."

"No," Jack said, chuckling. "I work for an organization called Torchwood. We are sanctioned by the British government to eliminate threats to our country and to the world."

"Threats? What sort of threats?" Dean asked.

Sam was completely unsurprised when Jack said, "Alien threats. This might sound hard to believe-"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Sam murmured.

"-but there's a rift in space and time going straight through Cardiff, in Wales, and all sorts of creatures and tech fall through it. It's Torchwood's job to clean up the mess that usually occurs, and to keep it all a secret."

"Okay, I buy that," Dean said. "But why would you want to recruit us to work over in England? If you know who we are, then you know that we've got our own messes to clean up right here in the USA."

"Right," Jack said, as he sat back down on Dean's bed. "You appear to be doing a pretty fine job of it, too. Except for that whole ripping open your own rift in the middle of Wyoming thing. Wyoming, now that's a place I've never been. All these years of traveling and I've never been there."

"Trust me, you're not missing much," Dean said, with disdain. "But what do you mean, we opened a rift? That was a Devil's Gate."

Jack sighed. "Same thing, really. I don't really want to get into the metaphysics with you boys, so just think of Hell as another dimension. It's on another plane of existence, outside Earth-time. That's the easiest way I can explain it. Anyway, you two used the phase disruptor to open the rift, which set free all sorts of nasties."

"'Phase disruptor?' I don't understand," Dean said. "We used the Colt-"

"Exactly. Samuel Colt was a hunter, as you know-but he also knew quite a bit about alien tech. He created the phase disruptor to actually break down extraterrestrial organic matter. That's why it kills the demons-it literally breaks down their molecular structure and reduces their physicality to nothing, which is the same thing it did to the door."

"Wait a second," Sam said. "So you're saying that demons are aliens? Or that aliens are demons? Christ, my head hurts." He sat down on the other bed, rubbing at his temples.

"Something like that," Jack said, with a laugh. "I told you not to try to think about it too much. It's complex. You're a smart guy, Sam--I know you went to Stanford--but I've only ever met one person who could understand how all the dimensions and times work."

Sam's head snapped up. "Who was that?"

Jack smiled. "Yes, Sam, you know him, too. How did you think I even knew about you?"

Sam sat straight up, staring at Jack with his mouth open. "You mean-you know the Doctor?"

Behind Jack, Dean gasped. Jack smiled again and said, "Oh yes, I know him well. He's been keeping an eye on you two for a long time."

"A fine job he's been doing of that," Dean said, with a snort. "Why didn't he help us with the yellow-eyed demon, or when our dad was dying? How come he couldn't stop this rift, or whatever it is, from opening?"

So, Dean, too, had wondered about that. Sam was a little surprised. He had not been entirely sure that Dean had not been humoring him when he said he believed Sam's story about the man and the blue box, even after all these years had passed.

Jack turned and looked at Dean. "I'm sorry, but the Doctor can't stop established events. Things like your father's death-and your mother's too; yes I know all about that-they are fixed points in time. They would happen no matter what, even if the Doctor did intervene. I'm sorry, I know it's hard to understand, but there was nothing he could do to stop any of those events."

Dean did not look convinced, but Sam had to grudgingly admit that he understood, even if it did not quite make sense. He looked over at Jack and said, "So the Doctor thinks we can help you take out aliens?"

"He does," Jack replied. "He says that you two are very efficient monster hunters."

"So where is he?" Dean asked, sounding angry. "Why didn't he show up here himself to ask us to help you?"

"The Doctor just sort of pops in and out," Jack said. "He's got more than one planet to worry about."

"Who appointed him protector of the universe?" Dean demanded.

"Dean," Sam said.

"No one did," Jack said, matter-of-factly. "He feels responsible for a lot of what has gone on, so he does his best to save people and make things right."

"Responsible for what, though?" Dean asked. "What does that mean?"

Jack was starting to grow impatient. Sam could sense the older man's irritation in the way he shifted and fidgeted on the bed, and because the 1,000-watt smile had faded. "The Doctor fought a war-a Time War-in which many planets were destroyed. Countless species became extinct. It was between the Time Lords and some aliens called the Daleks. If it weren't for the Doctor, the whole universe would be enslaved right now. He killed his own people to protect us, all of us. Everybody in this universe, and all of the others. And there are infinite universes."

"He killed his own people?" Sam said, softly.

"Yes," Jack said. "He's the only Time Lord left."

No wonder he had seemed so distant and sad, Sam thought. He could never have imagined that this was the reason. The respect and admiration he'd always harbored for this man he barely knew grew even more, just then. Dean, too, looked chastened. He, of all people, knew what it was like to make a sacrifice like this.

After a moment of silence during which they digested Jack's words, Sam swallowed and said, "So he thinks highly enough of Dean and me that he recommended us to you?"

"Yes," Jack replied.

"Why?" Sam asked. "I only met him for a few minutes, how could he know-"

"He travels in time, remember?" Jack said. "I can only guess, but I suppose it means that at some point he sees you in action."

"Now my head hurts," Dean said, as he sat down on the bed next to Jack. "Okay, I have to ask: if we accept, what's in it for us?"

Jack smiled again. "I thought you'd get around to asking that. Well first off, we'll pay you. Handsomely. Think of it as a nice pay raise, courtesy of her majesty's government."

"How do you get away with that?" Sam asked.

"Torchwood was created by Queen Victoria," Jack explained. "It's basically been an inherited institution, down through the monarchy, ever since. Technically we answer to the prime minister, but Liz loves me, so I get away with whatever I want, mostly."

"Liz?" Dean asked.

"Queen Elizabeth," Sam said.

"Oh, right, yeah," Dean said, nodding, though Sam thought he still looked a little overwhelmed.

"What else?" Sam asked Jack.

"If you two think those pea-shooters you've got in the trunk of your car make an arsenal, well, you ain't seen nothing, yet," Jack said, with a chuckle.

"Oh, now we're talking," Dean said, sitting up straighter. His eyes were gleaming with anticipation. "What have you got?"

"It's more like what haven't we got," Jack said. "Forget your shotguns and pistols; have you ever seen what a Mora laser blaster does to organic material?"

Dean fidgeted like a kid on Christmas day. "No, is it cool?"

"Oh, ho," Jack said. Imagine shooting a tomato with a bazooka. It's like that."

Dean giggled. There was no other word for the gleeful laughter that emerged from his mouth. Sam made a mental note to tease him about it later.

"That's awesome," Dean said. "Gross, but awesome."

"Definitely," Jack said, his smile returned. "And that's just the beginning. We have so many things-bullets made of silver nitrate-"

"Perfect for werewolves and shapeshifters," Dean said.

"-a solar gun from the Rexall galaxy that filters a concentrated burst of pure sunlight that blasts vampires to kingdom come, et cetera, et cetera."

"So that's what you have to offer us?" Sam asked. "Money and guns?"

"Isn't that enough?" Jack asked. "You can't imagine that credit card scams are gonna last you forever. Anyway, there are other perks-"

"Girls?" Dean asked, with a grin. Sam gave him a look that would have bent steel. "Oh come on. He saves the world from frickin' aliens, Sam. There have got to be some innocent bystanders-and some of them have got to be pretty grateful."

"If that's what you're into," Jack said, with that lascivious grin again.

Sam rolled his eyes. "So, if we accept your offer, what do we have to do?"

"Well," Jack said, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. "The first thing we would do is have you liaise with the rest of the American team. They're a damn efficient organization in their own right-the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense."

"That's for real?" Sam said. "I've heard rumors; some crazy, unbelievable stuff."

"Completely real," Jack said. "They've only been around since the fifties, so they haven't got quite the archives that Torchwood has. Still, you boys would have a thousand times the problems you already do, if it weren't for them. They've got this agent I would kill to have working for me. They're blasted secretive; it was only on recommendation of the Queen that they'll even work with us."

"Liz," Dean said, with a chuckle. "Say, wait a second. If you're British, why do you have an American accent?"

"I've lived all over," Jack explained.

"Are you an alien, too?" Sam asked. "Is that how you met the Doctor?"

"That's a really long story," said Jack, looking inexplicably sad.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I didn't mean to-"

Jack waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it. So what do you say, boys?"

"Can I speak to Dean for a second?" Sam asked.

"Sure," Jack said. "I need to make a call anyway."

Jack got up from the bed to walk out the door of the motel room, cell phone in hand, leaving Sam and Dean to discuss developments. Sam was apprehensive, though he was inclined to believe that Jack was telling the truth. Dean just looked excited.

"Dude, can you imagine? We'll actually be working for a legit organization, getting freaking paid to gank monsters," Dean said. He was practically rubbing his hands together with glee.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said, biting his lip.

"For God's sake, Sam," Dean said. "I know we don't trust anybody, but what do we have to lose? I'm going to Hell. I might as well enjoy my last year."

"Do you think maybe they have some kind of alien technology that can get you out of your deal?"

"I don't know," Dean said. "You've got to stop getting your hopes up, though, Sammy."

"Dean," Sam said, frowning. "What do you want me to do, give up?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Dean said, even though it seemed as if he was. "I just mean that maybe you need to accept the inevitable."

"No," Sam said, growing angry now. "Never. This happened to you because of me, Dean-you made a deal to bring me back from death, and there is no way in Hell-literally-that I'm going to let you go down for me. No way."

Dean smiled, but Sam could tell that his brother was only humoring him. Sam was alarmed to realize that Dean had given up-he was entirely resigned to his fate at the end of that year. Dean had always been brave, but now the look in his eyes seemed almost reckless. Sam wondered if his brother's motive for accepting Jack's admittedly tempting offer might not be simply to look for a way to kill himself without actually pulling the trigger.

This upset Sam more than he could even express. If there was one thing that their father had taught them, it was never to give up, never to allow despair to overtake them, to fight, to the death if necessary, not only to help innocent people, but for each other. Sam would be damned, literally, if he would stand aside and let Dean commit suicide.

Still, Sam had to admit that Jack's offer was more than just tempting. It would solve their monetary issues, that was for sure, but beyond that, his offer of an infinite arsenal made Sam nearly as excited as Dean was. Sam did not particularly enjoy the job, but if there were ways to make it easier, he was all for it.

Of course, there was also the other thing Jack had mentioned, which was definitely a highlight, at least to Dean. "Did you not hear him talk about the chicks?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure he was talking about chicks, exactly, at least not in his own case," Sam said.

"What? Oh, just because he said I was hot? Everybody thinks I'm hot."

"Riiight," Sam said.

"Anyway, so what if he likes dudes? I'm sure the principle is the same," Dean said.

"Yeah, I guess," Sam said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. "So are we doing this?"

"It makes sense, Sam. You have to admit that."

"It does," Sam said. "I know he seems trustworthy, but don't you think we ought to at least run it by Bobby first? Remember, he told us he'd never found anything about aliens being real."

"Bobby Singer?" came Jack's voice from the doorway. "Yeah, he's seen aliens before. Dozens of times. He was even going to consult you two on a case a couple of years ago-until we retconned him, anyway."

"Retcon? What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"It's a drug," Jack explained. "It makes people forget exactly what you want them to, and allows you to replace what really happened with false memories."

"Man, we could have used that a time or two, eh, Sam?" Dean said, chuckling again.

Sam's mouth was hanging open in disbelief. "You did that to Bobby? He would die if he knew that!"

"Good thing he doesn't know it then, yeah?" Jack said.

Dean was smiling, but Sam stared at him incredulously. "You think this is okay?" Sam asked him.

"Well, no, not exactly," Dean said. "But can you imagine the look on Bobby's face if he found out?"

"Well, uh-"Sam thought about it for a moment. He tried to cover up the smile that was involuntarily taking over his face, but gave up after a moment. "Yeah, that would be something to see."

Jack laughed again. "I hate to cut this short, boys, but I'm expected in Connecticut early tomorrow morning, and I've got a flight to catch."

"What, you don't have some alien gadget that lets you, like, teleport wherever you want to go?" Dean asked, with a snort.

"I had one," Jack said, matter-of-factly. "Until the Doctor broke it."

"Right," Dean said. "Of course."

"So should I get you boys some plane tickets?" Jack asked, with a hopeful grin.

"No," Dean said quickly.

Jack looked confused and upset. He opened his mouth to speak when Sam cut him off. "Dean doesn't like to fly," he said. "I think he's seen Final Destination one too many times."

"Dude, if people knew that was based on a true story, they'd never fly again," Dean said, his face gone white.

Sam rolled his eyes. "So if you could just give us directions, we'll meet you there in a couple of days."

Jack laughed and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Sure thing," he said. He looked at both boys thoughtfully for a moment. "Look, guys, this is a good thing you're doing. I just want you to know that."

A few minutes later, Jack was gone in a flurry of exhaust fumes. Dean shook his head. "He drives like a maniac."

"Whatever, dude," Sam said, as he walked back into their motel room to repack his bags.

---

Chapter Three

Sam did not sleep well that night. He tossed and turned, and had awful dreams in which Dean was dragged away to Hell, while he stood by doing nothing. Worse, their father stood behind Sam and screamed at him, berating him with horrible names, and blamed him for everything. He woke up more than once in a cold sweat, only to find Dean sprawled out on the other bed, snoring away, seeming to be without a care in the world.

It was not that he wanted Dean to be afraid, or to suffer terrible dreams. He just wanted him to give a damn. Sam did not know how to convey this to his brother without pissing him off. He simply could not understand Dean's attitude. He supposed that part of it was certainly denial, but how long could Dean continue to cling to that? He needed a reality check, and fast, before it was too late. Sam hoped that the mysterious Jack Harkness, with his far-fetched stories and outlandish promises, would be just the jump-start Dean needed to get his ass in gear and figure out a way to get out of the deal. Otherwise-well, Sam did not want to think about what would happen otherwise.

It took them nearly three days to get to Connecticut. The Impala blew a tire near Boise, requiring half a day to get it fixed, a day the boys spent in a dingy bar, pilfering wi-fi from somewhere nearby, doing almost completely unsuccessful research on Torchwood and the Doctor himself. All they pulled up were some schematics for a now-defunct corporation called H.C. Clements and a lot of vague rumors. Sam had to admit one thing-Jack's group was good at covering their tracks-- very good.

Eventually they finally arrived at the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, a massive structure surrounded by miles of fencing, armed guards, and ferocious-looking dogs. There were no identifying marks on the outside of the building; it looked like any typical, nondescript government facility. Sam was vaguely relieved at this. He had not exactly expected anything else, but he was relieved all the same.

An agent named Tom Manning met them at the entrance, after the usual security protocols were enforced. Sam and Dean both wore visitors' passes on their lapels, and their weapons had been confiscated in what they were assured was routine procedure; they would get them back upon exiting the building.

Manning was a typical balding, prissy bureaucrat. He was a nervous man who constantly mopped at his shiny, sweating forehead with a pocket handkerchief. He looked disappointed at the sight of Sam and Dean, who apparently did not look very impressive. He showed them around the Bureau with an air of disdain, as if he could not possibly believe that these two essentially nice-looking young men were in the business of eliminating monsters.

Manning showed them all of the offices and followed that up with a tour of the archives. Sam's inner academic drooled at the sight of the rows and rows of ancient books in the B.P.R.D. library. His mouth dropped open at the sight of the arsenal of mythical weapons they possessed-there was a broken sword Manning swore was Excalibur-both Winchesters were disinclined to believe him-and a quiver of arrows that had supposedly belonged to Robin Hood. The thing that snapped Sam's head round, however, was a glass case enclosing a broken-off old piece of staff that the B.P.R.D. claimed was the Spear of Destiny.

The Spear of Destiny, Manning explained, was supposedly what remained of the spear used to pierce the side of Christ before the Crucifixion. Stained with Christ's blood (and this object was, indeed, splashed with dried-brown gore that could certainly be centuries-old blood), the Spear made whoever possessed it invincible. Not only invincible, but invulnerable.

Sam's mind began to whirl. If Dean could get ahold of that holiest of objects, the demons could not touch him, no matter how desperately they tried. Even if it was only a temporary solution, as it was likely bound to be, it could still hold them off long enough to allow Dean and Sam to locate the Doctor to help them find something more permanent. Of course, they had to get the thing first, which, considering the security in this place, would be next to impossible.

Sam glanced over at his brother as Manning droned on and on about a broken-off old arrow that had supposedly slain a dragon 10,000 years ago somewhere in the middle of the earth, whatever that meant. Dean, too, was staring at the Spear of Destiny with what could only be interpreted as desire in his eyes. For the first time in several days, Sam felt hope flare up in his belly. Perhaps this meant that Dean had not quite given up, after all.

"Well, let's go and meet the rest of the team, shall we?" Manning said, with an expansive gesture, smiling at the boys, smugly.

"About fricking time," Dean muttered. "I almost fell asleep back there."

"But you thought what I think you did, right?" Sam whispered back.

"I did. Do you think we can get it?"

"I have no idea," Sam admitted. He looked around at the cavernous structure in which they found themselves. "This place is a fortress. How the hell would we get it out?"

"I don't know, man. The Spear of Destiny, though! Where did they get it?"

"Did you not pay attention at all?" Sam said, exasperated. "They found it in a castle in France, along with some busted old grail."

"Grail? You mean like Monty Python-I-fart-in-your-general-direction-type Grail?"

"Something like that," Sam said, rolling his eyes again.

"Are you boys coming?" Manning demanded.

Sam and Dean looked up to discover that not only had they stopped walking during their conversation, but Manning was also several feet ahead of them, thumping his foot in impatience.

"Sorry," Dean muttered as they jogged ahead to catch up with the prissy agent. "There's gotta be a way," he said to Sam. "We'll figure it out."

"I hope so," Sam said. "It's got to be the answer; I just know it."

Finally they caught up to Manning and were forced to end their conversation.

"As I was saying," the B.P.R.D. agent said. "You boys are especially privileged. You get to work with our best agents. Not many people even know they exist, let alone get to meet them."

"Wonder what kinda freaks these guys are," Dean said, chuckling as he elbowed Sam.

"Red, as we sometimes call him, has been caught on tape one too many damn times," Manning growled. "He gets off on the attention. He won't admit it, but he does. If I see one more goddamn grainy YouTube video-"

"Aw, it must be awfully uncomfortable to walk around with that stick up your ass all the time, Tom," came a gruff voice behind them.

Sam turned around to catch a glimpse of the person who had spoken, but before his eyes caught full sight of him, Dean let out a guttural cry and launched himself at the direction of the voice, screaming obscenities and snippets of Latin exorcism rituals.

"Jesus, Dean, what the-"Sam began, but then he caught sight of the person himself.

It was a demon. A seven-foot-tall, red, hoofed demon. What Sam could see of it, rolling around on the floor with his brother, was heavily muscled and black-haired. It appeared to be holding a massive stone in its right hand, and had a goatee. There was something on its head, some sort of goggles-no, they appeared to be horns, only sawed off to nubs. It also had a tail, a thin, pointed thing that whipped out behind it as it gripped Dean by the throat in its massive hands.

"Let him go, you son of a bitch!" Sam shouted.

The demon actually rolled his yellow eyes at Sam, and at Dean, who was choking and sputtering in its hands. "What the hell, Manning?" it demanded, in that same deep voice. "I thought I was meeting those Winchester guys today, not some damn kids."

"Er, these are the Winchesters," Manning said, his face growing nearly as red as the demons. I'm afraid they weren't briefed properly-"

"Briefed?" Sam said, incredulously. "Briefed on what? The fact that you've got a fucking demon working for you?"

"Oh jeez," Manning muttered. "Put him down, please, Red."

The demon released Dean without another sound, dropping him to the floor like a stone, where he gasped for air, clutching at his throat. Sam ran to his brother and helped him to his feet.

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice demanded, from behind the group.

It was Captain Harkness, dressed once again in his greatcoat. He looked furious. He furrowed his brow in anger as he placed his hands on his hips to survey the scene.

"De-demon," Dean choked out, pushing Sam's hands off his shoulders. "You're in cahoots-with demons."

"Wow, I can't remember the last time anybody used the word 'cahoots' in my presence," Jack said, shaking his head. His voice took on a sarcastic tone. "Such an archaic word, really, and I ought to know."

"Jack-"Sam began.

"And I take offense to being accused of being in 'cahoots' with anyone," Jack said. "Really, if you didn't trust my motivations, why did you come here in the first place?"

"We did trust you," Dean said, angrily, his voice hoarse. "We trusted you, and you sent us here, knowing there was a demon." He sounded hurt and betrayed.

The demon raised its hand. "If I could speak, for a second?" Everyone turned to look at it. "Yeah. Manning, Jack, it seems like you both dropped the ball on this one. The name's Hellboy."

He reached the stone thing out to shake the Winchesters' hands. Sam finally realized that it actually was his right hand, somehow. He and Dean both stared at the creature, making no move to accept his handshake.

"Right," Hellboy said. He turned to Jack and Agent Manning. "You boys got some 'splainin' to do."

Jack shook his head. "God damn it," he said, to no one in particular. "How did this get so fouled up?"

"I don't know," Dean said. "But somebody better tell me what the hell is going on right now, before I gank all of your asses."

"Hardly," Jack said, with a condescending smile. "Okay, this is how it is. Sam, Dean, this is Hellboy. Hellboy is an agent for the B.P.R.D., and yes, he is a demon. You're the son of Satan, in fact, aren't you, H.B.?"

The red demon merely glared at Jack, unanswering.

"Right," Jack continued. "So, Hellboy here came to the B.P.R.D. in the fifties as a baby, and was raised by the former director, Professor Trevor Bruttenholm. It's a long story. Anyway, he's the best agent they've got. I'd put my life in his hands-I have done, many times."

"Let me get this straight," Dean said, still sounding angry. "He's a good guy?"

"Yes," Jack said, without hesitation. "He is."

"Well, forgive me if I have trouble believing you," Dean said.

"I don't care if you believe him or not, kid," Hellboy said, a growl present in his voice. "I was killing monsters before you were a gleam in your daddy's eye, so don't give me any crap."

"What do you know about my dad?" Dean demanded.

"A hell of a lot, actually," Hellboy said, matter-of-factly. "John Winchester and I go way back. We took out a Grecian demi-god in San Diego, back in '85."

Sam and Dean stood staring, open-mouthed, at the red face before them.

Hellboy scratched absently at his goatee and shrugged. "Yeah, that was a tough one. Finally we torched its ass and went to kick back a few beers. Man, your dad could throw down."

Sam's mind was whirling. Their father had worked-hunted-with a demon? Sure, Hellboy seemed like an amiable guy, with his devil-may-care (literally) attitude, his sawed-off horns, and the stogies Sam saw in his trench-coat pocket. But he couldn't imagine his dad, the perpetual monster-hater, the no-mercy, no-nonsense, no-questions-asked John Winchester, throwing back a few beers with a seven-foot-tall, wise-cracking demon. No way.

Of course, there was also no way to dispute Hellboy's claims, so he had to believe them. Dean, too, seemed resigned to accepting the truth, even if he did look defensive and hurt. Sam turned to Hellboy and reached out his hand.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "There's no need for us to get off on the wrong foot, if we have to work together. I don't quite understand all of this, but I'm willing to accept it. My name is Sam, and this is my brother, Dean."

Hellboy's stone hand felt rough and alien in Sam's calloused grip. His own hands, which were not small, were dwarfed in Hellboy's grasp, swallowed up by the cement-like grip. Dean, too, reached out to shake hands, looking utterly bewildered by the turn of events.

"Look, let's just get you boys situated," Jack said. "We'll get you settled into a room for tonight, and tomorrow we'll give you a proper debriefing and introduce you to the rest of the team."

"What's next?" Dean asked, sarcastically. "Is their ammunitions expert an angel?"

"Er, no, um-"Hellboy began, but Jack cut him off.

"There's plenty of time for that tomorrow. Good night, H.B., Tom; Winchesters, come with me."

Sam and Dean fell into step behind Jack. Dean kept glancing back behind them, muttering to himself. As they rounded a corner, Sam heard Hellboy say, "Manning, you stupid ass. How could you allow them to come in here with no idea, after what they've been through?"

"Don't you take that tone with me!" shouted Manning.

"Ah, shove your tone. You screwed up, that's all there is to it!"

Reluctantly Sam found himself almost liking the gruff demon. Dean's face had gone blank, but he saw a spark of amusement in his brother's eyes, as well. Hellboy seemed like just the type of person Dean would be friendly with, and Sam suspected that Dean realized this, as well. This whole thing was damned confusing, but Sam suspected that meeting Hellboy was nothing compared to what they would think of the rest of the B.P.R.D. He sighed and focused on catching up with Jack.

The captain took them to a luxurious suite of rooms on the other side of the facility. Dean practically dove into the enormous king-sized bed and settled back into the pillows with a sigh of pure bliss. Sam laughed and shook his head as he surveyed the rest of the suite. There was a bathroom in the middle, with a huge tub that could fit several people into it--he wondered if Hellboy's size was not an influence on the design structure of the entire facility. There were two white sinks in front of a wall-sized mirror, upon which several fluffy white towels had been placed. The other side of the bathroom was Sam's bedroom, which, in addition to another fabulously large bed, included a 32-inch flat screen TV with VCR and DVD player, a closet in which to hang up his clothes, and even a mini-bar in one corner, fully stocked.

"Dude," Dean said, a moment later, as he stuck his head through the bathroom door to Sam's room. "They've got Wii. This place is awesome!"

"Yeah, it is," Sam replied, as he unzipped his duffel bag. All of their luggage had been brought into the rooms, including Sam's laptop, which lay open on a fancy chestnut desk in the corner opposite the mini-bar. "You know what the best part is?"

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Getting our own rooms. If I have to share one more nasty hotel room with you, listening to you snore..."

"Hey," Dean said, with a frown.

Sam smiled. He took a balled-up pair of socks from his bag and chucked them at his brother's face. Dean narrowly missed getting hit in the eye with the projectile, but Sam could hear him laughing as he went back into his own room.

---

Chapter Four

That night, in the giant B.P.R.D. bed, Sam slept as he had not for months. He was not sure why. Perhaps it was merely knowing that here, in this massively-enforced structure, they were safe. Manning had informed them, on the tour, that the building had been built with layers of salt inside the bricks and mortar, and all of the water used for the project had been blessed by the Pope beforehand, in addition to a blessing from a priest during the actual construction of the project. The entire place was a literal devil's trap--nothing supernatural could get inside that kind of fortification. It made Sam wonder exactly how Hellboy got around all of the charms and incantations, but perhaps he was immune to it all simply because he was good. Sam had noticed a crucifix hanging from the demon's belt, so apparently he truly was on their side. Consumed with curiosity, before slipping off into sleep he had set up his laptop and acquired a wi-fi signal. He discovered that someone had tinkered with his computer a bit, but they had only updated all of his virus software and added some RAM. In addition, he had access to all of the Bureau's personnel files, so he spent a few minutes getting to know the big red demon's story.

"--and so Professor Bruttenholm--Broom, they called him--adopted Hellboy. He even called him 'Dad.' He's lived in the Bureau's facilities ever since. It used to be in New Mexico, near Area 51, but they relocated it here. Professor Broom designed the place himself."

It was morning. Sam and Dean were eating a massive breakfast at a table in Dean's room. Sam had decided to inform his brother about what he had found on the internet, as they feasted on a smorgasbord of eggs, homemade pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast, bagels, fruit, and more juices and drinks than Sam could even identify. It was better than they had eaten in weeks--months, probably--and Sam could scarcely keep Dean's attention on his words.

"So you think we should trust him?" Dean asked.

"I think so," Sam admitted. "I mean, he knew Dad. Dad didn't trust anybody."

"That's true," Dean said, with a chuckle. "He does kind of remind me of, well, us."

"He does," Sam said, laughing. "He seems like an every day sort of guy, even though he's a demon."

"Who ever thought we'd be pals with a demon?" Dean asked, shaking his head.

"Not me," Sam said. "I don't plan on making a habit of it, despite how cool Hellboy seems."

"Me neither," Dean said, around a mouthful of pancakes and maple syrup. "This is some serious cash going on here, too. Who the hell funds this place?"

"Well, as far as I could tell, it's a part of the FBI. Manning is technically in charge, after the Professor's death, but it seems like most of what he does involves trying to babysit Hellboy and keep him out of the public eye. He's not doing that great a job, because I found hundreds of YouTube videos, just like he said."

"Stupid cell phone cameras," Dean muttered, around a bagel slathered in cream cheese.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He took a sip of coffee. "The rest of the team is made up of a lot more FBI agents, and two other 'paranormal' types, although there appears to be a B.P.R.D. in Germany, as well, and a sort of joint Torchwood-Bureau agency in Russia. And that's not counting UNIT, either."

"What's UNIT?"

"The Unified Intelligence Task Force. I guess they used to be the 'United Nations Intelligence Task Force' but they got into some hairy situations and the UN asked them to remove their affiliation. Anyway," Sam paused to take another drink of his coffee. "They're another group located in Britain, though it seems like they're much more military-oriented than Torchwood or the B.P.R.D."

"Mm," Dean said, as he gulped down half a glass of orange juice. After he was finished he said, "So these other 'paranormal' people--who are they?"

Sam did not have time to answer his brother's question, as the very people they had been discussing showed up in the door to Dean's room. Hellboy was in the lead, with Captain Jack behind him, followed by a lovely, though sullen-looking, dark-haired woman dressed entirely in black. She was about thirty, so far as Sam could guess, and though she smiled at Dean and him, she seemed irritated with something. Her eyes were dark and hooded, and she bit her lip nervously. Hellboy introduced her as Elizabeth Sherman.

"Call me Liz," she said, as she extended her thin hand to shake first Sam's, and then Dean's.

"Another Liz," Dean said, with a grin. Everyone looked confused except for Jack, who smiled, and Sam, who shook his head. "You don't look very paranormal, if you don't mind me saying. Though you are hot."

"You have no idea," Liz said, with a smile Sam could only describe as wicked. She extended her arm toward Dean and snapped her fingers quickly. A blue flame rose out of her fingertips, rolling across her palms and over her hand.

"Wow," Dean said.

Sam snickered. It was not often that his brother became speechless. Liz smiled again and closed her palm, extinguishing the flame in a puff of blue smoke.

If Dean was speechless on meeting Liz, then he became near-catatonic on sight of the next person who came through the door. He was tall, though not as tall as Hellboy, and blue. His face, his bare chest, every inch of visible skin on his body was bright blue, streaked with darker spots across his flesh. His eyes had no features to them whatsoever--they were entirely black. It was almost as if he was--

"--a fish," Dean was saying. "You're a fish-man."

"I prefer the term 'ichthyo sapien,'" the man said, and Sam was surprised to hear that he had a light, musical voice. He was wearing some sort of breathing apparatus around his--yes, those were gills--that made his voice sound tinny and far away. He extended a webbed hand to Dean and said, "I am called Abraham Sapien, but most people call me 'Abe,' and Hellboy sometimes refers to me as 'Blue.'"

"Red and Blue," Dean said, with a grin. He peered down at Abe's hand, apparently over his initial shock.

Abe offered his hand to Sam next. Sam could read no expression in those dark, blank eyes of his, but the way Abe started when he touched Sam's hand was unmistakable.

"Oh," he said, in that lilting voice of his. "You have a powerful psychic ability."

"A very unwanted ability," Sam said, with disdain.

"Yes," Abe said. "It seems to originate from a place of darkness."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "It came from a demon," said Sam. "And I'm not the only one."

"No," Abe replied, sounding sad. "I can see that. But it's dead, now?"

"Yes," Dean replied. "That's part of the reason why we're here."

"Ah yes," Jack interjected. "The rift in Wyoming. Have you ever been to Wyoming, H.B.?"

Hellboy opened his mouth to speak, but Liz cut him off. "Let's not start that again, okay? He's been going about Wyoming all morning, for some reason."

Jack winked at the Winchesters before moving back toward the door. "Let's go to the briefing room to discuss this, shall we?"

"Do we have to?" Dean muttered, staring longingly at the still-enormous pile of food.

"Liked the pancakes, did you?" Hellboy asked, with a grin. "They're my favorite, too."

"How do they get 'em so fluffy? It's like eating air--"

"Wait until you see dinner," Hellboy said.

Dean's eyes lit up in pure delight. Everyone laughed, and Hellboy hooked an arm around his neck as they headed out the door. Sam walked behind them, his head cocked to one side, taking in the sight of his brother buddying it up with a demon.

"How are you holding up?" Jack asked.

"This is all very...surreal," Sam said, with a self-conscious chuckle. "If you had asked me, a week ago, if we would be in a secret government facility in Connecticut hanging out with a demon, a pyrokinetic, and a fish-man, I'd have told you you were crazy."

Jack laughed. "You seem to be taking it all in very well. Dean, too."

"There's not a lot that surprises us anymore, to tell you the truth. I think it helps a lot that you all really do feel like the good guys."

Jack inclined his head sideways at Sam as they walked. "'Feel,'" he said. "So you haven't entirely lost the psychic abilities?"

"Not entirely," Sam admitted. "I thought that by killing Yellow Eyes, it would destroy that stuff, too. Apparently not. If anything, it feels a little stronger on meeting Abe."

"Abe has that effect on people," Jack said. "I gave you a little nudge when I met you, back in that hotel room, and you barely reacted. But since you shook Abe's hand, you've been broadcasting all kinds of stuff." He shivered.

"You gave me a nudge?" Sam asked, incredulous. "Does everybody have psychic powers?"

"No, not everybody," Jack said. "Dean, for one, manifests no psychic ability whatsoever."

"For which he's damn glad," Sam said.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?" Jack asked, with a grin.

"Well...yes," Sam admitted. "I would give anything to be normal, to not have to hear all this...static...inside my head all the time. It's horrible."

"That's just because you don't know how to use it," Jack said. "With practice, you could learn to control it. Eventually it would be involuntary, like breathing."

"I'm not sure if I want that," Sam said. "It seems...unnatural."

"What is natural?" Jack asked, with a casual shrug. He gestured at the group in front of them. "You say you can tell that we're all good, right? There are some people who would think we were bad, just from looking at us. I mean, Dean tried to beat the bollocks out of Hellboy on first sight of him."

"'Tried' being the key word," Sam said, with a grin.

Jack grinned back. "Right. But let me guess, after the initial introductions, you found yourself liking him, even trusting him?"

"Yes," Sam said.

"I'm sure a major part of it is his personality, which is quite infectious, I have to admit--" Jack paused, chuckling gently at the loud guffaw that issued from Hellboy's mouth at something Dean whispered to him. "--but you also just knew inherently that he was trustworthy, didn't you?"

"I-I suspected it," Sam admitted.

Jack smiled widely, satisfied at his answer. "You knew it," he said.

"Okay, so I did," Sam said. "What of it? What did you mean by 'practice?'"

"Well, there are certain activities you can do to enhance your abilities. Certain mental exercises and such. Abe can help you. And the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" Sam said. "Is he going to be here too? When do we get to see him?"

"Easy, kid," Jack said. "I have no idea. I know what you know. You see him again eventually, remember? That's all."

"Oh," Sam said, trying not to show how disappointed he was.

Jack reached over and slapped him on the back. "Chin up, there, Stretch."

Sam blushed. "Thanks, Jack. For all of this."

"Don't mention it. And Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Dean's going to be okay. Somehow, whether it's the Doctor or something else, you'll figure out a way to save him. I know it."

"I think maybe you're a little too confident in our abilities," Sam said.

"Nonsense," Jack said. "I know what I'm talking about."

They arrived at the debriefing room. Manning was already waiting inside, standing behind a long meeting table, tapping his leg impatiently again. "Where have you people been? We've been waiting to start the meeting since nine, and it's nearly eleven."

"'We?'" Hellboy said, glancing around. "I don't see anybody but you, Manning. And you were still asleep at 9:30; I heard you snoring down the hall.

"Are you sure it wasn't yourself you were hearing?" Liz asked, dryly. "I don't know how you hear anything. You sound like a buzzsaw. Thank God for earplugs, or I'd never get a wink."

"That sounds familiar," Sam muttered, under his breath, receiving a deadly glare from Dean for his troubles.

"All right, all right," Manning said, his face red. "Let's all calm down and get started."

Everyone stifled their smiles and sarcastic comments as they each took a seat around the table. Sam ended up in between Jack and Dean, with Hellboy on Dean's other side. Manning sat across from Sam, with Liz and Abe on either side of him.

"Now, I assume that introductions have been made, Captain?" Manning said.

"Of course," Jack replied.

"Now that you've all gotten to know each other, I thought it was time to acquaint you with the rules of this operation," Manning said.

"Rules? What the hell, Manning?" Hellboy said. He turned to the Winchesters. "Okay, this is how it works. Kill stuff. Kill stuff a lot, but try not to make a mess out of it or let yourselves be seen. That's about it."

Dean laughed, but Manning's face took on a deep scowl. "You can't even do that, Red. There is a procedure we have to follow, a protocol for everything--"

"We don't really do protocol," Dean said. "We can keep things quiet, don't worry about that."

"Oh really?" Manning snorted. "Last I checked, you two were wanted in about four states. That's not keeping things quiet."

"Six states," Dean said. "And those were all huge misunderstandings. Things we couldn't help."

Manning flipped through a file. "It says here that you two held up a bank, and later broke out of prison--"

"There was a shapeshifter in the bank," Sam said. "And a ghost in the prison."

"Right," Manning said, waving his hand to dismiss them. "All I'm saying is that the B.P.R.D. will not tolerate anything like this."

"What will you do, kick us out?" Dean said, angrily.

"Retcon," Jack murmured.

"Retcon? Jesus Christ, Manning," Hellboy said. "Is that really necessary?"

"I hope not," Manning said. "Look, I'm just warning you two that we will take all essential precautions to ensure that word of this endeavor does not get out. Is that understood?"

"Yeah," Sam growled. "Clearly."

The rest of the meeting was much of the same. Manning drilled what seemed like endless rules into their heads, frequently ignoring interjections from the rest of the B.P.R.D. team and from Jack, who seemed utterly exasperated by the whole thing.

"He's just blowing smoke out of his ass," Jack said, as they finally emerged from the room, two hours later. "If it comes down to it, Torchwood has authority over the Bureau, and we can step in to shut him up and leave you guys alone."

"Can I defect?" Hellboy asked, dryly.

"You did come from Scotland, didn't you?" Sam asked.

"You did quite a bit of reading last night, I see," Hellboy said, sounding impressed.

"That's what he does," Dean said.

"Sounds like Abe," Hellboy said. "He reads more than anybody I've ever known."

"You just think everybody else reads a lot because you don't at all," Liz said.

"What is this, 'Pick on Red Day?'" Hellboy asked, but he was smiling. "I read."

"TV Guide is not reading," Liz said. "Back me up, here, Abe."

"You do seem to have significant gaps in your knowledge of literature, Red," Abe said, sounding reluctant to poke fun at his friend.

"Aww, who cares if I haven't read Ulysses," Hellboy muttered, with a scowl.

"I know, right?" Dean said. "Sometimes Sam jumps all over me because I haven't read something. Well, Sam hasn't read On the Road."

"What!" Hellboy exclaimed. "Really? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Sam said. "I just haven't gotten around--"

Hellboy and Dean laughed. "Kerouac, man," Hellboy said. "Now that's a book."

"I met him once," Jack announced. "I was in a bar with Allen Ginsburg and he showed up. Outdrank both of us, but a hell of a conversationalist."

"Sometimes, Jack," Hellboy said. "I don't know whether you're serious, or if you're making it up to impress us."

"Oh, I never make things up," Jack said. "I don't need to."

"Sounds like it," Sam said, with a grin. "So what do you guys think about our first assignment?" He held up the folder Manning had given out to everyone. "This sounds like your standard haunting, to me."

Dean flipped through the pages. "Yeah, me too. Small town West Virginia, old dark house, blah blah blah."

"Oh, but you missed the part about the lights in the sky and the crop circles in the corn fields," Jack said. "That's not part of a normal haunting."

"Still," said Sam, shrugging. "All that kind of stuff usually tends to be fake. Some stupid kids messing around, creating an alien hoax to scare people. I mean, it's West Virginia, what else do they have to do?"

"That's a good point, Sam, and I hope what you are saying is true," Abe said.

"Sounds like mass hysteria to me," Liz said. "Everybody hears about aliens and starts imagining anal probes and stuff."

Sam ignored Dean's snicker at the mention of 'anal probes' and asked, "Jack, you're our resident alien expert. What do you think this is?"

"There's only one race I can think of that is actually known for abducting citizens of other planets to do experiments on--"

"Are they creepy little green dudes with big, black bug-eyes?" Dean asked. "No offense, Abe."

"None taken," Abe said.

"No," Jack replied. "They're Daleks. But they're all dead."

"Daleks?" Sam said. "You mentioned them before. You said that the Doctor fought them."

"He has, more times than even he can probably remember. They're the arch enemies of the Time Lords. They don't know any emotions except hate. They only want to exterminate everything in the universe, except themselves." Jack shuddered. "Trust me, being killed by a Dalek is not a pleasant way to die."

Liz hugged her arms across her chest. "Well, it can't be them, right? Because you said they were all dead."

"Right," Jack said. "The Doctor took care of that."

"Let's hope so," Hellboy said. "If they're as bad as you make them sound--"

"They are."

"--then I don't want to go anywhere near them. And you guys know I don't scare easily."

A thought occurred to Sam. He turned to Hellboy. "Have you met the Doctor? Any of you?"

"Not officially," Hellboy said. "I talked to him on the phone once. I was trying to deal with a water sprite outside of Dublin, and it was kicking my ass. I called Jack for some help, and he came out to assist me. Afterward, when we had killed it, we went to a pub. While Jack was in the john, his cell phone rang. It was this crazy guy who rambled on a mile a minute, something about reversing the polarity of something or another--it made no sense to me whatsoever. Anyway it became clear that he wasn't talking to me, he was talking to somebody else who was there with him, and the phone was in his pocket. He didn't have the keyguard on, and it dialed the last number he had called, which was Jack's."

"So you didn't actually talk to him," Liz said.

"No," Hellboy admitted.

"But you've got his number? We can call him?" Sam said, eagerly.

"Not exactly," Jack said, sounding annoyed. "In his excitement to try and call him back, Hellboy accidentally erased the Doctor's phone number. He hasn't ever tried to call me back, so I have no idea what it is."

"Is there someone else you can ask?" Sam asked. "I mean, it seems like he knows a lot of people on earth; somebody's got to have his phone number."

"Even if they do," Jack said, his voice sounding gentle. "I'd rather not. The Doctor doesn't live his life like other people, you see. Sometimes things happen to him out of order. We might call and he might have no idea who we are."

"You don't want to chance it? How do you know that the reason I meet him again isn't because you called him and asked him to come?"

"I don't know that," Jack said. "But I don't want to risk something going wrong. One thing different, one small change, could alter history. I'm not being paranoid, here. I've seen it happen, and it's not pretty." Jack's smile had disappeared. His eyes looked far off, as if he was remembering something he would long have liked to forget.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "I don't understand," he said.

"I know you don't," Jack said. "Believe me, I know how badly you want to see the Doctor again. So do I. He has that effect on people. But when it happens, it will happen for a reason, Sam. Trust me."

"I do trust you, Jack, but what about Dean and the--"

"I'm sorry, Sam," Jack said, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. "The answer is no."

Sam nodded in defeat, trying not to show Jack how upset he was. How could Jack understand what they were going through? How could he begin to know what it felt like to face the horror of losing his brother, forever? Sam knew that Jack was trying to help, but there was an irrational part of his brain that wanted nothing more than to lash out at the older man, to try and force him to understand where the Winchesters were coming from. He held back, trying to remain hopeful that somehow, someway, everything would work out.

The group broke up soon after that. Hellboy and Liz went back to their room to start packing for the trip. Abe and Jack decided to go try and do some more research on their assignment, using the B.P.R.D. library computers. Sam intended to go with them, anxious to check out the Bureau's hundreds of databases and endless books, but Dean caught his eye and motioned for Sam to accompany him back to their rooms.

"Okay," Dean said, as they entered his bedroom and closed the door. "You've done a great job distracting them."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Your little freak-out about the Doctor's phone? That was great. It really put them off the scent."

"What scent?" Sam asked. "You've lost me, Dean."

"The Spear, you dumbass. They have no idea that we were eyeing up the Spear of Destiny."

"Oh," Sam muttered. "Dean, I was serious about calling the Doctor. I wasn't trying to distract them."

"Of course you weren't trying, but it worked, all the same, didn't it? Okay. I called Bobby while you were talking to Jack. It took me a few minutes to explain what's going on, and a few more minutes to get him to believe me. But he's in."

"What do you mean, 'he's in?'" Sam asked.

"He's going to meet us in West Virginia. We're going to tell them that we can't work without him. He's like our special consultant or something. He's gathering all of the info he can find on the Spear of Destiny, and we're going to use that information to figure out how to steal it."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said, running a hand through his hair. "This is awfully risky. I mean, you heard all that shit Manning said about retcon. If we screw this up--"

"If we screw this up," Dean said. "It's not going to matter that they retcon us. We won't have any clue."

"And that doesn't scare you?"

"Of course it scares me! It scares the shit out of me. But I'm just saying that we have nothing to lose."

"They trust us, though, Dean. They like us. How can we be so dishonest? We're taking advantage of them," Sam said.

"I know. I feel bad about that too. But Sammy, can you see any other alternative? You were completely gung-ho about this last night," Dean said.

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Things have changed, though, Dean. You have to see that."

"I do see that." Dean flopped down into the big bed on his back, slowly letting the air out of his lungs. "Believe me, Sam, this makes me feel like the biggest asshole in the universe. But I've got to try, you know? I just have to."

It was the conviction in his eyes, the realization that yes, Dean was scared, and he did want to live, that finally convinced Sam that it was the right thing to do. Perhaps it was being around these people, so helpful and reassuring, people who knew what they did and accepted them for it, people who understood what it was like to live in darkness and combat it every day of their lives. Perhaps it was this that gave Dean hope, that made him realize that he had to fight this. Whatever the reason, Sam found himself filled with more optimism, more light, than he had felt for a very long time. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be all right.

It did not mean that Sam did not feel awful for taking advantage of Jack, Hellboy, and the others like this. Hopefully they would understand. He had a feeling that Jack might, and probably Hellboy, Abe, and Liz. He did not really care what Manning thought of him, but the bureaucratic jerk would make their lives miserable if he found out what they had planned. Still, the benefits far outweighed the risks. They had to do this, and they had to succeed. There was no other alternative. If they failed--well, Sam did not want to think about that. Perhaps retcon was not so scary after all. It was better to forget everything, all of it, than to imagine Dean suffering an eternity in Hell.

It was best not to think of that now. He should focus on the positive, on their new team and its assignment. Additionally, there was always the possibility that the Doctor would show up suddenly, out of nowhere, and somehow make their intentions to steal the Spear unnecessary. Sam would not depend on this, since, after all, the Doctor had not shown up once in the ten years since he had met the Time Lord. But there was always hope, and now they at least had a plan. Sam knew that he would sleep easy tonight, once again, in the big bed. Not even Dean's snoring, wafting through the open doors of their shared bathroom, could stop that.

---

Chapter Five

Dean still refused to board an airplane, so he and Sam retrieved the Impala from the B.P.R.D. garage and took off for West Virginia, early the next morning, after another smorgasbord breakfast. Jack, Hellboy, and the others left in the Bureau's private jet and made it to their destination in less than two hours. Sam had to admit he was a little annoyed at Dean for causing such an unnecessary delay, but short of knocking his brother out and dragging him on the plane, for which the consequences would be decidedly unpleasant, there was not much he could do.

Besides that, it gave them the opportunity to hook up with Bobby and talk frankly, without worrying about what Manning or other potentially dangerous prying ears might over hear. When they arrived in the backwater town of Ridley, the older hunter was already waiting for them, at the only bar in town, sitting by himself, nursing a beer.

Were it not for the state-of-the-art laptop and pile of old books placed on the table in front of him, Bobby Singer would have had no trouble blending in with the locals. He wore his standard uniform of faded flannel shirt under a hunting vest, jeans, and a dirty trucker's hat. His beard, though trimmed short, was a little unkempt. From the way he was rubbing at his neck as he bent over the dusty books, Sam could tell that he had allowed himself little to no sleep since Dean's discreet phone call from the B.P.R.D. headquarters.

"Well, it's about damn time," Bobby said, with asperity, slamming the massive volume in front of him closed, as Sam and Dean approached. "I could have walked here faster than you two drive."

"Hey," said Dean, with a frown. "You know I don't like pushing the Impala-"

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby replied, with a wave of his hand. "You know, it's a miracle you ever get laid at all. I think you'd marry that car, if you could."

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Sam cut him off before the car discussion went on for an hour. "What have you got for us, Bobby?" he asked, as he sat in the book across from the older man. Dean shrugged and scooted in beside him, apparently ready to get down to business.

"Well," Bobby said. "I did some research on the Spear of Destiny. It's not mentioned in the Bible. It actually appears in apocryphal texts, so nobody can really say if its powers are legit or not."

"Agent Manning told us that Hitler was interested in it," Sam said.

Bobby nodded. "According to some sources, he was absolutely obsessed with it. It's been documented that he had a fascination with the occult."

"According to what I was able to find out online, it was that fascination which led directly to the discovery of Hellboy," Sam said.

"So all that's true?" Bobby asked. "I mean, I've seen his name around, heard the stories-"

"He knew Dad," Dean said.

Bobby blinked in disbelief. "Really? He never mentioned it."

"Maybe he thought other hunters would judge him for associating with a demon-even if he is a good guy," Sam said. "That's the only explanation I can come up with."

Bobby nodded again. "I guess that's somethin' to think about later. Anyway," he said. "Back to the Spear. So Longinus pierced the side of Christ, and it was stained with his blood. The Spear was passed down through generations, from ruler to ruler. While somebody is in possession of it, they are invincible."

"Yeah, we know all that," Dean said. "What else?"

Bobby stared at Dean with disdain. "Okay, Mr. Know-It-All, what you apparently don't realize is that as soon as you give up the Spear-or lose it-you die. Immediately. Do not pass Go."

Dean chewed on his lip. "And?" he said.

"And what?" Bobby asked, his eyes narrowed. "You die, Dean."

Dean shrugged. "I'm going to die anyway. What's the difference?"

Sam sighed. "I have to agree, Bobby. Maybe, if he's got the Spear, he can at least...hold off Hell long enough for us to figure something out."

"That's nuts," Bobby said. "You guys know that."

"Yes," Dean said. "We do. But you'll help us?"

"You know I will," Bobby said, with a sigh. "God help me."

"Yeah, I hope so," Dean muttered.

"How are we going to steal it?" Sam asked. "The place is a fortress."

"Did you get the building plans for me?" Bobby asked.

Sam retrieved a pile of pages from his laptop bag. "It's a good thing Manning likes to show the place off. Otherwise I might have had a hard time getting these."

"Mm," said Bobby. He perused the pages thoughtfully for a moment, before speaking again. "All right. I'll look these over for awhile and try to come up with a plan of action. This definitely isn't going to be a walk in the park, boys."

"Trust me, we know," Dean said.

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted just then, when Sam's cell phone rang. It was Jack Harkness.

"Where are you two?" he asked. He sounded far away. "We were expecting you over an hour ago."

"Sorry, Jack," Sam said. He motioned to Bobby and Dean, who began to gather up Bobby's things. "We had to make a pit-stop."

"Well, hurry up," Jack said, sounding irritated. "There's definitely something going on here."

"We're on our way," Sam promised.

They loaded Bobby's stuff into his car so he could follow them across town. It took about half an hour to arrive at the old farm, which was at the northern end of the small town, and situated down a driveway that seemed like nothing more than a giant pothole. Dean swore mightily as the Impala swayed and bucked, mumbling about Torchwood paying for a new axle. Finally they made it in one piece, and emerged from the car to join Bobby near the front of the house.

"Well, well, well," Jack said, placing his hands on his hips as the trio approached the farmhouse. "If it isn't Mr. Singer himself."

"Sorry, Jack," Sam said. He shrugged sheepishly, his hands in his pockets. "I hope it's okay. We've been through so much together..."

"It's completely fine," Jack said. "Manning might not like it-"

"Douchebag," Dean muttered.

"-but if it comes to a scrape, I'd certainly rather have Bobby at my back than Tom."

Bobby extended his hand to Jack. "You must be Captain Harkness," he said. "But how do you know who I am?"

Jack completely ignored Bobby's question as they shook hands. "My reputation precedes me," he said. He looked over at Sam and Dean. "I hope you told him nice things, boys."

Sam grinned and shook his head as Jack led Bobby forward to introduce him to the rest of the group. Sam took the opportunity to survey their surroundings. The driveway flattened out into a large circle of gravel, upon which the B.P.R.D. had parked their vehicles. There was a large trailer with several antennae and satellites on the top, along with three or four SUVs. Sam saw Hellboy, who waved, with the others, standing in a group to the right of the house. There were several other Bureau lackeys milling about, most of them talking on cell phones or fiddling with strange equipment.

There was a copse of dead trees off to the right of the enormous white farmhouse, as unkempt as the dilapidated lawn. A vast cornfield surrounded the house on all sides-it seemed to stretch on for miles in every direction. As he stared at the numerous stalks, he could not help but notice how many of them seemed to be crushed or broken-almost trampled, really.

"There are several crop circles in the field," Abe said, suddenly right beside him. He pointed at the corn with one long, webbed finger. "They are mostly strange symmetrical shapes. Jack thinks they are some sort of alien writing."

"Dalek language?" Sam asked.

Jack was finished with Bobby's introduction. "It's hard to say," he replied. "They don't really have an alphabet, or even a consistent form of language. They're more concerned with destruction than communication."

"Could it be some sort of code?" Dean asked.

"Possibly. Abe, I'd like you to take a look at the aerial photos, as soon as we get them back. I'll have my people fax over some examples of known alien symbols, for comparison," Jack said. "Bobby, I think you'll be handy for that, too."

"How does he know so much about me?" Bobby muttered, to no one in particular.

Nobody answered him, because Hellboy called out to the group from the trailer on the other side of the driveway. "The pictures are here."

Abe and Bobby walked over to survey the photographs, with Jack on their heels. Liz, standing beside Hellboy, turned to the Winchesters.

"Come on," she said. "I'll show you the inside of the house."

Sam had to duck as they went through the crumbling doorway. "Looks like nobody's lived here for awhile," he said.

"The ghosts-or whatever-keep driving them out," Liz replied, as she stepped over a broken wooden chair.

Sam heard a beep behind him, and turned to see Dean holding his homemade electromagnetic field detector. "You getting anything?"

"Nothing," Dean replied.

A loud crash came from somewhere deeper within the house. Sam, Dean, and Liz pulled out their firearms automatically. Liz unclipped a radio from her belt. "Hey Red," she said. "I think we might need you."

Hellboy and Jack came crashing through the door, guns drawn. Hellboy was holding the most massive revolver Sam had ever seen. It looked like a cannon; Sam was not sure he would even be able to lift the thing if he tried.

"-think it's in the basement," Liz was saying. "It sounded like it came from down there.'

"We checked the entire house," Hellboy protested. His tail was flicking back and forth, which Sam took to be a sign of annoyance. "There was nothing here."

"Yes, well, we must have missed something," Jack said.

There was another loud bang. This time Sam could tell that it definitely came from downstairs. He exchanged glances with the others, and all five of them took off toward the sound without another word. Jack was in the lead, followed closely by Hellboy and Liz, with Sam and Dean in the rear.

The basement was as black as pitch. It took Jack a moment to light a match. Something ran through the darkened space in front of him, startling everyone. Jack fumbled for another match, but before he could find one, Hellboy produced a small flashlight he had found in his cavernous pockets. He switched it on and swept the length of the room, revealing nothing until he came to the enormous, rusty furnace in the corner. A figure was crouched behind it, breathing heavily.

"Come out, please, if you can understand me," Jack said. "We mean you no harm. We only wish to talk."

The figure stood up in full view of the flashlight beam. Sam heard Dean gasp. It was a creature-an alien. It was no more than four feet tall, and though it was dressed in some sort of armored suit, it was squat and brown, nearly hairless, looking for all the world like a burnt baked potato.

"Oh shit," Jack said, just before it lifted a massive gun and opened fire.

"What the hell?" Dean shouted.

"Take cover!" Jack yelled.

Everyone but Hellboy obeyed. Sam crouched behind an old wooden crate and watched, astonished, as the big red demon hefted his giant gun and fired at the creature. It shouted in surprise as Hellboy's lone bullet took out a chunk of the wall behind its head.

"Always trust in the Good Samaritan," Hellboy said. "Come on, buddy. Don't make me do that again. Do you know how expensive these rounds are?"

The alien let out a guttural cry as it stood back up and leveled off another laser shot, directly at Hellboy. Liz screamed, but Hellboy dropped and rolled to the side just before the beam struck the wall behind him, pulverizing chunks of brick.

"Now you're just pissing me off!" Hellboy said.

"Jack, what the hell is that thing?" Sam asked.

"It's a Sontaran," Jack called, from somewhere off to Sam's right. "They're a warrior race of clones, bred only for fighting and wars."

"Great, so we're fighting vegetable-shaped Storm Troopers," Dean said, sounding far away.

"'Earth people!" a strange new voice called, from across the room. It was low and gravelly, like the speaker was chewing on rocks. It could only be the Sontaran. If the creature's voice was any indication, it was a male.

"Surrender to me and I shall let you live," he said.

"Like hell-"Hellboy started.

Jack cut him off. "What are your terms?"

Sam saw the captain, in the meager light, standing up to his full height, in the center of the room, well away from the rest of them. There was no sign of Dean, but Sam thought that he too was likely hunched down behind some of the old crates and boxes in the basement. Liz was right behind Sam, straining to hear Jack's words.

"You will provide me with a ship and provisions. In exchange, I will permit you all to live, and I will leave this putrid planet," the alien said.

"How do we know you won't come back with a bunch of your pals and nuke the bejesus out of us?" Hellboy growled.

"He's got a point," Jack said. "The Sontarans are a proud race, a military people. They have few weaknesses."

"Sontarans have no weaknesses," the alien said, sounding proud.

"You have one, I think," Jack said. Sam could not see his face but it sounded like he was grinning. When he spoke again, his voice was raised slightly. "That vent thing, at the back of your neck-"

Without warning, Dean suddenly sprang up from among a pile of broken boxes to Jack's right, and fired at the Sontaran. At first Sam thought he was shooting wild, but then the bullet struck the wall behind the creature, breaking off another piece of brick, which flew forward and bounced off the back of his neck. The Sontaran gave a startled "oof!" and fell straight forward on his face. He did not move again.

"Holy shit," Hellboy muttered.

"Nice shooting, Dean," Jack said. "You've got a hell of a reflex."

Dean shrugged as the group came together around the Sontaran, though Sam could tell he was eating up the praise. "I knew when you raised your voice that you could see me moving closer. I just took a chance."

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, let's get this ugly bugger out of here before he wakes up."

Hellboy helped Jack lift the creature from the floor. They half-dragged, half-carried him up the rickety basement steps, through the house, and back outside. Manning was on his cell phone, near the trailer, but he turned around just as they were emerging from the farmhouse. His mouth dropped open.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone. He snapped it shut and stalked toward the group. Sam noticed that his forehead was sweating again.

"What the hell is that?" Manning demanded.

"An alien," Jack said, as he and Hellboy set the being down on the ground. "A Sontaran, to be exact."

"And what the hell is it doing here?"

"I'm not quite sure," Jack said. "As far as I was aware, we took care of all the ones left on Earth after that incident earlier this year. They were responsible for the ATMOS catastrophe."

"Really?" asked Sam. "I thought the government said it was a mechanical malfunction?"

"Of course they did," Jack said, with a snort. He kicked at the Sontaran's boot. "These little bastards did it all. They intended to choke the whole world and take it over as a breeding ground for more clones."

"Glad I never put one of those stupid things in the Impala," Dean muttered.

"So how did you stop them?" Sam asked.

"I didn't. The Doctor did, actually," Jack confessed. "UNIT and Torchwood just took care of the stragglers they left behind. Except for him, apparently."

"Why, though?" asked Liz. "Do you think they forgot him?"

"I think I can tell you," Abe called.

He and Bobby walked up to the others, looking grave. They both held sheets of paper in their hands, covered with drawings and scribbled notes.

"Your agents faxed over a number of extraterrestrial communications," Abe continued. "We were able to narrow it down fairly quickly, based on the formation of the shapes, their arrangement, numbers, and so on."

"So who did it?" Liz asked.

"He did," Bobby said, pointing at the unconscious Sontaran. "He gave his coordinates, and asked for assistance."

"Can you-can you tell if anybody answered him?" Sam asked. He was not sure why, but he was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

Even without their psychic connection, Sam would have known that Abe was uneasy too. It was all too evident in his voice. "We think," he said. "The phenomena inside the house gives it all away. He used the circles as his communication device. The lights, the sounds--all were side effects of his contact with a fleet off-world."

"We found his ship in the woods," Bobby said. "It was cloaked with an invisibility shield, but it was giving off an energy reading-"

"You used an EMF meter," Dean said.

"Yes," Bobby replied. "I literally stumbled into the thing. As soon as I touched it, the shield went down. I think the ship is dead, though."

Jack nodded. "He's been here for months. The power cells have got to be empty."

"So why haven't they come to get him?" Hellboy asked. "Is it possible that he, er, called, and didn't get through?"

"Oh, he got through all right," Jack said, his voice taking on a hollow tone.

Sam looked over at him, puzzled. Jack was pointing in the other direction, away from the group and the house, toward the forest. Sam heard Liz gasp just as he turned around to see what had Jack so concerned. Standing just at the edge of the woods were five more Sontarans, with laser guns at the ready.

"Humans! And...you," one of them said, pointing at Hellboy and Abe.

"Yeah, whaddya want, Spud?" Hellboy asked, as he casually swung his arm up to rest the Good Samaritan on his shoulder.

"You are involved in things that do not concern you," the Sontaran said. "Release our comrade and you will not be harmed."

"Why am I disinclined to believe what he says?" asked Abe.

Jack, too, was skeptical. He called out to the Sontarans, "What's he doing here? Did you lot forget him, or was he up to something else?"

"We do not have time for inane questions," the Sontaran leader said. "Send him over or we shall show no mercy."

"And now you're just so keen to get him back," Jack said, acting as if he had not heard the alien's threats. "I gotta wonder why. Does he know something important? Has he been, I don't know, spying?"

"Jack-"Abe warned.

Before he could finish the thought, the Sontaran leader raised his gun and fired off a blast, which hit Jack in the center of his chest. He went down in a heap, without a sound, the smell of his singed clothing and flesh seared into Sam's nostrils.

Liz got to him first. She threw herself on the ground and placed her hands on both sides of his neck "He's dead!" she cried, as Sam kneeled down beside her. "Oh my God."

"What do we do?" Manning asked.

Sam noticed that he was hiding behind Hellboy and felt anger begin to swell in his chest. He clung to the emotion, grateful for a distraction from the confusion and grief that threatened to overwhelm him over Jack's horrible, unexpected demise. He stood up and said, "Shouldn't you tell us?"

"Never mind that now," said Abe. He stooped to help Liz to her feet. "I think we should give the Sontarans what they want."

"The blue man is wise," the Sontaran leader said. "Give us what we desire and no more of your people will be killed."

Dean motioned to the group. Hellboy gestured to the dozen or so B.P.R.D. lackeys who stood nearby, milling about looking confused. Everyone stepped closer to form a closer circle, though Hellboy and Sam kept their eyes trained on the advancing Sontarans.

"I don't know," Dean said. "What if Jack was right? What if this guy knows something, some kind of big master plan, and we give him back to his buddies? They could be waiting up there to nuke us, like H.B. said earlier."

"I don't think so," Hellboy said. His voice was cold and angry. "From what Jack said, this sneakiness isn't their style. I think this guy did something wrong, and now he's in deep shit. They're here to arrest him or something."

"But what-"Sam started to ask.

"Enough talking!" the Sontaran shouted. "Give him up or you will all die!'

Suddenly someone groaned. Sam turned from the circle to see Jack Harkness sitting up from the ground, inspecting the gaping hole in his shirt. Manning turned stark white at the sight of him, while Liz gasped in disbelief and Hellboy broke into a startled grin. Sam felt his heart surge at the sight of the captain miraculously, wonderfully alive, though he could not begin to guess how he had survived such a shot.

"You're lucky you missed my coat, you bastards!" Jack shouted.

The Sontarans stopped in their tracks. "But-I-you were dead!" the leader stammered.

"I seem to have recovered," Jack said dryly, bearing his teeth at them. He put out an arm to Dean, who helped him to his feet. "It happens."

"Jack, you-"Dean began

"No time to explain now," Jack said. "Hellboy's right. This is bad, all of it. We need to get this fellow back to the Bureau and figure out what the hell's going on here. Sorry boys; your mate is coming with us."

The leader narrowed his eyes. "Fine. You've chosen death, then. Fire!"

The Sontarans began to shoot. Everyone scattered to hide behind the trailer and cars. Jack and Hellboy dragged the still-unconscious alien along with them. Sam and Dean provided sufficient cover fire for them to make it around the other side of Bobby's Camaro, which was taking a heavy beating.

"Any plans you all want to come up with would be greatly appreciated!" Bobby shouted, staring at his now-flat tires with disdain.

"I've got one," Liz said, in a low voice.

She stood to her full height, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The look in her eyes was feral, and Sam felt a stab of cold dread in his chest. She faced the Sontarans and extended her arms outward.

"Honey, that might not be such a-"Hellboy started.

"Do it, Liz!" Jack shouted. "Cover her!"

Sam continued to fire at the Sontarans, but his eyes were glued to Liz. She was taking deep breaths, squeezing her eyes shut in concentration. Finally she exhaled and threw her head back. Her eyes flew open to reveal dark flames, sparkling with the intensity of her power. She extended her arms forward and suddenly her entire body was engulfed in flames.

"Jesus," Dean muttered, from somewhere behind Sam.

Liz grunted, straining forward, and the fire rushed from her fingertips and out, in a massive ball of heat, toward the Sontarans. They screamed and scattered as the flames flew past them to the corn. It ignited with a whoosh, and within seconds the entire cornfield was on fire.

"My God," Manning muttered. His face looked like chalk.

"Where'd they go?" Sam asked, as everyone began to stand up and brush themselves off.

The answer to his question came immediately, as a spaceship burst up from the forest, rocketing into the air so quickly that Sam scarcely even saw what it looked like.

"Way to go, Liz," Dean said with a wide grin. "You scared them off in a hurry."

Bobby pulled out his cell phone to call the fire department. Liz was still aflame, but Hellboy walked up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Sam watched as she turned and smiled at H.B., her fire at last dimming as she turned and kissed him gently.

"I told you she was hot," Dean said, deadpan.

Sam made a face. "God, you are such a dork," he said.

Jack laughed as he gripped Sam's shoulder. "Come on, let's load this guy up and get out of here before the smoke gets any worse. Those clowns will be back to get him, and I want to be long gone before that happens."

He turned to walk away, only to have the barrel of the previously-unconscious Sontaran's laser blaster forced into his cheek.

"I think not, human," he said, with a snarl.

"You can shoot me all you want," Jack growled. "I'll just keep coming back."

"Then perhaps, I'll shoot him," the Sontaran said, whirling to train his gun on Abe.

"Try it, asshole," Liz said, her voice a low growl. Her flames had been diminishing, but now they flared up again, full force.

The Sontaran appeared unimpressed. "You will let me go back to my ship."

"Your ship's dead, stupid," Dean said.

The Sontaran smiled. "I was bluffing, you idiot. Do you think I would actually leave my transport open to others? Only I know the sequence to restart it. It is perfectly ready for flight, I assure you."

"Well, we're never gonna let you go," Dean said, taking a step forward.

"Really?" the Sontaran said, its voice dripping with sarcasm. "We'll see."

In a flash, he thrust out his stubby fingers and grabbed Dean by the shirt. Dean swore loudly as the cloth ripped, struggling against the alien's grasp. Before anyone could move, he had Dean's neck in a vice grip and was shoving the laser gun into his cheek.

"If any of you try to stop me, I'll shoot him."

"Okay," Jack said, soothingly, as he raised his arms. "Take it easy. You lead, and we'll follow you."

Sam, overcome with anger and concern for his brother, leveled his gun at the little alien soldier. "No way," he growled. "Let him go."

"Do what he says, Sammy," Dean choked.

"Uh-uh. Fuck that," Sam said.

"I agree," Bobby said, extending his own gun toward the Sontaran's head. His eyes were cold with anger.

"Don't do anything stupid," Hellboy said, gritting his teeth. "That's my job."

He flung himself forward at Dean and the Sontaran. Liz and Sam both screamed. Just as Hellboy got his stone hand on Dean's arm, the Sontaran reached down and hit a button on his belt. Dean, the Sontaran, and Hellboy all disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"What the hell?" Bobby cried.

"Let's go!" Jack said.

The entire group took off toward the forest, away from the burning cornfield. They barely made it to the edge before a silver sphere burst up from the trees and blasted into the sky with a loud crack, as it broke the sound barrier.

"Oh my God," Liz moaned. "Did he take them?"

They continued to run into the forest. Sam felt his heart pounding in his chest as his panic began to rise. Had his brother really been taken-abducted-by an alien? The very thought was ludicrous.

But that was exactly what had happened. They reached the spot where the ship had been, panting heavily from the run. There was a bare, blackened spot on the forest floor where the ship had been resting, but beyond that, there was nothing.

"They're gone," Liz whispered. The flames were gone from her eyes, replaced by confusion and dark despair. Sam recognized the look because he was feeling it, himself. He reached out to comfort her, stroking her back with his hand. Her clothing was still hot to the touch.

"We'll get them back," Jack said, through gritted, angry teeth.

"How?" Sam demanded. "We don't even know where they went."

"Everybody calm down," Manning said. "I'm sure we can figure this out."

Sam whirled around to face him. "Shut up, you useless son of a bitch. You're not helping."

Abe stepped around the astonished Manning to place a webbed palm on Sam's broad back. "He's right, Sam. We've got to think about this calmly and rationally. Getting angry is not going to help."

"That's easy for you to say, Abe," Sam snapped. "It's not your brother up there."

Abe cocked his head sideways. "Isn't it? Hellboy may not be my blood, but he is every bit as important to me as Dean is to you. Even more so to Liz. I know you're upset, but you must remember that you are no longer in this alone. We are all afraid, for ourselves and for somebody we love, but doing something rash right now is not going to help us get them back."

Sam bowed his head, chastised. "So what do we do?" he asked, his voice full of despair.

Jack chewed on his lip for a moment. Despite what Abe had said, the captain's voice was edged with cold, hard anger when he finally spoke. "We get to the nearest airport and get our asses on a plane to Cardiff."

"We're going to Torchwood?" Manning asked. "How is that going to help? Shouldn't we go back to the Bureau and regroup, try to formulate a plan of action?"

"We can regroup at the Hub," Jack said. He began to stalk back toward the vehicles. "If this is going to turn into something ugly, I want some heavy firepower at our backs. Besides," Jack stopped and turned to look at Sam apologetically. "There's somebody in London who can call the Doctor."

Sam's heart nearly stopped in astonishment, and hope. "I thought you said-"

"I did," Jack said. "I think, this time, he'll forgive us."

---

Chapter Six

Two hours later they were on a plane to Wales. The entire group was a flurry of activity. Jack spent almost the entire flight on his cell phone, alternately barking orders and speaking quietly, gently, to someone on the other end. Sam knew he was so horribly agitated and upset because he felt responsible for what had happened. There was no way he could have known that the Sontaran would pull that stunt, but Sam understood Jack's feelings, because he felt them himself.

For so many years Dean had been the provider, the protector. But ever since the demon had condemned him to Hell, Sam had begun to feel like it was his responsibility to care for his older brother. When it had first happened, Dean had been reckless and irresponsible, sleeping with dozens of girls and drinking himself into a nightly stupor. After a while he cleaned himself up, though he still had not really taken it seriously until they had seen the Spear of Destiny. Sam sighed at the thought of their plotting, which now seemed utterly insignificant. Dean was in space, for God's sake.

"What are you grinning at?" Liz asked, interrupting Sam's reverie.

She was holding up surprisingly well. Abe had informed Sam that she and Hellboy had only been together for a short time, but that they had been friends for years. Sam knew it must be agony for her to imagine her partner up there in the unknown, even if he was a seven-foot-tall demon who took crap from nobody.

"I'm just thinking of Dean," Sam told her. "He hates airplanes..."

"And now he's on a freaking spaceship," Liz said. She laughed. "Oh, dear."

"Hopefully he's puking all over the Sontaran," Sam said.

"Oh, gross," Liz said, but she laughed again.

Jack walked up then, and sat down in the seat across from them. He removed his greatcoat and placed it on the seat beside him. At some point he had changed his ruined shirt and freshened himself up, but Sam still thought he looked absolutely exhausted. He was far more concerned for the welfare of the others than for his own.

"You should get some rest, Jack," Sam said gently.

"I'm okay," Jack said, with a wave of his hand. "You two seem like you're doing all right, considering."

"I keep thinking that Red can take care of himself," Liz said. "If I didn't know that-"

"I know what you mean," Sam said. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

"On the other hand, he can also be incredibly stubborn and unconcerned for his own safety. I hope he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Dean is exactly the same," Sam told her. "And the two of them together-"

"They're going to be fine," Jack said. "I promise. I won't let anything happen to them."

His voice was weary, but the conviction in it was unmistakable. Sam felt a rush of gratitude for him. He had no idea who Jack was, not really, but he knew without a doubt that he was a good man.

"Any luck yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," Jack said, sighing. "I got ahold of Dr. Jones-Martha, the girl I was telling you about. She's been phoning him, but he hasn't answered yet. She left a message."

"What if he doesn't answer at all, Jack?" Sam asked. "What will we do then?"

"We'll figure something out. I made a promise, Sam, and I keep my promises."

Jack stood up. He reached down and squeezed Sam's shoulder, once, briefly, before returning to his post at the back of the plane, and to his phone.

"I'm glad he's here," Liz said. She sighed and slumped back in the seat, rubbing at her dark eyes with one weary hand.

"Me too," Sam admitted. "What do you know about him, Liz?"

"Not too much. He's just always sort of been there, you know? We've worked with him three or four times. It's always a bit of sarcasm, killing monsters, and then getting smashed drunk afterward. But he's completely devoted to his team, and I think he'd die for any of them, and anybody he cares about, for that matter."

"Speaking of dying for someone..." Sam said.

"Oh my God," said Liz. "I have no idea what happened. I felt his pulse. He was dead. I'm one hundred per cent sure of that."

"Well, he all but confessed to Dean and me that he's an alien," Sam said.

Liz shrugged. "Hellboy told me that Jack's dad used to work with Professor Broom once in a while. He said that Jack looks just like him."

"So maybe it wasn't his dad," Sam said. "Maybe it was Jack himself."

"Maybe so," Liz said. "I guess that means aliens age differently. I know I don't want to ask him. He doesn't seem to like talking about his past. Which I totally understand."

Sam did not miss the dark look in her eyes. Nor did he ask her to elaborate. He understood what she was saying, all too well.

Liz closed her eyes, sinking further down into the seat. "I'm going to at least try to get some sleep. I won't be any good to anyone if I'm not thinking clearly."

Sam stood up and stretched his long limbs, feeling the weariness as he had not for a very long time. He knew he would never be able to sleep. He got Liz a blanket, and left her alone to rest. He thought about Dean, up there in the spaceship, probably feeling sick and terrified out of his mind. It was enough to deter all thoughts of rest. That, and the anticipation of possibly meeting the Doctor again, after all these years, was enough to keep him wired, completely unable to even think of sleeping.

He did not blame Liz, or Bobby, who was passed out across four seats near the front of the plane, for trying to get some rest. Even Abe seemed to be dozing, closer to Jack. Manning was nowhere to be seen. Jack and Sam were the only ones who spent the entire flight awake.

When they finally landed in Wales, only one member of Jack's team was there to greet them. He was a dark-haired young man, close to Sam's own age, but he was dressed in an immaculately tailored dark suit, a waistcoat, and black shirt, with a dark tie that looked as if it never left his neck. He looked like a well-dressed undertaker.

"Ianto Jones," he said, as he extended a hand to Sam, who suddenly felt very underdressed in his old flannel shirt and frayed cargo pants.

"Jones," Jack said, grinning playfully. "How I've missed those lovely Welsh vowels."

Ianto smiled indulgently. Sam suspected that this was a familiar routine between Jack and the young Torchwood agent. "I don't know how we got along without you, sir," he said.

Ianto ushered everyone to a group of vehicles waiting nearby. As they walked away Sam noticed Jack place a hand, very briefly, on Ianto's shoulder. This time, when the young man turned to smile at the captain, it was gentle and soft. It was obvious to Sam that this must have been the person Jack was speaking so intimately to on the plane.

"Have you heard from Martha yet?" Jack asked Ianto.

"She's still on her way," Ianto said. "She got held up at UNIT. Apparently they got wind of your incident."

"Damn," Jack said. "They're too fast. I was hoping we'd be a few days ahead of them."

Ianto nodded. "Colonel Mace was apparently rather displeased. Martha said he used the words 'ignominious popinjay.'"

"Nice," Jack said, smiling broadly. He noticed Sam's raised eyebrows and said, "Hey, I've been called worse."

The group loaded into the SUVs, bound for the Torchwood Hub. As they were about to take off, a pretty young woman ran up to Sam's window and pounded on it. Jack, in the front seat, motioned to Ianto to slow down, and turned around to look at Sam and Bobby, puzzled.

"Sam! Sam Winchester!" the girl called, in a thick Irish accent.

"Don't open the window," Bobby warned.

Sam stared at him for a moment, before turning to look at the girl through the lightly tinted glass. She was about eighteen, with blonde hair and enormous green eyes. She was freckled and quite cute, wearing a white t-shirt and a khaki skirt, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"Yes?" Sam asked.

"Roll down the window, love; I'm not gonna bite you," she said.

"I'm good," Sam said. "What do you need?"

The girl's pout was utterly adorable. For one brief, guilty second, Sam was glad that Dean was not there. He pushed that thought away and waited for her answer.

"Fine, be a scaredy-cat," she said, as she chewed on her lip. She smiled, and something about it was chilling. "I just wanted to tell you that they know you're here. You might want to watch your back."

"What? Who knows I'm here? And who the hell are you?" Sam demanded.

She doubled over in laughter, clutching her sides as the tears flew down her face. Suddenly, her bizarre fit was over and she opened her eyes up to stare at him. They had gone completely black.

"Shit!" Bobby exclaimed.

He reached down for his bag, fumbling around to find a pouch of rock salt. The girl laughed again, but this time there was no mirth in it, just pure venom.

"You should have opened the window, baby," she said.

She hauled her hand back and punched the window, sending a spider web crack across the surface of the glass. She pulled her arm back to strike again, but a shot rang out from the second SUV. Sam whirled around to see Abe hanging out the window with a revolver in his webbed hands.

The blonde girl hissed and turned to go after the second car. As soon as she had turned, Bobby threw himself on top of Sam to hit the power window controls. The window flew down, and Bobby grunted, as he let the entire bag of salt fly at the demon. It struck her directly in her freckled face, and she erupted in screams, clutching at her eyes.

"Go, go!" Sam shouted.

Ianto floored it, and the other two SUVs followed close behind. Sam craned his neck back to see the girl writhing on the ground in agony. Just before they drove out of sight, a column of black smoke blasted out of the girl's mouth and into the open air, and she slumped over onto the tarmac.

"Christ," Bobby muttered, clutching at his chest, breathing hard.

Sam patted his shoulder absently, as he concentrated on trying to calm his own galloping heart. His brain was spinning, overcome with the bizarreness of the encounter and the adrenaline rush, welcome after the long, lethargic flight. He had known that the demons' influences were far-reaching, but how had they known he would be in Wales? Did they have something to do with the Sontarans? The thought was terrifying.

"Are you both okay?" Jack asked, sounding angry. He did not wait for either of them to answer before punching numbers into his cell phone and bellowing the same question at Abe.

"He deals with problems by shouting at them," Ianto informed them.

"I'd noticed," Sam replied.

Jack snapped his phone shut and whirled around to regard Sam with steel in his blue eyes. "From now on, you go nowhere by yourself. Is that clear?"

"Yeah. Jack, I know how to defend myself from demons," Sam said, annoyed.

"I know that," Jack said. "Please indulge me. This is very bad, Sam. Do you know what this means?"

"I know it's bad, Jack, but I don't understand-"

"How'd they find out you were here, so quickly?" Jack gave voice to the very thing that was twisting Sam's insides. "They're not omniscient. It means one thing: there's a spy in UNIT."

"What?" Ianto said. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Martha said on the phone that her superiors already knew about our incident before I even called her. The only way UNIT could have found out so quickly is if one of us contacted them. Even Manning is not that big a moron. Somebody at UNIT is in contact with the Sontarans."

"And the Sontarans told the demons," Sam said, slowly.

"Most definitely," Jack said.

"So who's the mole?" Bobby asked.

"We're going to find out precisely that," Jack said. "I'm going to phone Martha and tell her to turn around. Ianto, you call Gwen and tell her to meet us at the airport in half an hour."

"We're going back?" Sam asked.

"Yes. We've got to get to London, ASAP."

Jack flipped open his phone again, but before he could dial a number, it rang. He put it to his ear and said, "Hey, Martha. Yeah, we're fine. Change of plan: we're coming to you. Yeah, I know, I'm sorry."

Ianto's phone rang almost immediately. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, driving carefully as he talked. "Gwen? Meet as at the-no-hold on, slow down. What?"

Jack stopped his conversation with Martha, alerted to Ianto's raised voice. Nobody said anything for a moment as Ianto listened, his face filled with surprise.

"Okay, we're on our way," he said, at last, and hung up.

"Ianto," Jack said. "I told you-"

"That was Gwen," Ianto said, slowly. "She's still at the Hub. She says the Doctor just...appeared in your office."

"What?" Sam said.

Jack's face lit up immediately. "Okay, strike the change in plans," he said, chuckling into the phone. "See you at the Hub, Martha."

He snapped the phone shut and turned to Sam and Bobby. "Things are looking up already."

"I hope so," Sam said, staring out the window at the darkening sky. His stomach was churning with excitement. At last, after all these years, he was going to see the Doctor again. For the first time since Dean had disappeared, he felt hope bloom in his heart.

---

Chapter Seven

They approached the Hub through what Ianto called the "tourist entrance." Sam was surprised, when they entered the building, to see that it actually did contain brochures and postcards featuring famous sites and attractions around Wales. His surprise multiplied exponentially as they walked down the hidden passage into the Hub proper. The facility was cavernous. It was dark and murky, but there was a lived-in feel to the place. Sam found himself drooling over the extensive computer systems, and caught Bobby staring longingly in the direction of the library. He wanted to see their archives himself, as well as the so-called arsenal Jack had promised to show him and Dean. That afternoon in the hotel room seemed like so long ago.

A pretty dark-haired woman greeted them as they filed into the Hub, one by one. She smiled warmly, stepping forward to shake hands with everyone. Her eyes were hazel and large, giving her a wide-eyed, innocent look, but the set of her shoulders and her firm handshake led Sam to believe she was tougher than she looked.

"Gwen Cooper," she said. Her Welsh accent was even more pronounced than Ianto's. "You must be Sam. Come with me."

Sam smiled and fell into step behind her. Despite the butterflies in his stomach, it was hard not to notice how nicely Gwen filled out the black jeans she was wearing. If all of the women in the United Kingdom were this hot, Dean was going to be very upset that he missed the trip.

The thought was quickly knocked out of Sam's head as they walked further into the Hub. Up ahead, sitting on a dilapidated sofa, were a man and a woman. He strained forward, biting his lip, to try and catch a glimpse of the man, the man he had admired and wondered about, for nearly half his life.

It was not him. He stood up as Sam got closer, grinning broadly. He was about ten years older than Sam, and not quite as tall. He was so thin and his brown pin-striped suit was so form-fitting that he appeared taller than he really was. His brown hair, too, added at least an inch to his height-it was spiky and wild, as if he ruffled his fingers through it, rather than combing it. He stood with his hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his Converse-clad feet and chewing at his pouting bottom lip, allowing his companion to step forward first.

"Hello," the woman said, as the group approached. She had flaming red hair and a bright, lovely smile. She was dressed conservatively, but her purple top and jeans perfectly flattered her figure. "I'm Donna. You must be Sam."

Sam felt himself blushing. He could not say that he did not enjoy the sight of her blue eyes traveling up and down his fit body, but he was not used to being so blatantly ogled, not even by Jack. It happened to Dean a lot more than it did to him. Yes, his brother was definitely missing out.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling.

"'Ma'am?" Donna was horrified. "Do I look that old?"

"Oh no," Jack said. He stepped up beside Donna and kissed her cheek. "Quick, take it back."

"I'm sorry!" Sam said, appalled. "You're-you're gorgeous."

The others laughed. The thin man smiled even wider and said, "Don't scare him away, Donna. He's been through enough."

He kept smiling as he walked up to Sam, but his eyes were full of concern. His tone was wistful when he spoke again. "Sam Winchester. You got tall."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Sam asked.

"We met before. Once. When I was a very different man." He had stopped smiling, but he looked at Sam with unmistakable affection and kindness. Sam looked into his eyes again. They were large and brown, but there was a deepness to them, a sense of knowledge and age, that completely belied his youthful appearance. Sam had only seen eyes like that once before, so long ago.

"Doc...Doctor?" he stammered. "How did you-but-is it really you?"

"It's me, Sam," the Doctor said.

"I don't understand," Sam said.

"Time Lords don't age," he said, softly. "We regenerate. I am literally an entirely new man."

"Not entirely, I hope," Sam said, completely unembarrassed to realize that he was choking up.

"Welll," the Doctor said, drawing out the word. He grinned smugly, with a sideways shrug of his shoulders. "Not entirely."

"Should we leave you two alone for a minute?" Jack asked, dryly.

"No, no," Sam said, wiping at his eyes. "I'm sorry."

The Doctor reached up and gripped Sam's shoulder tightly. "Don't apologize! Aww, c'mere."

He encircled both of his long arms around Sam's broad shoulders and pulled the young man into a hug. Sam laughed as he returned the embrace.

"Blimey, you are huge," the Doctor said as he pulled back. "You must've had a hell of a growth spurt."

"Really, my office is right over there," Jack said, pointing. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me watch, though."

The others laughed. The Doctor rolled his eyes dramatically, but even he was amused.

Sam was oblivious to it all. "Doctor, do you know how much I wanted to see you again? How many times I wondered if that night even happened?"

"I'm sorry, Sam," the Doctor said. "I'm so sorry I couldn't help you. I hope you know I've always kept an eye on you."

"Jack told me," Sam said, quietly. "Look, I know I probably shouldn't ask about the future, but, well, Dean-"

"Oh, we're gonna get Dean back. That I promise you. As soon as everybody-all of you-goes and gets some sleep. You all look half-dead."

"That's not what I mean, Doctor," Sam said. "If you've been watching us, you know what's going on, what happened to Dean-"

"Sam," the Doctor said, squeezing his shoulder again. "Go get some sleep. Doctor's orders." He grinned. "We'll talk later."

As the group broke up, Sam reluctantly retired to the dilapidated couch he had passed earlier. He knew he was running on fumes, but he thought he would never get to sleep, since he was still too riled up by everything that had happened. He settled himself in, resting his arms behind his head to stare up at the ceiling. He was astonished when he suddenly woke up with a start, alerted by an unexpected, high-pitched cry. Sam looked around for a moment, disoriented, until he remembered where he was. He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and was shocked to see that it was after six a.m. He had slept nearly eight hours.

Sam sat up and stretched his long limbs, stiff from reclining in an uncomfortable position. The strange sound came again, followed by a muffled swear which he thought came from Ianto. He stood up, rubbing the crick out of his neck, and stepped gingerly over Liz, who was asleep in a pile of blankets on the floor. He passed Manning, who was conked out in an old recliner, and Gwen, sitting at her desk with her head cradled in her hands. There was no sign the others, but Sam thought he heard voices up ahead.

He came around the opposite corner of Jack's office to find Donna standing with her arms crossed over her chest, looking up at something in the rafters. She was chuckling softly, her eyes filled with mirth. He glanced behind her to see the Doctor sitting upright in an office chair. His eyes were closed, so Sam figured he must be asleep, despite the awkwardness of his position.

"What's so funny?" Sam whispered.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Donna asked. "I just got up myself, because Butler Boy up there can't keep his pet quiet."

"Oi," came a voice from somewhere up above. Ianto sounded quite irritated. "Myfanwy isn't my pet. She is a rift refugee."

Sam looked up to see the young Torchwood agent perched atop what could only be described as a nest. Ianto was wearing an apron and rubber gloves over his suit, and was holding a giant shovel in his hand. The squawk came again, louder this time. Ianto turned, frowning in annoyance, as a great pointed head lifted from the bed of straw behind him.

"I must be exhausted," Sam said, rubbing at his eyes. "Because it really looks like Ianto is scooping pterodactyl shit."

Donna laughed and clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. "I wondered the same thing. But no, it's a great ruddy dinosaur. Only Torchwood."

Ianto threw his apron and gloves into a garbage bag and began to descend a ladder on the wall behind the nest. The pterodactyl flapped her wings for a moment, turning around slowly in her nest. She apparently found a more comfortable position and her head went back down, out of sight.

Sam shrugged. "I guess I've seen stranger things."

Donna laughed again, causing the Doctor to stir behind them. Sam turned to see him blinking rapidly, looking around for a brief moment before his eyes came to rest on Sam and Donna. He smiled and stood up from the chair, yawning.

"We didn't mean to wake you," Sam said.

"Don't worry about it," the Doctor said, with a shrug. "Is everyone else asleep?"

"Mostly," Ianto said, as he climbed off the ladder. "Jack's in his bunk. Bobby was downstairs in the library, but he fell asleep at the table. Abe is in the tank."

"The tank?" Sam asked.

"Yes. We've got a large aquarium downstairs, which happened to be empty. He says it's not easy to sleep with that breathing apparatus he wears," Ianto replied. "Everyone else is out cold."

"Don't you sleep, Ianto?" Donna asked.

Ianto's shrug was miniscule. "Occasionally." He smiled briefly and walked toward the kitchenette, the garbage still in his hands.

"Should we start waking everyone up?" Sam asked.

"No, let them go a little while longer," the Doctor said. "I wish you would have."

Sam shrugged. "I'm fine, really. I feel better than I did earlier. I'm really ready to go, Doctor."

The Doctor gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sure you are. I meant what I said earlier. We'll get him back."

"I believe you," Sam said. "About what I was saying earlier..."

The Doctor sat back down in his chair, and motioned for Sam and Donna to grab chairs of their own. The Doctor sat with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to regard Sam seriously.

"I know what's going on, Sam," he said. "You understand that I don't exactly live my life in a straight line?"

"Yes," Sam said. "Jack told me."

The Doctor nodded. "I'm a Time Lord, Sam. That means that I've got the past, present, and future all inside my head. I can be at the creation of the Earth, the Bronze Age, World War Five, and the expansion of the sun-all at the same time. Hours, minutes, seconds-those are just measurements to you; they don't mean anything, except in an abstract way. I can feel each moment of time, caress each millisecond with my fingers. Time is a physical being, to me, a tangible state, with a consciousness of its own. It's alive. It's fluid, yes, but like anything with a mind of its own, it can be stubborn as hell."

"So you're saying you know what happens to Dean?" Sam said, sitting up straighter in his chair.

The Doctor sighed. "I'm not omniscient, despite what other people might tell you. I have the power to manipulate time, but it's in flux, Sam. I can hardly predict what's going to happen any more than you can predict the weather. There are some events which are fixed points that cannot be changed. I told you time is stubborn: that's what I meant."

"You're talking about destiny."

"Sort of," the Doctor said, pursing his lips. "I can change certain things-I could go back and ensure that Donna wears a green shirt today, instead of purple. I can be present at your birth. But I can't change things which are already established. I could go back and watch you being born, but I couldn't prevent it from happening."

"So, you're saying that what's happened to Dean is an established event," Sam said, speaking slowly to ensure that he fully understood. "No matter what schemes we could come up with, no matter how many times we try to change history, he always makes a deal to save my life."

"Yes. It's the outcome of that deal which you have the power to change."

"Then it's possible that we might figure out a way to save him from Hell."

The Doctor shrugged. "There's always a chance."

"Can you help us?" Sam asked. "Can you take Dean to another planet or something?"

The Doctor hesitated. "Well, yes, I could. But it wouldn't make any difference. Jack explained to you about dimensions?"

"Sort of," Sam said.

"Hell is known by many names. Dis, Hades, Tartarus-those are just a few of the human names. Most of the universe refers to Hell as the Void, a place of emptiness. Nothingness. The beings that come from there are devoid of all feelings, except darkness and hatred."

"The demons," Sam said.

"That's what you call them," the Doctor said. "They have many names."

Donna shivered. "Gives me the creeps, that does."

"What about the fire and brimstone, the torture and torment and all that?" Sam asked.

"The demons are capable of any number of vile acts," the Doctor said. "No one really knows for sure. I hardly want to debate metaphysics, but some people think that Hell is a state of mind within the Void."

"God, that's way too heavy," Sam said, exhaling slowly. "It's scary to think that even you don't know."

The Doctor smiled. "I'm glad I don't know. Anybody who knows everything about the universe, well, they'd be-"

"They'd be a god," Sam finished.

"Yes."

"And you have enough responsibilities, Space Man," Donna said, dryly.

The Doctor laughed briefly, but his eyes were serious again. "I'll help you in any way I can, Sam, but I can't make any promises."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sam said. "That's all I can ask for, I guess."

A bell sounded loudly.

"What the hell was that?" Donna asked.

"Doorbell," Ianto said, as he emerged from the kitchenette and ran past them.

Sam heard a groan. A moment later, Gwen Cooper walked over, rubbing the back of her head. "Morning, all," she said. "Is there coffee?"

"Just brewed some," Ianto called as he stepped over to a platform. He pressed some buttons. Suddenly he was ascending slowly toward a hole in the ceiling which seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Gwen saw the look on Sam's face. "That's our lift. It's invisible up on the Plass. It's right across from the Millennium Centre and no one even knows it's there. Jack's quite proud of it."

"He pilfered some TARDIS energy for that, didn't he?" the Doctor said. Despite his question, his voice sounded proud.

"That's what he said," Gwen replied.

A moment later, Ianto was on his way back down, accompanied by yet another beautiful woman. This one was short, with dark hair and skin like milk chocolate, dressed in a smart business suit and carrying a small valise. She laughed at something that Ianto said, and the smile went all the way to her lovely brown eyes. It was an infectious, genuine smile, and Sam found himself grinning with her.

"Uh-oh," Donna said. She elbowed the Doctor in the ribs and pointed at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Donna said, with a smirk.

The three of them stood up to greet the new visitor. Ianto followed closely behind the young woman, who was only a couple of years older than Sam, as they walked closer.

"Doctor," the woman said, still smiling.

"Martha," the Doctor said, stepping forward to wrap her in a bear hug. They held on to each other for a long moment. When they were finished, the Doctor turned back to Sam. "Sam Winchester, this is Dr. Martha Jones."

"Pleased to meet you, Sam," Martha said, extending a hand.

"He's very pleased," Donna said, smiling broadly.

Sam glared at her, as he shook Martha's hand, but she seemed not to notice anything. She gave Donna an enthusiastic hug while they exchanged pleasantries, before turning back to the Doctor. "I would have been here sooner," she said. "But I got held up by Colonel Mace. He's in a fit about all of this. You apparently got my message, though."

"Yes, I did," the Doctor said. "We happened to be close, so we came right here."

"Where's the TARDIS?" Martha asked.

"It's in Jack's office."

"You got it to fit in there?" asked Sam.

"The TARDIS goes anywhere," the Doctor said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Speaking of Jack," Ianto said. "I'm going to go wake him."

"Good idea," the Doctor said. "We better think about rousing the others, as well. We need to get to UNIT as quickly as possible."

Martha nodded. "I was already on my way, or else I would have just stayed there. Now we can all go back together."

"How long does it take to get there?" Sam asked.

"About five minutes," the Doctor said. "By TARDIS."

"You mean we all get to travel in it?" Sam suddenly felt excitement fill his stomach. He had imagined it once or twice as he was growing up, but he never actually thought he would ever get to take a trip in the time and space machine.

"Of course," the Doctor said. "No other way to travel. Especially not buses. Oi."

Donna groaned. "No way."

Sam smiled, aware that he was missing something, but not really wanting to pry. "I'll go and find Bobby," he offered.

Ten minutes later everybody was awake, and on their way to being sufficiently caffeinated, thanks to Ianto, who made the best cup of coffee Sam had ever tasted. The entire group gathered in front of Jack's office to begin preparing for the TARDIS trip.

"Before we go, let's make sure we're all loaded up, ammo-wise," Jack said. "I don't want to walk into a firefight unprepared."

"I've told you a million times, you can't fight the Sontarans," the Doctor said, with disdain.

"I can," said Jack. "And so can Liz. She's already proved that they aren't as big and bad as they think they are."

The Doctor frowned, but before he could say anything, Abe, his artificial gills comfortably refreshed, spoke up. "I don't like the idea of violence, either, Doctor, but sometimes it is unfortunately all too necessary. Still, I say we proceed with caution, and only use it as a last resort."

The Doctor was somewhat placated, although Sam could tell he was still not happy about the whole thing. "All right then, troops, let's mount up!" Donna rolled her eyes. The Doctor sniffed. "Let's er, go in the TARDIS."

Jack smiled and clapped him on the back. "She keeps you in line pretty well, doesn't she, Doctor?"

"Not quite as much as Ianto does you," the Doctor said, dryly.

Sam was quite amused to see Jack actually blush, and so were Gwen and Martha, who laughed out loud. "You can stay as long as you like, Doctor," said Gwen, with a broad grin.

"Settle down," Jack said, though his eyes were still amused. "In all seriousness, let me go first, when we leave the TARDIS. We don't know what we're walking into."

"I don't think we're walking into anything," Martha said. "Everything seemed pretty normal when I left. I still don't understand why everyone thinks something is so wrong at UNIT."

"Someone there is getting their information a little too quickly," Jack said. "You could be right, Martha. We could just be paranoid. I hope that's the case. But until we know otherwise, we're going to operate under the assumption that somebody at the Unified Intelligence Task Force is a spy."

Jack turned to Gwen and Ianto. "You two stay here and hold down the fort. Keep your cells on, just in case. As soon as we figure out what we're up against, we'll give you a call."

"I'd like to stay, too, if you don't mind," Bobby said, surprising Sam. "I'd, er, like to do some research on these Sontarans."

He met Sam's eyes so briefly that Sam was positive the others never even noticed. Sam nodded in agreement, positive that Bobby was going to spend the time alone in the library, investigating the Spear of Destiny. Bobby was a good field man, but his strength was in his research skills.

Jack said, "Sounds good. If you need anything, let Ianto know."

He did not suspect a thing. Sam was pleased that Bobby was still following their plans. He knew that his friend had brought the B.P.R.D. building plans in his luggage. If anyone could find a weakness in them, it was Bobby, who was as tenacious as a bulldog when the need arose. Sam knew that attribute was going to come in very handy. His conversation with the Doctor, though it had been a little disconcerting, had convinced him more than ever that now was not the time to stop in their quest to prevent Dean from going to Hell. They had a hard road ahead of them, so any information Bobby could acquire would be infinitely helpful.

---

Chapter Eight

Sam was delighted to discover, as he walked through the rickety wooden doors, that the TARDIS was every bit as strange and wonderful as he remembered. The inside scheme still reminded him of some sort of coral. The low electrical hum felt reassuringly familiar and welcoming. He felt a low pulsation, almost like a heartbeat. He considered the Doctor's statements about viewing time as a living being. It was not so hard to believe that the time machine itself was sentient, especially after he saw both Marth and Jack pat the wall affectionately as they entered.

Liz and Bobby had much the same reaction as Sam had, on his first visit. Even Abe, who usually accepted most things in stride, seemed a little overcome.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine. The psychic energy from the ship is so strong that it took me aback, at first."

"You mean that throbbing sensation?"

"Yes. She seems very happy," Abe said.

The Doctor overheard their conversation and walked over. "She is. The old girl gets a bit lonely, sometimes, with only me for company. She's glad to see so many people aboard."

"So...she...really is aware of us?" asked Sam.

"Oh yes. This is the loudest she's been for a long time. She's really singing to us."

"Is that why you pick up so many stragglers on your travels?" Donna asked, with a wry grin. Here I thought it was for my winning personality, but I'm really here to keep your ship company."

"Something like that," the Doctor said, as everyone laughed.

The Doctor positioned everyone around the console to help fly the ship. Sam was instructed to press a big green button and pull a lever exactly when the Doctor told him to. He was very pleased to end up next to Martha Jones.

"This is the smoothest the ride has ever been," Martha said, chuckling. "When he pilots it himself, we usually end up flailing about madly and crashing into things. Sometimes we end up at the wrong destination entirely-that's always fun. The Doctor swears the ship is to blame, but I think he's just an awful driver."

Sam laughed. "So you've traveled a lot with him?"

"A bit, yes." She smiled. "I've seen so many wonderful things. Shakespeare and New Earth, cat people and living suns."

"Wow," Sam said. "But you're back on Earth now?"

"I am," she said. "Not everything was great, Sam. Some...some bad things happened last year, to me...and my family. It was out of the Doctor's control, but it made me realize that I'm needed here."

She looked down briefly. Sam noticed the ring on her left hand, and felt an odd pang of regret that annoyed him. He knew that Martha was way out of his league, and that was not why they were here, anyway.

"But I'm still here for the Doctor if he needs me," she told him. "That will never change."

Sam followed her gaze over to the subject of their conversation, who was utterly beaming as he watched his companions help fly the TARDIS. Just seeing the look on the Doctor's face made Sam feel hopeful. He felt an odd sort of pride swell up in his chest that the Doctor, who had known so many important people and helped shape so many big events, should deem him worthy of his friendship.

Sam's thoughts were cut short as they arrived at UNIT headquarters, only a few moments after they had departed Torchwood. Sam felt strange as he stepped out of the TARDIS and onto concrete. The vibration was gone from inside his head, and he found himself oddly bereft at its absence. Abe, too, looked a little forlorn as he emerged from the ship.

"All right," Martha said. "I've got security clearance, so I'm going to call up to Colonel Mace and let him know we're here."

As she unclipped a cell phone from her belt, Sam turned to survey their surroundings. He had never been to London before, so he was thrilled to take it all in. He glanced up at the Tower of London, which housed UNIT's main headquarters deep beneath its stone foundations, awed at the sight of such an historical building. Hopefully after they rescued Dean and Hellboy, Bobby would have some time to see it, and to explore the city with them. Sam smiled as he imagined Bobby's inner historian drooling at the very thought.

"Okay," Martha said after a few moments. "We're to go over to the command truck and wait. The Colonel is on his way down." Her voice sounded oddly troubled.

"Is everything all right?" Donna asked, reaching out to touch Martha's arm.

"I think so. It's just a little strange. Colonel Mace seemed...upset."

Sam did not miss the minute glance that passed between Jack and the Doctor. "Everybody be on your toes," Jack said. "We're in the thick of it now."

They followed Martha to a large nearby trailer, which she explained was the mobile command center. The eight of them squeezed into a control room, which was abuzz with activity. There were ten people, all dressed in black uniforms and wearing red berets, stationed at various computer terminals, engrossed in their work. One of them looked up with a puzzled expression, but said nothing and went immediately back to his work.

Martha turned to the Doctor. "This is the same facility you and Donna visited before. We're on high alert, once again, because of this latest Sontaran incident."

"So you don't know how UNIT was alerted to it?" Sam asked.

"No," Martha replied, with a heavy sigh. "We got a code red late last night; that was all I knew until Jack phoned and asked me to contact the Doctor."

A blonde, balding UNIT officer came through the trailer door just then, and stalked toward Martha. Even before she introduced him, Sam knew it was Colonel Mace. He was dressed in a green uniform with several metals and insignias attached to his lapel. His bearing was quintessentially military: shoulders back, head held high, his stride a quick march. He was accompanied by a tough-looking woman in a dress uniform, complete with calf-length skirt and regulation boots. Unlike the colonel, she wore one of the red berets, which seemed to suit her, in a strange sort of way.

"Captain Erisa Magambo," she said, in a crisp, deep voice. Her feet snapped together as she fired off a salute.

"Oh, not that again," the Doctor said, with a groan.

"How do you know it wasn't for me?" Jack asked, with a sly grin.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Now, then, Colonel Mace." He thrust his hands into his pockets and paced a circle around the two UNIT officers. "I believe you know why we're here. There's no use dancing around the issue. Can you please tell us how you heard about our problem in the United States?"

"'Our problem'?" Colonel Mace repeated. "As far as I was aware, you weren't even there, Doctor."

The Doctor's face grew cold and hard. "Does that matter? I believe you owe these people an explanation."

"Shouldn't we be focusing on how to get their loved ones back?" Mace asked.

"Leave that to me," the Doctor said.

"Doctor, I certainly appreciate everything you have done for UNIT over the years-hell, for the entire world. But that doesn't give you the right to barge in here and start pointing the finger, accusing people."

"I'm not accusing. I'm merely searching for an explanation. Apparently, from what we've heard, you've been upset recently, and behaving differently."

Mace glared at Martha, who blushed. "Sir-"

"Quiet," Mace snapped.

Martha's eyes flashed with confusion and hurt, but she kept silent.

"If I may?" a reedy voice said, from the back of the group. It was Tom Manning. "I believe I know who it was."

"Jesus, Manning, if you knew all along, why didn't you say so?" Liz demanded. "Why are you keeping things back from us?"

Tom Manning stepped closer to the UNIT officers. Sam realized that he had not said much for quite some time. Sam suspected he was rather overwhelmed by the turn of events. He had essentially faded into the background as the trip progressed, seeming content to let Jack and the others take over. He had spent the entire TARDIS trip white as a sheet, clinging to the console as if it might buck him off. It did not seem like him at all-he was a pushy, bossy bastard, and the way he had just shut down seemed completely out of character. In fact, Sam realized that the last time Manning had really had anything to say had been after they had dragged the unconscious Sontaran out of the old house, right after he had hung up his cell phone.

"Oh my God," Sam said.

It dawned on the Doctor at exactly the same moment. He whirled around to face Manning, whose lips had twisted into a rictus smile, as his eyes went inky black.

"You stupid, silly apes," the thing that had been Manning said. "So oblivious to what is right in front of you. I don't know how you ever found the brains to crawl out of the ooze so long ago. You're all worthless."

"You son of a bitch," Liz said, in a quiet voice that scared Sam even more than Manning. He looked into her eyes, which were growing an alarming light in them.

The Manning-thing laughed. "You had it right all along, Jack. The Sontaran fleet arrived to arrest their comrade, but luckily you morons showed up to prevent it. There were so many wonderful things inside his head. So many lovely ways to wage war, to inflict suffering. He was beautiful."

"Where are they?" Sam growled. "What have you done to them?"

"They're dead, Sam, just as you soon will be."

It was suddenly very hot in the trailer. The UNIT soldiers had begun to look up from their computers, feeling the growing tension in the air, as well as the change in temperature. Liz was breathing hard, trying to control herself, but she was quickly losing her grip on her power.

"I'm going to make you all suffer so very, very much," the demon promised.

"I'd like to see you try, you bloody git," Donna snapped.

"Such cheek! You are amusing, dear girl, I must admit. Hold on to that for as long as you can, for it will soon be gone. Even if you survive what I plan to do to you, your time is nearly at an end."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The demon snarled at her. "You think you are going to travel with the Doctor forever, don't you? You poor, deluded thing. Soon you'll be back to your miserable, worthless life, and you won't even know the difference."

"Doctor, what is he saying?" Donna asked, with tears in her eyes.

"You're lying," the Doctor said, his voice edged with cold anger. "He's trying to muck with our heads."

"Prove it," the creature said.

"Okay, if you say so," the Doctor said, giving one of his noncommittal shrugs. He casually reached back into his pocket, and before anyone could react, he pulled out Bobby's bag of rock salt and pelted it right into Manning's face.

The demon screamed in agony and bent double. "Grab him!" Sam shouted.

Jack tackled him. Abe and Magambo pulled out their firearms and pointed them in his face. Mace had gone stark white with shock.

"I'm sorry to say that I thought it was you, Colonel Mace, who perpetuated this scheme," the Doctor said. "I am glad to say I was wrong."

"I think we should get out of this vehicle," Abe said, nodding over at Liz, who was squeezing her eyes shut and panting with effort.

The trailer was stifling. The UNIT grunts had all begun to remove their ties, and were whispering in confusion and fear. Sweat had broken out on Manning's bald head, and Sam realized that Abe was having trouble breathing in the hot air.

"Let's go," Donna said.

She and Martha cleared the way in front of them, so that Jack and Abe could drag Manning out the front door. The rest of the group followed close behind them, and Mace ordered the UNIT troops to join them outside, weapons at the ready.

The Manning-demon struggled and cursed, but Jack and Abe were too strong for it. Martha and Donna tried to take Liz aside, but she would have none of it.

"Where are they?" she demanded, through gritted teeth.

"You'll never find them," the demon said.

"Doctor, have you got any chalk in those giant pockets of yours?" asked Sam.

The Doctor fished around for a moment and came up with a broken nub of chalk. He handed it to Sam, who thanked him, and bent low to the concrete, where he began to draw a circle. He had to press lightly not to break the chalk, but he managed to draw all of the appropriate symbols needed for a proper Devil's Trap.

"Okay," he said when he was finished. "Throw him in there."

The demon hissed and howled, but Jack and Abe manhandled him into the circle before he was able to leave Manning's body. He stood in the center of the circle, glaring at them with hatred.

"I'm not telling you a fucking thing."

"Yes, you are," Liz growled, breaking through Donna's grip. "Or I'll send you straight back to Hell."

"No, Liz, you can't!" Sam cried. "Manning is still in there. If you fry him, when the demon leaves his body, he'll be dead."

She screamed in frustration. A lone flame burst from her back and dissipated in the air. Several of the UNIT soldier shouted in fear, but no one moved.

"Now then, tell us where they are," Sam said, in a cold voice.

The demon spat at him.

"Okay, fine." Sam reached into his inner jacket pocket and retrieved the flask he always kept there. Without moving his gaze from the demon's face, he untwisted the cap and splashed the holy water directly into his eyes.

He howled, but then he began to laugh.

Jack gritted his teeth and stepped forward. Taking care not to break the circle, he reached his arm over the chalk line and decked the demon in the face. He staggered and tried to step back, out of the circle, and screamed in pain again as the charms kept it stuck inside.

"You are all going to die," he hissed.

Sam pulled out his dad's journal, which never left his side, and opened it to the exorcism rituals.

"Sam, I think your pockets are as big as mine," the Doctor said.

"Not quite," Sam said.

He read a few words of the ritual, causing the demon to scream some more. The UNIT soldiers were muttering behind him, growing more panicked with each wail of the demon.

"Form ranks!" Colonel Mace shouted, angrily. "Keep your mouths shut."

"Thank you, Colonel," Sam said. He turned back to the demon. "That hurts, doesn't it?"

The demon spat at him again.

"Well, too bad. I'm going to keep going until you tell us where my brother is, you evil bastard."

He made it through two more lines of the ritual before the demon caved in. "Stop! Please! Oh, it hurts...I'll tell you anything. Please don't send me back to the Void."

"He's quite a spineless worm, when it comes down to it," Abe observed.

"They usually are," Sam said, dryly. "You're afraid to go face your boss, aren't you?"

"Oh please, oh please," the demon pleaded. "I will roast for an eternity in Hell!"

"Come out of him so I can roast you myself," Liz muttered.

Sam ignored her. "All right. If you tell us where Hellboy and Dean are, I promise we'll let you go."

"Why should I believe you?"

"What other choice do you have?" Martha asked.

The demon thought about it. He hesitated for an agonizing few moments before apparently coming to a decision. "They're in a warehouse in Southwark Street." He gave Sam the address. "Now please let me go."

"Thank you," Sam said. He let out a deep breath, and flipped the book back open.

"You promised!" the demon wailed.

"I lied," Sam said, and began to read the ritual again.

"Sam, wait!" Donna shouted. "How do you know it's telling the truth?"

"He wouldn't lie when he's trying to save his own skin," Jack said.

Sam finally reached the end of the exorcism. Manning screamed as a vast column of black smoke flew out of his mouth and far off, into the air. He vomited and fell over on the ground. Martha rushed forward, motioning to Magambo to help her.

"Get him some water!"

A UNIT grunt rushed to the command trailer and retrieved a bottle of water. Martha splashed some into Manning's face. He groaned. Magambo and Jack helped her ease him down onto the pavement.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Don't try to talk," Martha said. "Drink some of this."

"Is he all right?" the Doctor asked.

"I think he's dehydrated," Martha said. "We probably ought to get him checked out, just in case. We can take him into the Tower headquarters. We've got a field hospital there."

The Doctor nodded. "All right, you and Donna get him there. Liz, I don't suppose you can be convinced to go with them?"

"Now is not the time to be sexist, Doctor," Donna said.

"There's no way in Hell, or whatever it is, that I'm not going with you," Liz said.

"Right. Of course. Okay, let's formulate our plan."

In the end, Donna, Martha, and Colonel Mace ended up taking Manning to the nearest hospital while the others raced to the TARDIS to go rescue Dean and Hellboy. Mace sent Magambo and five UNIT troops. He elected not to go himself, as he had quite a few questions for Manning.

"He'll never get anything out of him," Sam said. "He won't remember a thing."

"That was awful," Liz said. "I can't imagine..."

"Trust me, you don't want to," Sam told her.

Two of the UNIT grunts helped Martha get Manning onto a stretcher. Colonel Mace radioed for an ambulance. Once Martha and Donna were situated in the back of the vehicle, the Doctor motioned for the others to get back into the TARDIS to leave for the warehouse.

They arrived at the address the demon had indicated in only a few moments. It was a shipping facility, which was apparently closed for the day. The place was entirely dark, and the doors were all locked. Sam grunted in frustration as he tried, without success, to jimmy the door.

"Dean!" Sam screamed, at the top of his lungs. "Are you here?"

Magambo gestured to Sam to step back. "We'll take the lead, just in case. Jenkins, come break this door down."

"Excuse me," the Doctor said quietly. "There's an easier way."

Sam and the UNIT captain stepped back so the Doctor could get to the door. He pulled a strange device out of his pocket and aimed it at the lock. It made a strange whirring noise, and popped open with a click.

"Sonic screwdriver. Never leave home without it." The Doctor beamed, spinning the device in the air with a flourish.

Liz stood on tiptoes to kiss the Doctor on the cheek. "You are so weird."

"After you," he said, with an extravagant bow.

Magambo motioned her troops forward. They went in first to ensure that no one was going to attack the group. After a moment, they declared it safe for everyone to enter.

Liz removed her gun from its holster and stepped through the door. The others followed close behind. "Do we need to be quiet?"

"I'm not sure," the Doctor said. "There could be other demons here."

"If there are, they already know we're here," Jack said. "So the hell with it. Dean!"

"Red! Red, are you here?" Liz cried.

For several long moments there was no answer. They advanced through the warehouse, slowly, with guns drawn. Magambo and the UNIT troops took the lead, advancing around each corner slowly. Magambo pronounced the place empty. "I don't think they're here."

"They are definitely here," Abe said. His eyes were closed. He had one hand extended forward, his long, webbed fingers splayed outward. "There has been violence in this place."

"Hellboy!" Liz shrieked.

Sam winced as that single flame flared up from her back again. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but cut himself off when an answering cry came from a nearby room.

"Go, go!" Magambo shouted.

A UNIT soldier kicked the door down and thrust his rifle into the doorway. "Don't move! Keep your...your hand where I can see it!"

Liz rushed forward, shouting Hellboy's name. "Get out of the way, you idiot!" she said to the soldier. She roughly pushed him aside and thrust her head through the door.

Sam was right behind her. The room was dark, so he fumbled around for a light switch. He finally located it and hastily flicked it on. Liz was in the corner, bent down next to Hellboy. He was chained to the wall by his leg, and was cradling his non-stone left arm, but other than that, he looked none the worse for wear.

"'Bout time you guys showed up," he croaked, in a hoarse voice. Liz threw her arms around his neck. "Oww, take it easy, honey."

Sam spun around, the panic rising in his chest as he spotted the body of the Sontaran, splayed out on the floor across from Hellboy, with a pool of blood around his head.

"Where's-"

Hellboy pointed to the opposite corner of the room with his good hand. Dean was prone on the floor, facing the wall, unmoving. He too, had a large chain cuffed to his leg. There was more blood around him, and one of his shoes had fallen off. Sam's heart dropped like a stone as he realized that his brother was dead.

---

Chapter Nine

Sam started walking slowly toward Dean. His legs felt like lead and his brain felt hollow and empty. He did not hear the Doctor call his name, nor did he realize he had fallen until he felt Abe's strong hands grasp him by the arm. He closed his eyes and shook his head in denial, like a little boy. Perhaps if he could not see it, it would not be true.

"Sam," the Doctor said.

It seemed like his voice was somehow inside Sam's head. He looked up, blinking in confusion, and saw the Doctor looking at him with concern in his big brown eyes.

Abe helped him stand up. "I'm fine," he said, trying to brush off the fish-man's arm.

Abe took a step backward, but kept close in case Sam fell again. They reached Dean and bent over his body. Sam reached out to touch his brother's shoulder, gingerly. His chest felt tight. He breathed deeply, trying to keep a grip on reality. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Sam still felt that quiet stillness in his mind, a calmly reassuring presence, and knew that Abe and the Doctor were both trying to steady him so he would not panic.

He used both hands to roll Dean's body away from the wall. The chain clinked loudly against the concrete floor. Dean's eyes were closed and his face was covered in bruises. His lip was split, and there was a gash on his forehead that looked nasty. Though he knew it was hopeless, Sam placed two fingers on the side of his brother's neck.

Dean's eyes suddenly flew open, startling Sam so badly that he fell backwards onto the concrete floor. Dean sucked in a deep breath and sat up, staring at his brother with confusion.

"Sam? What the hell?"

Sam choked back a sob. "Oh my God, Dean..." He sat up and crushed his brother into a hug.

"What? Oh, Jesus, my head hurts." Dean patted at Sam's back briefly before they released each other. He rubbed at his forehead, wincing as he touched his injury. "Where is that bastard? I'm gonna kill him."

"Dean, I thought you were dead," Sam said. "You looked..."

The Doctor stooped down and used the sonic screwdriver to free the shackle from Dean's leg. He walked across the room and did the same for Hellboy, who was having a makeshift splint placed around his broken arm by one of the UNIT soldiers. Abe and Sam helped Dean to his feet, and everyone gathered in the center of the room.

"What happened here?" Jack asked.

"Well," Hellboy said, grunting in pain as the soldier finished tying up his arm. "We got onto the spaceship, as you know, and Dean and I tried to overpower the potato-head. He put on a helmet and pressed some button that killed all the oxygen in the ship, which knocked us out. We woke up here, chained to the floor."

"The Sontaran had a demon inside him," Dean said. "He ranted and raved at us for awhile, and then another demon showed up and told him to go find you guys. The demon left the Sontaran's body, and he freaked out. I don't think he had any idea what was going on. He went crazy and started going on about how the Sontarans would have their revenge, and the other demon just grabbed him by the head and forced a gun to that vent at his neck, and shot him dead."

"So how did you two get hurt?" Magambo asked.

Hellboy snorted. "I rushed at the guy, because he was standing close to where I was chained up. He wasn't really that big, but he slammed me into the ground and broke my arm. It must have been some powerful demon."

"Yeah, and the douchebag just walked right up and decked me as he walked out of the room, and apparently just left us here. I don't know how long I was out."

"A while," Hellboy said. "I yelled at you but you didn't answer. I was getting scared." Liz touched his arm reassuringly.

The Doctor was nodding. "I thought perhaps something like this happened, after what Manning, er, that other one said."

"What about Manning?" asked Hellboy.

Liz winced. "He kind of...got possessed. He told us you guys were dead."

"Oh, crap," Hellboy said, frowning.

"I exorcised the demon, though," Sam said. "He's at the hospital now with Martha and Donna."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"We'll take you to meet them right now," Captain Magambo said. "I think you need to go have that gash on your head looked at."

"No, I'm good," Dean said, but even as he spoke he swayed unsteadily, and would have fallen if Sam had not caught him. "Okay, maybe not."

The soldiers finished their survey of the building, which they declared clear. Everyone headed back to the TARDIS to return to the UNIT base. Sam felt a thrill once again as they flew across the city, but Hellboy and Dean looked green. He supposed that their previous ride in a spaceship was enough to last a lifetime.

They met up with Martha, Donna, and Colonel Mace in Manning's room. The B.P.R.D. agent was sound asleep, but his color had returned and he appeared to be doing fine. Martha's diagnosis of dehydration had been correct, and luckily, he had not been injured further. She also determined that Dean did not have a concussion, though he did need to be stitched up, and Hellboy's arm was definitely broken. Martha sent the big red demon downstairs to the emergency room to get it set, and began to suture Dean's forehead wound herself.

"Is there something in the water in this place?" Dean asked Sam. "My God, she's hot."

"She can also hear you," Martha said, with a smirk.

Dean shrugged. "I only speak the truth, sweetheart." He smiled at her, the one that usually got girls to go home with him. He winced immediately, pressing his fingers to his split lip. Martha merely chuckled and went back to her stitches. Dean stared at her in confusion, which caused Sam to have a very hard time concealing his smile.

When everything was finished, they got into the TARDIS to go back to Torchwood. The UNIT doctors wanted Manning to stay overnight for observation, so they made plans to pick him up the next day. Colonel Mace was still concerned about the Sontarans, who would likely be returning again to find out what had become of their comrade, so he and Magambo promised Jack they would be in touch.

The Doctor set the TARDIS down inside Jack's office once again, where Gwen and Ianto welcomed them. Bobby rushed upstairs upon hearing that Dean was okay, and surprised the Winchesters by pulling both brothers into a bear hug. He did not speak for several moments, but when he did, his voice was hoarse. "Thank God."

"Do we have to keep doing these chick flick moments?" Dean moaned, but Sam thought his brother's eyes had gone moist.

Ianto went out to get them all pizza and drinks. Sam was surprised to realize that he was starving. He could not remember the last time he had eaten. Luckily Ianto had bought enough food for an army, so everyone dove in as if they had not eaten in years. After that they took turns taking showers. Thankfully there was plenty of hot water. Sam stood under the water for a long time, allowing the steam to soothe his aching muscles.

When he stepped out, he discovered that most of the others had gone off to sleep. He wandered through the Hub in a t-shirt and pajama pants, rubbing a towel through his unruly brown hair. Liz and Hellboy were sharing the sofa, while Martha and Donna had arranged blankets on the floor. Gwen had gone home to her husband, and Sam thought that the Doctor had gone into the TARDIS, because he was nowhere to be found. He assumed that Ianto and Jack had gone to bed, also.

He found Dean and Bobby in the library, hunched over a pile of old books. They looked up at his entrance. "Hey," Dean said. "We were just going over the plan."

"The plan?" Sam asked. "I'm surprised you still want to do it, after everything you've gone through."

"Hell yes I still want to do it. Haven't you thought about why this all happened, Sam? Those demons were after us."

"That doesn't make sense, Dean. Why didn't they just kill you and Hellboy when they had the chance?"

"Because they want us for something. Look, we know there are at least four demons involved in this." Dean ticked them off on his fingers. "The one who possessed the Sontaran, the one who took Manning, and the one who clocked H.B. and me at the warehouse, plus Bobby told me you guys saw one at the airport. What's their scheme? Why would they do this?"

"We think the demons set up the house in West Virginia to lure you boys there," Bobby said. "Somehow they found out about your recruitment and set up this scenario to pull you down there. That's where they got Manning. I think the kidnapping was just a fluke that wound up being a major stroke of luck. They didn't kill Dean because they want him, and they've been trying to get at Hellboy for years."

"They won't let your renege on your deal, so they're just going to torture you until they take you to Hell. Is that it?" Sam asked, angrily.

"Something like that," Dean said. "So, I'm going to get them before they get me. Once I have the Spear, they can't touch me."

"Yeah, but don't you remember the part about how losing it kills you?"

Dean shrugged. "So? I just have to make sure I don't lose it. Hey, you were all for this before. What happened?"

"Well, the Doctor's here-"

"This is something I have to do on my own. He can't help us."

"How do you know that?" Sam demanded.

"Did you ask him if leaving the planet would keep them from getting me?"

Sam frowned. "Yes. He said it wouldn't. But that doesn't mean-"

"I've got to do this myself, Sammy," Dean said. There was a new determination in his green eyes, that despite Sam's apprehension about this whole thing, was very reassuring, considering how Dean had been feeling about it a week ago. "I'm going to get the Spear, and I'm going to force them to let me out of the deal. If they don't do that, I'm just going to gank as many of the bastards as I possibly can. Are you going to help me?"

"Of course I'm going to help you," Sam said, sighing.

He sat down at the table with Bobby and Dean to go over the B.P.R.D. building plans and formulate their plan of action. After an hour or so, he decided to go up to the kitchen to get some more pizza. He put two pieces on a plate and placed it into the microwave, and began to look around for a can of soda. He was rummaging in the refrigerator when he heard a sound behind him. He looked up to see the Doctor standing at the sink with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hi, Doctor. Did you eat?"

"Yes," the Doctor replied. He was looking at Sam with a very serious expression, and his voice was quiet, almost afraid.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

The Doctor rubbed at the back of his thin neck. "I know you're both scared, but you and your brother are getting into some very dangerous territory."

"What? Oh. You overheard us in the library. Well, I mean, we've got to try something."

"Of course you do." The Doctor stepped closer to Sam and put an arm on his shoulder. "You both need to be careful, especially Dean. You're getting into something you don't fully understand, and you need to know what might happen."

"So the Spear really does have power?"

"Yes, it does. I've seen it in action, and the results were...terrifying." The look on the Doctor's face was grave.

"I am apprehensive about this, Doctor, but we need something to fight the demons. What we have been doing has obviously not been working."

The Doctor was silent for a moment, chewing at his lip. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and quiet, edged with concern and even fear. "Sam, there's a famous saying that goes, 'Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster.' If Dean takes that Spear, it will make him into a monster."

"That's Nietzsche, right?" Sam asked. "Anyway, I know it's dangerous, but I don't understand. You fight monsters all the time. You're not one."

The Doctor smiled sadly. "There are countless races who would not agree with you."

"I'll keep an eye on him, Doctor. I can't let him do this alone."

"I know, and that's what frightens me. Do you know what the rest of that quote is?"

"No," Sam said.

"'And if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.' I've been gazing into that abyss for many, many years."

The Doctor looked sad just then, but even more than that, he looked old. The weight of all his years of traveling, of fighting the dark forces of the universe, was present in his eyes. Sam felt sick inside, suddenly, that the Doctor might be disappointed in him.

"Are you going to try and stop us?" he asked, quietly.

"You said it yourself, Sam: I fight monsters. Just keep that in mind. " The Doctor patted Sam's shoulder one more time, and walked out of the kitchen.

Sam abandoned his pizza, having lost his appetite. He went back downstairs to the library, where he found Bobby asleep in a chair. Dean was still staring at the books, but his eyes looked glassy and far away.

"I think you better get some sleep," Sam said. "You've been through a lot."

Dean stood up and stretched. "Yeah, I'm gonna hit it. Are Martha and Donna still on the floor?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason. I might just snuggle up next to them, that's all." His grin was smug. "What, are you afraid I'm going to butt in on your action?"

"My action?"

"Yeah. Don't lie and tell me you haven't got the hots for Martha."

Sam rolled his eyes, though he did not deny it. "Martha's engaged, and Donna...well, I think she could kick your ass."

"You know, I think she could," Dean said, sounding as if he might actually enjoy that.

Dean walked upstairs. Sam spent another few minutes looking over the plans, until his eyes began to glaze over. He was exhausted, and felt like he had not slept for a year. He left Bobby there in his chair and went upstairs to find a place to sleep, hoping that his rambling thoughts would quiet enough to allow him to rest.

---

Chapter Ten

Sam slipped into a surprisingly restful sleep and got up very late the next day. By the time he awoke, everyone was up and hanging around the compound. They had even gone to pick up Manning already. The B.P.R.D. agent looked tired and a bit pale but otherwise seemed all right. He was sitting at the table in the kitchenette with Liz and Hellboy when Sam approached.

"Sam. Come here, son."

Sam sat down at the table, which was piled high with bagels and fruit. It appeared that Torchwood, or at least Ianto, knew how to take care of guests every bit as well as the Bureau did. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thanks to you," Manning said. "Really, Sam. Thank you." His voice was quiet and sincere. "I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with-"

Hellboy snorted.

"-but I was awake for a little while, while it...while it was in me. I just want you to know, you performed very admirably. You'd make a good agent. I am proud, and privileged, to work with you and your brother." He reached across the table to Sam.

Sam shook his hand and smiled. He could feel himself blushing, but he definitely appreciated the sentiment, and was glad to see that Manning was an all right guy, after all.

Dean came into the kitchen. "Well, everybody, are we about ready to go? I'm sorry to cut the visiting short, but I'm kind of anxious to get home after everything and, well, I've still got some things I need to figure out."

"You just want to make sure nobody stole your car," Hellboy said, dryly.

Even Dean laughed. "There's that, too."

The Americans all went to pack up their things. Sam had only brought a duffel bag, so it did not take long. Dean had even less. The B.P.R.D. agents did not take very long either, so they were on their way fairly quickly, less than an hour after Sam had awakened.

Before they left, it was time for goodbyes. "Thank you for everything, Jack," Manning said. He walked around and shook all of the Torchwood agents' hands.

"I'll come back over with you. I have some things I need to wrap up at the Bureau," Jack said. "I'll just take a plane back."

"Thanks for everything," Sam said, as he shook hands with Ianto.

Ianto shrugged. "It was my pleasure."

"Come back anytime," Gwen said. She hugged both Sam and Dean, and all of the B.P.R.D. members, including Manning, who blushed.

"They'd better," Jack said.

They loaded into the TARDIS again. Their first stop was UNIT, to drop Martha off. Everyone exchanged hugs and pleasantries with her, and promises to keep in touch. Sam found himself turning red again when Martha gave him a big hug. She was so much shorter that he had to stoop down in order to embrace her.

"Thank you, Sam," she said. "And good luck." She stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, and he thought his face would catch fire.

"Aww, where's mine?" Dean asked, with a mischievous grin.

"I'll give you a hug," Donna offered. "C'mere, Pretty Boy."

Dean accepted Donna's hug enthusiastically. "Okay, maybe we don't have to go home just yet..." She smacked him playfully on the arm.

"Good luck to you too, Martha," Sam said, gesturing at her engagement ring. "If you ever need us for anything..."

"I'll give you a call," she promised, with a laugh.

It took a little longer for the TARDIS to travel back to the United States, but they were still home in a half hour or so. They materialized in Tom Manning's office. Sam found himself glad to be there. Despite his apprehension about Dean's plans for the place, it felt good to be back on familiar soil again. He was a little disappointed that they had not been able to enjoy more of the UK, but they had more important things to do, right now.

"I suppose Donna and I had best be off, too," the Doctor said.

"Thank you, Doctor, for everything. Please don't disappear for ten years this time," Sam said.

The Doctor laughed. He reached out to shake hands with Sam, and ended up pulling him into another embrace.

"Man, I've never seen somebody who likes to hug people so much," Dean observed.

Donna whacked him again. "You're just jealous."

"Only that he gets to spend so much time with you, honey."

"You know, it would be a lot easier for you blokes to keep in touch with us if you had a number you could use to call us," Donna suggested.

Dean pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "That's a good idea; why don't you give me yours?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. Sam had to look away to keep from laughing. Liz and Hellboy also looked amused, and even Abe hid his mouth behind his hand.

"Take care, Sam," the Doctor said. There was a distinctly warning look in his eyes.

"You too. I'm sure that demon was just screwing with you and Donna when it said those things."

The Doctor nodded, but he looked unconvinced. He smiled his broad, toothy grin again, and continued with his goodbyes. A few moments later, he and Donna boarded the TARDIS again and took off, with that familiar vworp of the ancient engines.

Dean headed almost immediately for the garage. He was relieved to see that someone had brought the Impala back from West Virginia in once piece. They had even washed and waxed it for him. The agency had also brought back Bobby's Mustang, and had fixed all the bullet holes from the firefight.

There was not much to do after that. Jack disappeared with Manning into his office to write up the massive report they owed from their recent adventures. Hellboy and Liz went to their room to take care of Hellboy's numerous cats, thankful that the little beasts had not destroyed the place while everyone was gone. Abe retreated to his tank to rest his tired gills, exhausted from wearing his breathing apparatus for so many days.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby retired to Dean's room for a strategy session. They decided to go ahead and attempt their theft that very night. Bobby was anxious to get home, and Sam thought that if they were going to do it, they might as well get it over with as soon as possible. As much as he wanted to help his brother, the Doctor's words echoed into his mind again and again: "It will make him into a monster." He simply had no idea what was going to happen, and that terrified him. Sam had always been a strategic planner, a trait which had come in quite handy when he had been at Stanford, but now it was largely a detriment, since his life was usually so chaotic. He knew there was no way he was going to get any rest, so he did not even try. He left Bobby and Dean to their plotting and took a long walk around the Bureau, losing himself in his tumultuous thoughts.

The time they had agreed upon came all too quickly. Sam went back to Dean's room with growing apprehension. His stomach was rumbling nervously and he had begun to sweat. Bobby was pale and kept chewing on his fingernails. Dean seemed cool as ice, utterly unaffected by what they were about to do, but Sam could see fear in his eyes as they sneaked downstairs to the archives.

They had badges that allowed them access to any part of the building, so the door was not going to be a problem. The glass casing that housed the Spear, however, would be an issue. If they smashed it, a blaring alarm would go off and instantly alert the entire Bureau. Luckily for them Bobby was a master lock-picker, and had brought a massive kit full of tools. There was a camera trained on the object that could not be turned off unless they stole into the security center, which was occupied twenty-four hours a day. They were just going to have to steal it and make a break for it, and hope that they could make it to the Impala before they were caught. Bobby had used the building plans to calculate a very precise escape route through the numerous hallways of the B.P.R.D.

It was a risky plan, to say the least. They would almost certainly be stopped. Sam's head was spinning and he was desperately nervous, unable to bear even thinking about the looks of disappointment that would surface on the faces of Hellboy, Jack, and the others when they discovered what the Winchesters had done. Still, he had to do it. He had committed himself to helping his brother, and nothing, not even the forces of Hell itself, would stop him from trying to save Dean. He would die for him, if he had to, and it was this thought that allowed him to steel himself to their task.

They packed up all of their things to take with them, so they would not have to go back to their rooms on the way out. It was difficult going through the corridors of the Bureau lugging around big duffel bags and suitcases, but they tried to be as quiet as possible. Sam was certain that the security guards would see them on the cameras and apprehend them before they even made it downstairs to the archives room, but no one tried to stop them. The entire building was quiet and still. It was well after midnight, and as far as they knew everyone had gone to bed. If everything went smoothly, the only problem would be getting out of the garage, which also had a twenty-four hour guard. Dean thought they could probably smooth-talk him enough to let them out in the middle of the night, but if not, he told Sam that he was willing to take the necessary steps to force the man to let them out. Sam did not like the sound of that, but he had no choice but to go along with his brother's plans.

The archives room was dark, illuminated only by the display lights in the glass cases. Dean had brought a flashlight along, which he clicked on as they entered the room. The Spear of Destiny was near the center of the room, past a homunculus enclosed in glass, a Fiji mermaid, and a dusty old bottle of Amontillado. Sam's breath caught on sight of the Spear. It was not that it was particularly awe-inspiring; it was a rusty, broken-off old hunk of metal and wood, less than ten inches in length. There was just a feeling about the thing, a strange sense of power that hung in the air around it, that made Sam's chest feel tight. The blood on it was a flaking brown streak, almost unnoticeable.

"Let's do this," Dean said, his voice determined.

Bobby took his lock picking kit out of his bag and bent to work. Dean retrieved the large pot he had taken from his room, intending to quickly shove it in the Spear's case exactly as they lifted it, hopefully giving them a few more precious minutes before their indiscretion was uncovered.

"What's taking so long?" Dean demanded, after nearly Bobby had been messing with the lock for about five minutes.

"Give me a minute," Bobby said, sounding irritated. "This is a precise science, Dean. Not just any idjit can bust open a museum case."

Sam shifted his feet nervously as Bobby gritted his teeth and turned the pick in the lock, moving slowly and deliberately. It was another fifteen minutes of agonizing waiting before they finally heard a loud click. Bobby opened the display case door, beaming in triumph. He picked up the ceramic pot.

"Okay, Dean, grab that sucker as fast as you can and I'll shove this in its place. Sam, make sure you don't touch the Spear."

"I know that," Sam snapped.

Dean tensed himself to grab the object. Before he could move, light flooded the room and all three of them jumped. Bobby dropped the jar, shattering it into hundreds of pieces.

"Shit," Dean said.

Sam heard a noise behind them, and turned to see Jack, the Doctor, and Donna standing in the corner of the room, in front of the TARDIS.

"Oh, boys," Jack said, shaking his head.

"I was hoping you would talk them out of it somehow," the Doctor said.

Dean whirled on Sam. "You told them?"

"No, I swear. They knew. I didn't want to do this, Dean, not after everything we went through this week. I only said I'd help you because you're my brother, and that's what brothers do."

"Then how the hell did they find out?"

"The Hub has closed circuit TV, Dean," Jack said. "Nobody ever has a private conversation at Torchwood, I'm not sorry to say."

"Dean, why don't you come away from there?" Donna asked, in a soothing voice. "We can go somewhere and talk about this."

She sounded perfectly reasonable, but Dean flatly said, "No."

"Please, Dean. Let them help us. There has to be another answer," Sam said.

"I should have known you'd flake out on me. You're always overanalyzing everything, Sam, and you change your mind more than I change my socks. Well, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of taking care of everybody else. I want to take care of myself for a change."

The Doctor stepped closer. "Dean, please hear us out. You have no idea what you're getting into."

"Yes I do," Dean snapped. "I'm going to be invincible. No one will be able to touch me. I could walk straight into Hell and destroy every last stinking demon, and not one of them could stop me. I could kick Lucifer's own ass and end it all. I could rule Hell if I wanted to!"

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

"That might be true," the Doctor said, slowly. The fear was plainly evident in his voice. "Think about it, Dean. You save people. You kill evil creatures. If you heard of someone else doing this, wouldn't you hunt them?"

"Shut up!" Dean said. He was growing more and more hysterical. "You, of all people, should understand. Sometimes you have to become what you hate the most, in order to stop the evil from taking over. You want to call me a monster? You go ahead, you bastard! What gives you the right to play God? You're a murderer! You killed your own planet! Your own family!"

"I do understand," the Doctor said, in a low, tense voice. His eyes were full of pain and remorse, as well as fear. "I have to face what I've done for the rest of my life. I have to live with those deaths on my conscience forever. Do you think doing that was easy? I killed my family, my own children, not to save myself, but to save the entire universe. Can you kill your brother? Because that's what's going to happen, Dean. You won't be able to control it. The power will overtake you and you'll strike us all down. You'll destroy Sam, and it won't even mean anything. You're doing this to save your own skin, and you've deluded yourself into thinking there's some kind of nobility to this whole thing. Well, there isn't. Maybe you'll stop the demons, but you'll kill us all in the process-everyone who loves and cares about you. What will you do then?"

"That won't happen," Dean said, but he began to sound uncertain for the first time since they had entered the room. "I'll be careful."

"Dean, I think you should listen to them," Bobby said, his face grave. "Think about what your father would think of this. John would never-"

"Don't you talk about my father!" Dean screamed. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and his bruised lip had split open again, leaving a trail of blood down his chin. "He wouldn't want me to just give up! He wouldn't want me to lie down and die like a coward, like a dog. He would want me to fight to the death, to never give up!"

Donna had begun to cry and Sam felt himself growing perilously close to doing so as well. "He wouldn't want you to kill yourself," she said. "He wouldn't want you to hurt other people. I lost my dad last year, too, Dean. I understand how you feel; I really do. I know you feel like he's disappointed in you, but I know he's not. I just know it. You're a good man. Don't do this!"

Sam could take no more. He took his gun from its shoulder holster, and pointed it in his brother's face. "That's enough, Dean. I can't let you do this."

"Leave me alone, Sam. Either shoot me, or get the fuck out of my way."

Sam did not have to, because Jack did it for him. Without any sort of noise or warning, he pulled his revolver from his coat and shot Dean in the shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "This has got to st-"

Dean roared, gripping his bleeding shoulder, and launched himself at the Spear of Destiny. He grabbed it and pulled it out of its case, cutting himself on the blade. An alarm blared, just as Sam had feared. As soon as Dean touched the holy object, his shoulder wound, along with the new cut and the bruises on his face, vanished instantly. The bullet from Jack's gun fell out of his shoulder to the floor.

"Oh, God, Dean," Sam moaned.

Bobby reached out to touch Dean's arm. Dean pushed him away, which sent him flying into the air until he crashed into the marble floor with a sickening crack, and skidded across the room to land against another display case.

Donna screamed and ran to Bobby's side. "His leg is broken!"

"I'm okay," Bobby said, through gritted teeth.

"You see what you've done?" Jack said. "What you're capable of?"

"That-that was an accident," Dean stammered. He let his hand fall to his side, but held on to the Spear in a death-grip. "You'll see. I'm going to go out and-"

He did not hear Hellboy creeping up behind him. The demon hit Dean in the back of the head with his big stone hand, and he fell to the floor.

"Sorry I'm late to the party. You could let a guy know when you're getting together."

Liz and Abe ran into the room, accompanied by several armed B.P.R.D. agents. Liz gasped at the sight of Dean, lying prone on the floor.

"We're sorry, H.B.," said Jack. "We were hoping we could talk some sense into him."

Dean sprang back up to his feet, startling them all. His eyes had gone completely black, so much like a demon's that Sam cried out. Dean spun around, snarling again, and grabbed Sam by the throat, lifting him into the air. Sam gagged and struggled in his brother's grip, but could not get loose.

"Dean! Look at yourself! For God's sake, look what you've done!" Liz cried.

Dean turned and caught a glimpse of his reflection in a glass display case. He screamed in terror and dropped Sam to the floor, where he grabbed at his throat and coughed violently. Abe stooped to help him to his feet.

Dean held his face in his hands and moaned. "Oh my God! This-this wasn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to help people. I'm going to kill the demons. I can't...I don't..."

He collapsed in a heap, still holding onto the Spear. The Doctor walked up and kneeled beside him. Dean allowed the Time Lord to wrap him in his arms, and began to sob into his chest. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."

Sam kneeled beside them, placing his hands on his brother's back. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "What do we do?"

"Help me up," Bobby said to Donna. She stooped and let him loop an arm around her shoulders, grunting with the effort of picking him up. Jack ran to help support his other side, and he hopped on one foot between them to get closer to Dean.

"Some of the literature says that if he gives it up willingly, he won't die," Bobby said. "But it wasn't consistent; I only saw it maybe three times."

"Three times means it has some basis in truth," Abe said.

"I don't care," Dean said, lifting his head from the Doctor's chest. His eyes were still black. "I can't take this. I don't care if I die. My head...I feel like I could tear this whole place down. I feel so powerful. I'm scared."

"Dean..." Sam rasped.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry I did that to you, and I put you through all of this."

"It's because of me that you're going to Hell," Sam said. "This is all my fault."

"No it isn't," the Doctor said. He did not let go of Dean, but he reached his hand out to touch Sam. "You two love each other, and the demons have preyed on that. They've done all this to pit you against each other-everything, from your father dying to them kidnapping Dean, all of it. Don't you see, Dean? You don't need the Spear of Destiny. They're scared to death of you and Sam without it."

With his free hand, Dean sat up to touch Sam's face. "I do love you, Sammy. I'm gonna let go of it now. I'd rather die like this, with all of you with me, anyway. Damn, ultimate chick flick moment."

"Dude, you love it," Sam said. He stifled a sob. "Next thing you'll be scarfing ice cream and watching Reese Witherspoon movies."

"Hell can't be much worse than that," Dean said, closing his eyes.

Sam squeezed his brother's hand. "I love you too, Dean. Do what you need to do."

Dean took a deep breath. He grunted with effort, and managed to unwrap his fingers from around the broken-off shaft of the Spear. After another minute he allowed it to fall out of his hands and onto the ground. Jack stepped in and kicked it out of the way, and they all held their breath, waiting to see what would happen.

For a moment everything was still and silent, and then Dean made an abrupt choking sound. He fell forward, out of the Doctor's arms, and began to shake and tremble. His eyes had lost the inky blackness, but now they were half-lidded and unseeing. His head struck the ground as the seizure grew more violent, and Sam scrambled to protect him from the marble floor.

"Hold on to his shoulders!" the Doctor shouted.

Sam managed to grab Dean and hold him down. Jack held on to his legs while the Doctor kneeled to place both of his hands on either side of Dean's skull. He closed his eyes and leaned his head down silently. Almost immediately Dean stopped thrashing around and lay still, breathing slowly.

"What did you do?" Donna asked.

"I made him go to sleep," the Doctor said. "He'll be all right now, I think. He should be awake in a few minutes. I think we ought to get him to the infirmary."

Without a word, Hellboy kneeled down to pick Dean up, ignoring his own broken arm, and carried him as if he were a baby. Sam, the Doctor, Liz, Jack, and Donna followed quickly behind. A few minutes later, two agents came into the room with a stretcher to take Bobby to the sickbay as well. Abe had another agent go and get him a pair of heavy barbecue tongs from the kitchen, and used them to pick up the Spear of Destiny. He walked over to a nearby wastebasket and threw it inside.

"Get this thing out of my sight," he said, thrusting it at Tom Manning, who had come running, alerted by the commotion, clad in his pajamas and looking very confused. Abe walked out of the room, leaving Manning to sort out the mess.

Bobby's leg was, indeed, broken, as were two of his ribs. He was asleep, across the room from Dean, after being pumped full of pain killers by a Bureau doctor. Sam knew he was damned lucky that Dean had not hurt either of them worse, but he did not feel angry. He only felt fear and concern for his brother. Sam was terrified that Dean was going to wake up and be overwhelmed with shame and remorse. Dean did everything big, including his emotions. Sam knew that his brother would never forgive himself for what he had done, for what he had put them all through.

He turned to Jack, who stood beside Dean's bed in the infirmary, looking grave. "I know what you're going to ask me, Sam. Are you sure about this?"

"What's going on?" Donna asked. "I don't understand."

Sam turned to look at her sympathetically. "He needs to forget. I'm afraid that this will undo him, and he needs to be strong. He has to be, because we've got a battle coming up that neither of us know how to fight."

"So you want to retcon him," Liz said. "How could you live with knowing everything that happened, having to deal with all of that, while Dean has no idea?"

Sam swallowed. His throat was still raw. "I guess I'd have to do it, too."

"You can't!" Donna cried. "To lose your memories like that-I can't think of anything more awful!"

"I know," Sam said. "But I think it's what I have to do."

The Doctor nodded sympathetically. "Whatever you decide to do, Sam, we'll support you."

"Thank you, Doctor. Thanks to all of you. I think-I think I've learned a lot from this. We're not alone. I know that now." He looked at Hellboy, who smiled lightly, before turning back to the Doctor. "And I've learned that there are no absolutes. We make our own destiny, and Dean is the only one who can change his."

The Doctor smiled. "That sounds just brilliant to me."

"I think we better let our patient rest. I'm sure Sam needs to sleep, too," Abe said.

"Yes," the Doctor said. "Donna, I think it's time for us to go, for real this time."

Donna paused to hug Sam before she walked out the door. "I don't like this, Sam. But you do what you think is best for you and Dean. You call if you need anything, do you hear?"

"You, too, Donna. I still think that demon was wrong when he said that something bad was going to happen to you."

"Of course he was. Bloody liar. The Doctor and me, we're gonna travel the stars forever. She grinned and hugged him again. "Be good-both of you. God, I sound like my granddad."

Sam laughed quietly as she walked out of the room. He turned to Hellboy and offered his hand.

"Goodnight, kid," Hellboy said. "Take care of your bro, okay? The doctor left some painkillers on the nightstand there, if he wakes up and needs something."

"Will do," Sam said, chuckling.

"Bye, Sam," Liz said. She embraced him briefly, and they walked out of the room.

Abe patted Sam's shoulder affectionately before pointing at his own scaly forehead. "I can feel your turmoil, Sam. This is a big decision, but I know you will do what is best for Dean, and for yourself. Good luck, my friend."

"Thanks, Abe. I'm very glad to have met you. I want you to know that."

Abe smiled and left Sam alone with the sleeping Dean, Jack, and the Doctor. Jack held out three white pills in his palm. "There's one for Bobby, too. Think long and hard about this, Sam. It can't be reversed."

Sam took the pills and put them in his pocket. "Thank you, Jack. Believe me, I'm not going to take this lightly."

Jack clapped him on the back and walked out of the room, apparently satisfied with his answer.

"Well, I'm off," the Doctor said. "Even if you do it, I want you to know, I'll still be looking out for you, just like I promised. You're a good kid, and don't let anybody tell you otherwise. No matter what you decide to do, have a great life, Sam Winchester. Be fantastic. Fantastic-I do love that word."

He shook Sam's hand a final time and left the room, leaving him alone with the sleeping Bobby and Dean. He sat in a nearby chair and sighed, closing his eyes. He was startled a moment later, when Dean woke up and looked around.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Sam said back.

"I guess I'm still alive. Am I okay?"

"I don't know, Dean. Are you?"

Dean swallowed and rubbed at his temples. "I could use something for my head. I feel like I have a jackhammer in my skull."

"They gave me something to give you for the pain. Let me get it, okay?"

"All right. Hey, Sam?"

"Yes?" Sam asked.

"Thank you. I don't know if I ever say that to you."

"It's okay, Dean. Here, take this; it'll make you feel better."

Sam handed Dean a single white pill and a glass of water and smiled.

---

Epilogue

Sam sat in the passenger's seat of the Impala, reading Dr. Faustus with a flashlight and waiting for Dean to finish up with his booty call. It was his second one this week, with yet another bimbo he had picked up at the local dive bar. Sam chuckled and shook his head. He might as well let Dean have his fun, he thought. At least it would keep his mind off the fact that he was going to Hell in a few months, even if only for a little while.

His cell phone rang. It was Bobby, calling from his home, where he was laid up with a broken leg. "Hey Sam."

"Hey Bobby.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Oh, same old same old," Sam said.

"You buried in that book again? Sam, you wanna break Dean free of that demon deal, you ain't gonna find the answer in no book."

Sam sighed. "Then where, Bobby?"

"Kid, I wish I knew. You boys better pack it up. I think I finally found something."

Sam hung up after Bobby gave him the details. He reluctantly got out of the car and went into the house to get Dean, only to end up catching him in flagrante delicto. That was a part of his brother he had never wanted to see, and after he finally got Dean out of there and on the road, he threatened to gouge his eyeballs out, much to Dean's amusement.

Dean thanked him for allowing him a night of enjoyment, though he was skeptical when Sam told him it was all right. "I was expecting at least a weary sigh."

"No, you deserve to have a little fun," Sam said, quietly.

"I am in violent agreement with you there," Dean said, grinning as he drove. "So what's Bobby got for us?"

"A strange cloud or swarm outside of Lincoln, Nebraska."

"It's weird, man," Dean said. "The night the Devil's Gate opened, some kind of weirdo storm clouds were sighted over how many cities?"

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen? That's like some weird Apocalypse Now shit. It's been a few days, but we've got bupkis. What are the demons waiting for? It's driving me crazy. I tell you, if it's gonna be war, I wish it would just start already."

"I know, man," Sam said. "But be careful what you wish for."

"Yeah, yeah. Any word from your friend, the Doctor?"

"No, not yet. Although I can't help but think that he's out there, somewhere, watching over us."

"I think so, too, Sammy," Dean said. "I think so, too."

The End