In Another Place (SuperWhoLock Big Bang) Part 2
Fic Masterpost
Part 1
Rose and John had wandered around to the back of the farmhouse, leaving Sherlock and the Doctor in the shabby living room to pass the time together. The Doctor sank deeper into the filthy couch with each passing second. For a man who once controlled the very fabric of time, waiting was something of an unwelcome nuisance.
"Bored," the Doctor announced.
"I truly sympathize," Sherlock muttered as he fiddled with a cell phone, flipping it into the air and tossing it between his hands.
The Doctor squinted at it as it flew. "That's not the same phone you had before," he said.
"It's Winchester's," Sherlock explained. "It fell out of his pocket as he left."
"No, it didn't," said the Doctor. "I would have noticed."
Sherlock grinned. "Very well. If you want me to be precise, I nicked it."
"Well done, then," said the Doctor. "Trying to deduce more about him?"
"Oh, I already deduced most of what I needed to know about him from his car and his clothing," said Sherlock, giving the phone a final flip before setting it on a three-legged table. "I stole the phone mostly just to annoy him."
They sat in silence a while longer before the Doctor huffed a sigh and said, "I should go after Rose."
"Why?" Sherlock asked. "She seemed perfectly happy to go off and gossip with John."
"Because she's cross with me," said the Doctor. "I should go… I dunno. Make it right."
"How do you propose to do that?"
"Good point," said the Doctor, flopping over on the couch and hanging his feet over the back so that his head was pointed down. "I suppose I should start with figuring out why she's angry."
Sherlock pulled out his own phone and fiddled with it while he spoke. "I thought that much was obvious. She's figured out that you don't quite measure up to the original version, and she's becoming disillusioned."
Anyone else might have socked Sherlock in the nose. The Doctor just sighed. "But then, how do I win her back over?"
Sherlock's head flinched backwards so violently that several extra chins formed beneath the first. "You're asking me for relationship advice?" he said dubiously. "I would tell you that you're asking the wrong person, but that's something of an understatement."
The Doctor chose to ignore Sherlock in favor of rambling. "Well, I suppose I know the problem. We thought it would work because, well, we're perfect for each other. She's Rose. And I'm part me, part my ninth incarnation, and part Donna. We ought to get along splendidly. But I'm also something else, something neither of us really thought about, and that's stuck."
"On Earth, you mean," said Sherlock, the squint of his eyes belying the fact that he was actually having trouble keeping up with the Doctor's train of thought.
"Yes, on Earth," the Doctor went on. "It ruins everything. It makes me angry, and that's not who Rose fell in love with." He sighed despondently. "I honestly thought I'd be happy here, but when I remember what I used be able to do, what I used to be! To go from dancing through space-time and being practically immortal to… this…" He gestured at his body, still draped upside down on the couch. "How can I make a human understand? It's as if you were living your life quite happily, and suddenly you find out that you've only got a month to live. And you're going to be stuck in a breadbox the whole time."
Sherlock clearly would have preferred to have been having any other conversation than this one, but he gamely said, "Perhaps Rose feels the same way."
"Oh, I know how Rose feels," said the Doctor, who had managed to work himself into a fierce sulk. "She feels like someone who thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with a man who could take her anywhere in time and space, only to find out that he has one month to live and is stuck in a breadbox."
Sherlock stared until the Doctor rolled his eyes and added, "Figuratively."
"Once again," said Sherlock, "I'm a detective, not a relationship counselor. If you want romantic advice then you should ask John."
"Oh, so he's the romantic one in the relationship, is he?" said the Doctor.
"What relationship is that?" asked Sherlock, genuinely curious.
"I thought…" said the Doctor. "You two are kind of… you know."
Sherlock apparently knew well enough, because instead of continuing in confusion he requested, "Cite your evidence."
The Doctor smirked, his mood somewhat repaired. "Oh, I don't need to be a genius detective to figure that out."
"Your skills of deduction need work," said Sherlock. "I have no interest in carrying on a sexual relationship with anyone. Not even John."
The Doctor shrugged. "What does sex have to do with anything?"
Sherlock steepled his fingers and was silent as he digested that observation.
-----
John was glad to get a moment alone with Rose. He would have preferred to get Sherlock alone, if only to demand a few dozen explanations for the things that had happened since they had faced down Mycroft back in London, but as fond as he was of Sherlock the man was his own brand of exhausting. With Rose, he could take a deep breath and try to sort things out on his own.
"How are you holding up, John?" said Rose, looking at him with a sympathetic-but-amused smile. She was sitting on the steps up to the back porch.
John was pacing back and forth in front of her, passing in and out of the light of the rising sun. Unlike Sherlock's manic strides, John's pacing was slow and deliberate, each step measured. Rose's question made him lose his rhythm, but he didn't care. It was nice to have someone normal enough to notice that he felt like he was losing his mind.
"It's…" he said. "Well, it's a lot to take in all at once."
"You're not wrong," she replied. "Aliens. Other dimensions. Time travel. And now even angels."
John laughed helplessly. "It sounds ridiculous when you say it all at once. I didn't know about any of it before yesterday."
"You're taking it quite well."
"I am, aren't I?" John had been comparing his reaction to the rest of the group, but now that he took into account the fact that everyone else had started with at least some basic knowledge about the supernatural elements at play, he decided to give himself credit for holding together as well as he had. He found that his urge to pace had waned. He sat next to Rose on the steps. "I suppose that's down to Sherlock," he said. "Following him around, I see the strangest things every day. I've almost gotten used to taking it all in stride. Because he always knows what he's doing - or, God help me, at least he acts like it. I don't know. It's just something about him that makes the extraordinary seem possible, or even like it's to be expected. If anyone else had told me that aliens exist, I'd have said they were daft. He tells me, and I'm following him to Torchwood within the hour. And then to America. And then to… oh, who the hell knows? Probably the ends of the Earth."
John caught Rose staring at him with a giant, beaming smile on her face. He rested his head on one hand with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"
"You're making perfect sense," said Rose, her fond smile only growing. "Believe me when I tell you I know exactly what you mean."
John twitched an eye at her as he caught her meaning. "He's not my boyfriend," he repeated himself.
"Why the hell not?" Rose replied.
Just then, the door behind them slammed open. Sherlock stood in the doorframe, waving a cell phone. John would have liked to answer Rose, but he couldn't stop himself from noticing, "That's not your phone."
"What?" Sherlock chirped. "Oh. No, it's not. Sam Winchester called back. Let's go!"
"Is he still with Jack?" Rose asked, leaping to her feet. "Are they back in the States?"
Sherlock turned and swept back into the house without a backwards glance, expecting John and Rose to follow him. They did. As he walked, Sherlock said, "Yes and yes. They're three hours away. Two and a half, if you let the Doctor drive again. We should leave immediately. The race is on!"
"Why are we racing?" John asked, jumping forward to walk beside Sherlock. As they passed through the main room, the Doctor joined them.
"Not each other," said Sherlock. "Our shadowy enemy. Whatever it was that caused our dear Captain Jack to crash, it isn't likely to be sitting around twiddling its thumbs now that its prey is stationary, is it?"
When they first burst through the front door, John saw Castiel across the road. His back was to them, and he was half-hidden behind the Impala. Only his head and shoulders were visible where they leaned back against the roof of the car, his face pointed skyward with an expression of bliss. John supposed that he was enjoying the sun.
"We have a location!" Rose shouted.
Castiel jumped, straightening up and turning around with a faint blush on his cheeks. Then Dean appeared from where he had been kneeling behind the car. He turned and spat something into the bushes before answering, "Finally! But how…" He performed a quick pat-down of his pockets, and, not finding his phone, whirled on Sherlock. "You stole my phone, Cheekbones?" he growled.
"It's a good thing I did," Sherlock said, tossing Dean his phone back. "If you had had it, you might have been too distracted to answer it when it rang." When Dean immediately opened the phone and began dialing a number, Sherlock added, "There's no need to call him back. I know the way. Just follow our van."
Dean lifted his lip at Sherlock - almost a snarl. "I'm not following you anywhere," he said, putting the phone to his ear as he slid into the car. "You can follow me."
Castiel joined Dean in the Impala. While Dean talked on the phone instead of revving the engine and speeding away, the Doctor, Rose, and John exchanged nervous glances.
"Do you think…?" said John.
"Just in case…" said the Doctor.
Rose sighed. "I'll go with them, make sure they don't ditch us." And she dove into the back seat just as Dean put the phone down and turned the key in the ignition.
-----
"Okay. Okay, Dean," said Sam into his phone. "See you in a couple of hours." He hung up. He had already given all the relevant information to Sherlock, but he had to admit that it was a relief to talk to Dean too. Despite Sherlock saying that they would be there as soon as possible, Sam was much more reassured by Dean's curt, "Stay put. We're hitting the road right now."
The hotel lobby that Jack had dragged Sam into was nicer than the places that he and Dean usually stayed at. Sam had tried to explain that the others would be there in a matter of hours, not days, but Jack insisted that they needed a hotel room. "If we have to kill time," Jack had explained, "Then we're going to a bar. If we go to a bar, I'll pick someone up. I'm sorry; it's inevitable. And when the inevitable inevitably comes to pass, I'm going to need a room to bring them back to."
It wasn't as if Sam could complain. Jack was "paying" for everything with a sheet of psychic paper. Although now that Sam looked again, it seemed that Jack wasn't so much paying for a room as he was flirting with the receptionist.
"Is it a nice room?" he was asking her. "I mean, if someone brought you back there, would you be impressed?"
The receptionist, for her part, was shyly flirting back. She lowered her eyes and giggled as she said, "I don't know. Probably not."
"Then give me a better room!" Jack said, "Jacuzzi in the bathroom! Mirrors on the ceiling!"
The receptionist laughed. "It's not that kind of hotel."
Sam stepped forward and dragged Jack away from the desk. "He'll take the room you gave him, thanks!" he told the receptionist, who seemed a little disappointed to see Jack go. Then, to Jack, "You're supposed to be laying low! Didn't you say something was after you?"
"If you'd let me talk to her for five more minutes, I would have been laying very low," he said. "Why do you have to ruin my fun?"
Sam tried to steer him upstairs to the room, but Jack pulled toward the bar. They ended up in a stalemate, standing at the fork in the hallway between the elevators and the restaurant, staring each other down. "Do you understand how insanely lucky we got, landing so close to Dean?" Sam said, "We should just sit tight and not go looking for trouble."
"I'm not looking for trouble," said Jack. "I'm looking for some action. You can go sit tight somewhere else."
"Fine," said Sam, tight-lipped. "I'll wait in the room."
Jack replied with a grin. "Good! When I bring someone up, you can join in!"
Sam, who had been heading toward the elevators, turned on his heel and marched toward the front door instead. "On second thought," he said, "I'm going for a walk."
Jack watched him go, shaking his head. "That poor kid really needs to lighten up," he said as he made for the bar.
He ordered a drink, giving the cute, tattooed bartender a blatant wink along with his order. She was clearly uninterested, but that was no problem. Jack scanned the bar for other options. There weren't many people drinking in the middle of the day - a couple of young women giggling with their heads together by the window and drinking lemonades, a harried-looking woman nursing a double of whiskey, three young men watching a video on their phones and sharing a pitcher of beer, and a man in a sharp suit who wasn't drinking anything at all.
Options.
But Jack didn't even get the chance to butterfly his way around the room and attract a (temporary) mate. When he went to order a second drink, the man in the suit joined him at the bar and smoothly paid for it.
"That's very kind of you," said Jack, sticking his hand out. "Captain Jack Harkness."
The man took Jack's hand with a strangely reptilian smile. "Nice to meet you," he said. "I'm Jim."
-----
The van pulled out after the Impala, dutifully following. But soon it jumped forward into the passing lane, zooming by the Impala while the Doctor waved cheerfully at Dean. Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter and took the next opportunity to duck around the van and back into the lead. The Doctor passed him again at the next straightaway, grinning like a loon. Dean had passed the van once more, and the Doctor was looking like he was about to attempt another switch, when Rose said from the back seat, "He doesn't realize that he's making you angry, you know. He's just having fun."
"I'm glad one of us is," Dean muttered. But he took a deep breath and even managed a minimally-sarcastic wave when the Doctor passed him by. This time he stayed behind the van, giving up the game of back-and-forth. "I have to hand it to him," Dean said, calmer this time. "At least he's keeping up."
"Torchwood vehicles are faster than they look," said Rose, "And the Doctor still hasn't figured out that speed limits are usually well below his car's top speed."
The fondness in her voice made Dean ask, "So are you and him…?"
"Yes," Rose answered quickly. "Well… yes."
Castiel turned around in the passenger seat. "Back in the farmhouse, the two of you seemed to be having some sort of disagreement."
"We…" Rose looked about ready to launch into an extended rant, but then she stopped, sighed, and said instead, "It's complicated."
"Sister, I have been there," said Dean with genuine sympathy. Cas looked like he didn't know whether to be hurt or not, only relaxing again when Dean reached across and squeezed his shoulder.
They drove in silence until Dean got bored and passed the van again. The van almost immediately passed them back, the Doctor beeping the horn happily as he sped ahead of them. This time, Dean smiled.
"Sorry about before," Dean said, glancing at Rose in the rearview mirror. "It's been a weird day. A really weird day. But I'm not after your pal's vortex-whatever. I just want my brother back, okay?"
Cas beamed at Dean. Rose was momentarily stunned, but then she caught Dean's eye in the mirror and smiled. "So," she said, "You've decided to trust us after all?"
"You're not so bad," said Dean, shrugging. "John, too. Even your boyfriend - he drives like a maniac; I can respect that." Then he frowned and added, "I still don't like that asshole in the scarf, though."
Rose laughed. "I don't think many people do." She paused, and then leaned forward over the front bench seat to look Dean and Cas in their faces. "You really don't want the vortex manipulator?"
"We really don't," Cas assured her.
She turned to Dean. "Really?" she repeated. "You seem like the kind of man who has things in his past he'd like to change."
Dean took his eyes off the road for a few seconds to give Rose a good, hard look. Then he looked back at the road, taking a few seconds to compose his thoughts before saying, "Don't get me wrong. If I had a time machine, I'd be really, really tempted. I could save me a lot of trouble by talking to my past self for a few hours, if my past self would listen. And, yeah, there are some things I'd like to try to stop from happening. Some people I'd warn to stay away from me, for their own good. But it never seems to go as simple as you'd think. The more you try to change things, the more they stay the same." His voice, which had been dark and far away, suddenly brightened as he continued, "Besides, here and now, I've got Sam and I've got Cas. That's pretty damn good. I'm positive that there are lots of realities where I wasn't this lucky. So, no. I don't want the vortex manipulator. And if I had it, I wouldn't change a damn thing."
Rose settled back into her seat, saying, "I believe you."
A second later, Dean hit the gas and passed the van again, blasting the horn the whole way.
-----
True to Sherlock's prediction, it took them almost exactly two and a half hours to get to the town Sam had called from. They only needed to stop once for gas. Castiel and Rose went into the attached shop to get snacks; Sherlock and the Doctor stayed perched in their seats, conversing animatedly on the topic of Betelgeuse.
From where he was pumping gas into the van, John called through the window, "I thought you didn't care about astronomy."
"I do when it concerns a sentient species that may have been involved in a string of unsolved murders in the 1980s," Sherlock replied. "Do go on, Doctor."
John looked put-out enough that Dean noticed from where he was feeding a fake credit card into the next pump over. "You two are kind of co-dependent, aren't you?" he asked. John looked about ready to launch into a vehement denial, but Dean stopped him with a raised hand and, "No, no. I'm not judging. I kind of have experience in that area."
Dean called Sam again as they rolled into the little town. "Thank God you're here!" Sam said in a hushed voice. "Head to the Riverside Hotel. I'll meet you there."
"There's a river in this town?" Dean replied.
"No, that's just what they call it," whispered Sam. "Jack is in room 211. Bring a bucket of ice water to throw on him."
"Dude, why are you whispering?" Dean said, his voice involuntarily dropping to match Sam's volume.
"Because I'm at the library," said Sam. "I've been hiding out here for over two hours, and I can't go back to the hotel or Jack will try to get me to join an orgy or something."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You are literally the only person in history who would rather hang out at the library than have an orgy."
Cas, who could only hear Dean's side of the conversation, raised his eyebrows in alarm. Rose didn't look at all surprised that the conversation was taking a turn toward group sex, considering that Jack was involved.
The van followed the Impala through the twisty streets. Even though they got turned around a few times and took almost fifteen minutes to find the place, Sam was nowhere to be seen when they pulled up to the hotel.
"He's not picking up his phone," said Dean after trying Sam for the third time.
"I saw the library when we were driving the wrong way down Front street," said Cas, narrowing his eyes. "It's only three blocks away from here. Sam should be here by now."
The Doctor and John were edging toward the hotel door, eager to find Jack. Rose followed them. "Are you coming?" she called back to Dean. "We could use an extra hand, in case we run into trouble."
Dean hesitated until Cas put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll find Sam," Cas promised. "He can't be far. I'll meet you back here."
"You got enough mojo to track him down the fast way?" Dean asked.
Cas shook his head. "I'll go on foot. Don't worry, Dean. I'll find him."
Dean nodded gratefully.
"Sherlock, are you coming?" John called. Sherlock was still sitting in the passenger seat of the van and eyeing a blue Porsche that was parked across the street. As John watched, Sherlock dashed out of the van and across the street to swipe his finger along the window edge of the car. He studied his fingertip for a second, then ran back across the street to reply, "No, I think not. You have fun though." John looked baffled, but he didn't argue.
As Cas took off down the street and Sherlock installed himself back in the van, the rest of the group stormed into the lobby of the hotel. "Um," said the receptionist. "Do you want to book a room?"
The Doctor held up a slip of psychic paper in a leather holder and said, "Scotland Yard, ma'am!"
"He means FBI," Rose added as they all rushed past the stunned receptionist.
They had rounded the corner, thundered up the stairs, and made their way down the hallway to room 211 before Dean remembered what Sam had said about orgies and ice water.
"Do you think we should, you know, knock?" he wondered aloud.
After their purposeful approach, no one seemed to know what to do with that suggestion.
"I suppose?" said the Doctor.
Rose reached between Dean and John and rapped on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, louder. Still nothing.
"Screw this," said Dean, and he kicked the door in.
Because there was really no point in being subtle at that point, they all stormed in. Then they promptly stopped in their tracks at the sight of Captain Jack Harkness, naked from head to toe, handcuffed to the headboard of the bed and looking extremely nonplussed at the influx of new arrivals.
That sight was distracting enough that they almost missed the man in the crisp suit who was standing by the bed, in the process of unhooking the vortex manipulator from Jack's wrist.
"Moriarty!" John shouted, leveling his gun. Rose followed his lead, supposing that if someone as rational as John was prepared to shoot this man then he must be someone worth shooting. Dean did the same.
The Doctor peeked over their shoulders, his hands empty. He waved to Jack. "Hello!" he said. "I'm the Doctor. We spoke on the phone."
Slowly, with a long-suffering roll of his eyes, Moriarty put his hands in the air. "This is your fault," he said to Jack not-unpleasantly. "If you had just accepted my offer to go up to your room instead of insisting on drinking and flirting for hours on end, I would have been gone long before they arrived."
Jack grinned up at Moriarty from where he was shackled to the bed. "I was just enjoying your company," he replied. "If I'd known you were going to get kinky with me as soon as we went upstairs, I would have sped things up."
"Who is he?" Rose muttered to John.
"Long story," John muttered back. "Short version: clever, evil, once tried to blow me up in a swimming pool."
"What?" Dean muttered to them both.
Then Rose decided that someone ought to take control of this standoff. "Keep your guns trained on him, boys," she said, and strode toward Moriarty. She plucked the vortex manipulator neatly out of his hand. Moriarty made no move to stop her. All he did was smile, at once benign and vaguely threatening.
Rose turned away from Moriarty for just long enough to toss the vortex manipulator across the room to the Doctor. He caught it, cradling it like it was made of glass. Even watching him only out of the corner of her eye, Rose knew that his eyes must have been sparkling. She hadn't forgotten what he'd said back at the farmhouse. Now that he had the device in his hands, he might never let it go.
And Rose wasn't sure if she wanted him to. For as long as he held the thing, he was once more a master of space and time. The vortex manipulator belonged to Jack, yes, but it wasn't as if neither of them had ever stolen something before. The Doctor had originally stolen the TARDIS, after all.
The Doctor flipped the device open and, with only a second to look at its innards, he pushed one or two components back into place and clicked it closed. "Fixed. It's not pretty, but it'll work. It just needs an hour or so to recalibrate." He slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Jack had been watching the whole drama unfold around him with hardly a slip in his smile, but his eyes followed the vortex manipulator nervously as it was put away. "So you're the Doctor," he said. "I guess you really are as good as you claim. Now how about getting me out of here, unless you're into this kind of thing?"
"He's spoken for, I'm afraid," said Rose. Then, holding her hand out to Moriarty, "Key, please."
Moriarty didn't even pretend not to know what she was talking about. He just reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and handed over the key to Jack's handcuffs.
While Rose freed Jack, he smiled broadly up at her. "Can I ask who I have the pleasure of being rescued by?" he said.
"Torchwood," Rose replied brightly. "I'm Rose Tyler, by the way."
Jack's eyes swept over the Doctor, John, and Dean before returning incredulously to Rose. "You guys are Torchwood? Are they hiring from modeling agencies now?"
Rose laughed. It was good to know that Jack was the same no matter what universe they were in. She finished unlocking his handcuffs and he stood, rubbing his wrists.
"Dude," said Dean. His eyes were still on Moriarty, but Jack's full-frontal nudity was inescapably in his peripheral vision. "Do you think you could skip the sweet talk and put some clothes on?"
Jack turned and put his hands on his hips so that his groin was pushed forward. "Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?" he said with a grin.
"Stop it, all of you!" John snapped. "I don't think you appreciate just how dangerous Moriarty is." Moriarty, for his part, was still holding his hands up and looking quietly amused at the whole proceedings. John went on. "There's clearly something else going on here. Someone go down and get Sherlock; he'll know what to do."
But before anyone could think about following John's order, a voice floated in from the direction of the hallway. "Hey, Dean-o!"
Dean flinched so violently that he almost dropped his gun.
"Who…?" the Doctor wondered.
"Meg," said Dean tersely.
"Come on out, Dean!" Meg called again. "I've got something I think belongs to you."
Dean lowered his gun to his side, shoved past the Doctor, and skidded out into the hall, leaving John as the only person still covering Moriarty.
"Excuse me!" John protested.
Rose added her own weapon to the situation, pointing it straight-armed at the back of Moriarty's head. "Go!" she ordered. "Walk!" Moriarty complied, and Rose steered him out into the hall after Dean. John and the Doctor followed her. With a shrug, Jack brought up the rear.
The scene in the hallway made it immediately apparent why Dean had been in such a hurry. A bright-faced, dark-haired woman stood several yards down the hall. She was dual-wielding pistols that she held pointed at her two hostages, who were on their knees in front of her. On her left knelt Sam, sporting a bloody nose, a split lip, and a black eye. On her right was Castiel. He looked in better shape than Sam, but his hunched posture hinted at injuries hidden beneath his clothes.
A couple of doors along the hallway cracked open and curious faces appeared, drawn by the noise. The doors quickly closed again.
"Sorry, Dean," said Sam. "She got the drop on me."
Dean's gun was pointed at Meg's head, but his hand was shaking. "Let them go, Meg," he said.
Meg looked at him almost pityingly. "Aw, honey. Do you really think that's likely? Now, all of you put your guns down and kick them towards me."
Dean tightened his grip on his gun for a moment, but then the tension went out of his shoulders and he dropped it to his side, defeated. Slowly, he placed his gun on the floor and kicked it toward Meg. A glance at Rose and John silently begged them to do the same.
"I could hit her from this distance," John offered in a whisper. He wasn't keen on shooting anyone, especially when there was so much he didn't know about the situation, but if people's lives were in danger then he was ready to spring into action. Besides, he was confident that he could make a non-lethal shot.
"Wouldn't matter," Dean replied. "She's a demon. You could shoot her in the heart and it'd be about as useful as poking a bear with a stick."
"What about Moriarty?" Rose whispered, the barrel of her gun still resting between his shoulder blades. "We'll be sitting ducks."
Just then, Meg called out, "I'm waiting! Five more seconds and I'm gonna start shooting off body parts. They don't actually need ears, right? Five… four…"
Dean turned toward Rose and John one more time. "Guys…" he said.
He didn't need to say anything more. Rose and John tossed their weapons into the no-man's land between the two sides.
"Good choice," said Meg. "Now, toss me the vortex manipulator."
"What?" the Doctor snapped.
"What?" Rose echoed.
"Hey…" Jack said, holding up a finger as if to remind everyone of the actual owner of said vortex manipulator.
John glared. "Why?"
"Because that's what all of this was about," Meg groaned, rolling her eyes. "You guys are really not that bright, are you? I mean, what did you think Moriarty and I were trying to accomplish here? Get this asshole shackled to a bed?" She jerked her head toward Jack. Then her eyes did a once-over of his naked body and she added, "Actually, that wouldn't be a terrible plan."
Jack stopped looking worried about losing his vortex manipulator for long enough to look flattered.
"You want it?" said Dean. "You got it. I don't care about it anyway. Just let them go."
Meg almost did a little dance of glee. "Oh, here's the really fun part," she said. "I will let one of them go. And guess who gets to choose?"
Sam looked up at her from his position on the ground and said wryly, "You know that's probably the worst cliché you could possibly have pulled?"
"The classics are classics for a reason," said Meg. "Just look at your brother's face."
Dean could only imagine what his face looked like. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had known that this was coming as soon as he saw that both Sam and Cas had been taken hostage, but every fiber of his being had hoped that it wouldn't go that way. Now his knees felt weak as his eyes flicked frantically between his two choices.
His brother? Or the man he loved?
"Dean," Sam said gravely. "Save Castiel. I'll be fine."
Cas was quick to answer. "No, Dean! You have to save Sam."
Meg looked delighted. "I'd tell them to shut up," she said to Dean, "But I think they might actually be making this harder on you."
But then Rose stepped forward with a solution. "We'll trade you the vortex manipulator for one of them, and Moriarty for the other. He's your accomplice, right?"
"So?" said Meg, shrugging. "Kill him if you want. See if I care."
"Not to mention," Moriarty finally spoke up, "Now that your guns are over there and not pointed at me, there's really nothing to stop me from… doing this." And then, holding his arms out dramatically, as if he were performing a magic trick, he walked across the no-man's land between the two groups and installed himself behind Meg. John lurched forward once, as if he were considering tackling Moriarty before he reached safety, but he thought better of it and fell back in line.
"What's this about?" said the Doctor suspiciously. "What do a demon and a… um…"
"Consulting criminal," John supplied.
"What do a demon and a consulting criminal want with the vortex manipulator?" the Doctor finished.
Meg shrugged enigmatically. "You'll have to ask him what he wants with it," she said. "As for me, that shouldn't be too hard to figure out."
Cas turned to glare up at Meg. "You want to go back in time and use your knowledge of future events to ensure that Lucifer defeats Michael and brings about the apocalypse," he said.
"Point for the pretty one," said Meg with a smile.
John gaped for a moment before barking, "The apocalypse? She wants to start the apocalypse?" He caught Moriarty's eye. "I knew you were insane, but even you can't want the world to end!"
Moriarty, who looked bored by the whole affair, replied, "Oh, I don't. Once we get the vortex manipulator, I'll double-cross her and take it for myself." When everyone's eyes went to Meg, he added, "Oh, don't worry. She knows. She's working on her own plan to double-cross me, too."
"You think you can win against her?" asked the Doctor. "She's a demon, you know."
"Oh, like I've never dealt with demons before," said Moriarty. He reached into the collar of his shirt and fished out a thin silver chain. A pendant engraved with the anti-possession sigil dangled from the end.
"But what are you going to do if you win?" John demanded.
"When I win," Moriarty corrected. "And why on earth would I tell you and ruin the surprise? I haven't even properly decided what I'm going to do with it yet. I mean, it's time travel. I can think of fifteen ways to bring down the British government and install myself as Emperor, and I'm not even trying!"
Meg nudged him with her elbow, not looking at all concerned about his declaration of his plans to betray her. "Would you quit monologuing?" she said. "We aren't even supposed to be here. Fucking with Dean is the only thing that makes this whole mess worth it right now, and you're distracting him." She looked back at Dean, letting him know that she hadn't forgotten her challenge.
Dean had barely heard the whole conversation. He had been silent so far, desperately trying to find an alternative to the scenario Meg had laid out. Now he swallowed hard and asked, "What happens to the one I don't choose?"
"I keep him as insurance against you following me when I make my getaway," said Meg. "After that… who knows?" Her toothy smile made Dean sure that she already had a few ideas.
"Take me instead," he said, but Meg only laughed.
"You know I'm not going to let you get away with that."
As the horror of the decision settled into Dean's chest, making it feel like his lungs were collapsing, he could hear his father's voice mingling with his own, repeating the mantra that had carried him through life ever since he was four years old. Protect your brother. Sammy came first, always, in everything, before anyone.
But Cas.
But Cas.
Ashen-faced, Dean made a noise that was barely recognizable as a single, choked syllable.
"You're going to have to speak up, there," said Meg, cocking an exaggerated hand to her ear.
Dean had to try twice more before he managed to say it. "Sam," he said, "Sam. Sam. Give me Sam."
His eyes flicked to Cas, dreading the expression of betrayal that he expected to find. But Cas held Dean's gaze evenly and, as Dean watched, a ghost of a smile flitted across his face. Then Cas's eyes closed and he gave a single, deliberate nod.
He had known who Dean would pick. He had known before Dean had known. Somehow, that made it worse.
Meg shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I figured," she said, sounding bored now that the game was over. "Gimme the vortex manipulator and he's yours."
Dean was too distracted to remember where the device had gone, but Jack, John, and Rose turned to the Doctor. Their eyes dropped to his pocket. For a second he hesitated, and Dean wasn't sure if he was going to give it up.
The Doctor's hand settled over the bulging pocket protectively. Then, stiffly, it dipped inside and drew out the gleaming device in its leather strap. He clutched it, still holding it close to himself. Dean stretched out his hand for it in a way that made it clear that if the Doctor didn't hand it over, Dean would take it.
"We could rush them," the Doctor whispered. "Take them out. We don't need to play into their hands."
Dean might have listened if he hadn't known that the Doctor was more concerned with not losing the vortex manipulator than he was with keeping people alive. Instead, he just felt like punching the Doctor in the face.
"They're armed," Jack pointed out. "We're not. We can win, but not here. Not now. Not without people getting killed. And I don't really care about most of you, but I kind of like Sam, and right now it looks like we don't have very many options that don't end in Sam getting shot."
But the Doctor didn't loosen his grip until Rose leaned forward and whispered something into his ear. She spoke so softly that Dean couldn't make out a single word, but the Doctor's face fell immediately upon hearing it. Rose pulled away. The Doctor placed the vortex manipulator in Dean's hand.
Dean threw it, a spiteful fastball aimed straight at Meg's face. She snatched it out of the air easily. And true to her word, she dropped the gun aimed at Sam and kicked him toward Dean. Sam looked back quickly, but Cas shook his head. "Sammy!" Dean called out, warning him not to do anything stupid.
His face drawn in a grimace, Sam scampered across to join his brother.
Once Sam was back behind friendly lines, Dean let himself look back at Castiel. Though Dean didn't say a word, Cas smiled in understanding.
Dean's eyes rose to Meg's smiling face. "I'll send you back to Hell for this, you evil bitch."
Meg holstered both her guns and grabbed Cas around the back of the neck. "Good luck with that," she said cheerily. Moriarty put his hand on Meg's shoulder.
And in that split second before Meg, Moriarty, and Castiel disappeared into thin air, the elevator doors just to their left opened. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Sherlock Holmes stepped out of the elevator, sidled up to Moriarty, and took his hand.
With a dramatic snap of Meg's fingers, all four of them were gone.
-----
When Meg rematerialized at her destination - a conveniently abandoned convenience store in the next state over - she wobbled on her feet and nearly fell. She only managed to stay upright by using the angel as a crutch, grip tightening on the back of his neck. He grunted in pain as she leaned into him.
She had gotten so used to being juiced up on souls that it was almost painful to fall back to the level she had been at before her deal with Moriarty. Unfortunately, that last jump had taken up the last of her power boost. She was an ordinary black-eyed demon again - perhaps stronger than most, due to her parentage, but without certain extra conveniences like teleportation. She couldn't even get herself out of driving range of the Winchesters which, though she knew they had no hope of finding her, made her jumpy. Now that she was so close to completing her plan, she would have preferred to be completely out of their reach. Like Barbados. Or the moon. She would have to settle for rural Kentucky.
It was only then that she bothered to look over at Moriarty, and found the unexpected passenger at his side.
"What is he doing here?" she shrieked, after recovering from a moment of silent shock.
Moriarty shrugged, still holding Sherlock's hand and looking intensely amused at the unexpected turn of events. Sherlock was silent. He just threw Meg the kind of smarmy smile that begged to be slapped off his face.
So Meg complied, backhanding Sherlock so hard that he was knocked off his feet. He spat blood into the dust, but the grin still hovered on his lips. Meg resisted the urge to kick him. She had more important things to do.
She pulled Sherlock to his feet and checked his pockets. Aside from a pack of nicotine patches, they were empty.
"Lock them in a closet or something," she ordered, handing Moriarty her gun and holding up the vortex manipulator. "We need to figure out how to use this damned thing."
Castiel and Sherlock walked compliantly in front of Moriarty as he guided them with the barrel of his pistol. Castiel looked resigned to whatever was about to happen, but Sherlock was still smiling that infuriating smile. It didn't leave his face even as Moriarty found a cellar with a locking door and shut both the hostages inside.
Part 3
Part 1
Rose and John had wandered around to the back of the farmhouse, leaving Sherlock and the Doctor in the shabby living room to pass the time together. The Doctor sank deeper into the filthy couch with each passing second. For a man who once controlled the very fabric of time, waiting was something of an unwelcome nuisance.
"Bored," the Doctor announced.
"I truly sympathize," Sherlock muttered as he fiddled with a cell phone, flipping it into the air and tossing it between his hands.
The Doctor squinted at it as it flew. "That's not the same phone you had before," he said.
"It's Winchester's," Sherlock explained. "It fell out of his pocket as he left."
"No, it didn't," said the Doctor. "I would have noticed."
Sherlock grinned. "Very well. If you want me to be precise, I nicked it."
"Well done, then," said the Doctor. "Trying to deduce more about him?"
"Oh, I already deduced most of what I needed to know about him from his car and his clothing," said Sherlock, giving the phone a final flip before setting it on a three-legged table. "I stole the phone mostly just to annoy him."
They sat in silence a while longer before the Doctor huffed a sigh and said, "I should go after Rose."
"Why?" Sherlock asked. "She seemed perfectly happy to go off and gossip with John."
"Because she's cross with me," said the Doctor. "I should go… I dunno. Make it right."
"How do you propose to do that?"
"Good point," said the Doctor, flopping over on the couch and hanging his feet over the back so that his head was pointed down. "I suppose I should start with figuring out why she's angry."
Sherlock pulled out his own phone and fiddled with it while he spoke. "I thought that much was obvious. She's figured out that you don't quite measure up to the original version, and she's becoming disillusioned."
Anyone else might have socked Sherlock in the nose. The Doctor just sighed. "But then, how do I win her back over?"
Sherlock's head flinched backwards so violently that several extra chins formed beneath the first. "You're asking me for relationship advice?" he said dubiously. "I would tell you that you're asking the wrong person, but that's something of an understatement."
The Doctor chose to ignore Sherlock in favor of rambling. "Well, I suppose I know the problem. We thought it would work because, well, we're perfect for each other. She's Rose. And I'm part me, part my ninth incarnation, and part Donna. We ought to get along splendidly. But I'm also something else, something neither of us really thought about, and that's stuck."
"On Earth, you mean," said Sherlock, the squint of his eyes belying the fact that he was actually having trouble keeping up with the Doctor's train of thought.
"Yes, on Earth," the Doctor went on. "It ruins everything. It makes me angry, and that's not who Rose fell in love with." He sighed despondently. "I honestly thought I'd be happy here, but when I remember what I used be able to do, what I used to be! To go from dancing through space-time and being practically immortal to… this…" He gestured at his body, still draped upside down on the couch. "How can I make a human understand? It's as if you were living your life quite happily, and suddenly you find out that you've only got a month to live. And you're going to be stuck in a breadbox the whole time."
Sherlock clearly would have preferred to have been having any other conversation than this one, but he gamely said, "Perhaps Rose feels the same way."
"Oh, I know how Rose feels," said the Doctor, who had managed to work himself into a fierce sulk. "She feels like someone who thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with a man who could take her anywhere in time and space, only to find out that he has one month to live and is stuck in a breadbox."
Sherlock stared until the Doctor rolled his eyes and added, "Figuratively."
"Once again," said Sherlock, "I'm a detective, not a relationship counselor. If you want romantic advice then you should ask John."
"Oh, so he's the romantic one in the relationship, is he?" said the Doctor.
"What relationship is that?" asked Sherlock, genuinely curious.
"I thought…" said the Doctor. "You two are kind of… you know."
Sherlock apparently knew well enough, because instead of continuing in confusion he requested, "Cite your evidence."
The Doctor smirked, his mood somewhat repaired. "Oh, I don't need to be a genius detective to figure that out."
"Your skills of deduction need work," said Sherlock. "I have no interest in carrying on a sexual relationship with anyone. Not even John."
The Doctor shrugged. "What does sex have to do with anything?"
Sherlock steepled his fingers and was silent as he digested that observation.
-----
John was glad to get a moment alone with Rose. He would have preferred to get Sherlock alone, if only to demand a few dozen explanations for the things that had happened since they had faced down Mycroft back in London, but as fond as he was of Sherlock the man was his own brand of exhausting. With Rose, he could take a deep breath and try to sort things out on his own.
"How are you holding up, John?" said Rose, looking at him with a sympathetic-but-amused smile. She was sitting on the steps up to the back porch.
John was pacing back and forth in front of her, passing in and out of the light of the rising sun. Unlike Sherlock's manic strides, John's pacing was slow and deliberate, each step measured. Rose's question made him lose his rhythm, but he didn't care. It was nice to have someone normal enough to notice that he felt like he was losing his mind.
"It's…" he said. "Well, it's a lot to take in all at once."
"You're not wrong," she replied. "Aliens. Other dimensions. Time travel. And now even angels."
John laughed helplessly. "It sounds ridiculous when you say it all at once. I didn't know about any of it before yesterday."
"You're taking it quite well."
"I am, aren't I?" John had been comparing his reaction to the rest of the group, but now that he took into account the fact that everyone else had started with at least some basic knowledge about the supernatural elements at play, he decided to give himself credit for holding together as well as he had. He found that his urge to pace had waned. He sat next to Rose on the steps. "I suppose that's down to Sherlock," he said. "Following him around, I see the strangest things every day. I've almost gotten used to taking it all in stride. Because he always knows what he's doing - or, God help me, at least he acts like it. I don't know. It's just something about him that makes the extraordinary seem possible, or even like it's to be expected. If anyone else had told me that aliens exist, I'd have said they were daft. He tells me, and I'm following him to Torchwood within the hour. And then to America. And then to… oh, who the hell knows? Probably the ends of the Earth."
John caught Rose staring at him with a giant, beaming smile on her face. He rested his head on one hand with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"
"You're making perfect sense," said Rose, her fond smile only growing. "Believe me when I tell you I know exactly what you mean."
John twitched an eye at her as he caught her meaning. "He's not my boyfriend," he repeated himself.
"Why the hell not?" Rose replied.
Just then, the door behind them slammed open. Sherlock stood in the doorframe, waving a cell phone. John would have liked to answer Rose, but he couldn't stop himself from noticing, "That's not your phone."
"What?" Sherlock chirped. "Oh. No, it's not. Sam Winchester called back. Let's go!"
"Is he still with Jack?" Rose asked, leaping to her feet. "Are they back in the States?"
Sherlock turned and swept back into the house without a backwards glance, expecting John and Rose to follow him. They did. As he walked, Sherlock said, "Yes and yes. They're three hours away. Two and a half, if you let the Doctor drive again. We should leave immediately. The race is on!"
"Why are we racing?" John asked, jumping forward to walk beside Sherlock. As they passed through the main room, the Doctor joined them.
"Not each other," said Sherlock. "Our shadowy enemy. Whatever it was that caused our dear Captain Jack to crash, it isn't likely to be sitting around twiddling its thumbs now that its prey is stationary, is it?"
When they first burst through the front door, John saw Castiel across the road. His back was to them, and he was half-hidden behind the Impala. Only his head and shoulders were visible where they leaned back against the roof of the car, his face pointed skyward with an expression of bliss. John supposed that he was enjoying the sun.
"We have a location!" Rose shouted.
Castiel jumped, straightening up and turning around with a faint blush on his cheeks. Then Dean appeared from where he had been kneeling behind the car. He turned and spat something into the bushes before answering, "Finally! But how…" He performed a quick pat-down of his pockets, and, not finding his phone, whirled on Sherlock. "You stole my phone, Cheekbones?" he growled.
"It's a good thing I did," Sherlock said, tossing Dean his phone back. "If you had had it, you might have been too distracted to answer it when it rang." When Dean immediately opened the phone and began dialing a number, Sherlock added, "There's no need to call him back. I know the way. Just follow our van."
Dean lifted his lip at Sherlock - almost a snarl. "I'm not following you anywhere," he said, putting the phone to his ear as he slid into the car. "You can follow me."
Castiel joined Dean in the Impala. While Dean talked on the phone instead of revving the engine and speeding away, the Doctor, Rose, and John exchanged nervous glances.
"Do you think…?" said John.
"Just in case…" said the Doctor.
Rose sighed. "I'll go with them, make sure they don't ditch us." And she dove into the back seat just as Dean put the phone down and turned the key in the ignition.
-----
"Okay. Okay, Dean," said Sam into his phone. "See you in a couple of hours." He hung up. He had already given all the relevant information to Sherlock, but he had to admit that it was a relief to talk to Dean too. Despite Sherlock saying that they would be there as soon as possible, Sam was much more reassured by Dean's curt, "Stay put. We're hitting the road right now."
The hotel lobby that Jack had dragged Sam into was nicer than the places that he and Dean usually stayed at. Sam had tried to explain that the others would be there in a matter of hours, not days, but Jack insisted that they needed a hotel room. "If we have to kill time," Jack had explained, "Then we're going to a bar. If we go to a bar, I'll pick someone up. I'm sorry; it's inevitable. And when the inevitable inevitably comes to pass, I'm going to need a room to bring them back to."
It wasn't as if Sam could complain. Jack was "paying" for everything with a sheet of psychic paper. Although now that Sam looked again, it seemed that Jack wasn't so much paying for a room as he was flirting with the receptionist.
"Is it a nice room?" he was asking her. "I mean, if someone brought you back there, would you be impressed?"
The receptionist, for her part, was shyly flirting back. She lowered her eyes and giggled as she said, "I don't know. Probably not."
"Then give me a better room!" Jack said, "Jacuzzi in the bathroom! Mirrors on the ceiling!"
The receptionist laughed. "It's not that kind of hotel."
Sam stepped forward and dragged Jack away from the desk. "He'll take the room you gave him, thanks!" he told the receptionist, who seemed a little disappointed to see Jack go. Then, to Jack, "You're supposed to be laying low! Didn't you say something was after you?"
"If you'd let me talk to her for five more minutes, I would have been laying very low," he said. "Why do you have to ruin my fun?"
Sam tried to steer him upstairs to the room, but Jack pulled toward the bar. They ended up in a stalemate, standing at the fork in the hallway between the elevators and the restaurant, staring each other down. "Do you understand how insanely lucky we got, landing so close to Dean?" Sam said, "We should just sit tight and not go looking for trouble."
"I'm not looking for trouble," said Jack. "I'm looking for some action. You can go sit tight somewhere else."
"Fine," said Sam, tight-lipped. "I'll wait in the room."
Jack replied with a grin. "Good! When I bring someone up, you can join in!"
Sam, who had been heading toward the elevators, turned on his heel and marched toward the front door instead. "On second thought," he said, "I'm going for a walk."
Jack watched him go, shaking his head. "That poor kid really needs to lighten up," he said as he made for the bar.
He ordered a drink, giving the cute, tattooed bartender a blatant wink along with his order. She was clearly uninterested, but that was no problem. Jack scanned the bar for other options. There weren't many people drinking in the middle of the day - a couple of young women giggling with their heads together by the window and drinking lemonades, a harried-looking woman nursing a double of whiskey, three young men watching a video on their phones and sharing a pitcher of beer, and a man in a sharp suit who wasn't drinking anything at all.
Options.
But Jack didn't even get the chance to butterfly his way around the room and attract a (temporary) mate. When he went to order a second drink, the man in the suit joined him at the bar and smoothly paid for it.
"That's very kind of you," said Jack, sticking his hand out. "Captain Jack Harkness."
The man took Jack's hand with a strangely reptilian smile. "Nice to meet you," he said. "I'm Jim."
-----
The van pulled out after the Impala, dutifully following. But soon it jumped forward into the passing lane, zooming by the Impala while the Doctor waved cheerfully at Dean. Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter and took the next opportunity to duck around the van and back into the lead. The Doctor passed him again at the next straightaway, grinning like a loon. Dean had passed the van once more, and the Doctor was looking like he was about to attempt another switch, when Rose said from the back seat, "He doesn't realize that he's making you angry, you know. He's just having fun."
"I'm glad one of us is," Dean muttered. But he took a deep breath and even managed a minimally-sarcastic wave when the Doctor passed him by. This time he stayed behind the van, giving up the game of back-and-forth. "I have to hand it to him," Dean said, calmer this time. "At least he's keeping up."
"Torchwood vehicles are faster than they look," said Rose, "And the Doctor still hasn't figured out that speed limits are usually well below his car's top speed."
The fondness in her voice made Dean ask, "So are you and him…?"
"Yes," Rose answered quickly. "Well… yes."
Castiel turned around in the passenger seat. "Back in the farmhouse, the two of you seemed to be having some sort of disagreement."
"We…" Rose looked about ready to launch into an extended rant, but then she stopped, sighed, and said instead, "It's complicated."
"Sister, I have been there," said Dean with genuine sympathy. Cas looked like he didn't know whether to be hurt or not, only relaxing again when Dean reached across and squeezed his shoulder.
They drove in silence until Dean got bored and passed the van again. The van almost immediately passed them back, the Doctor beeping the horn happily as he sped ahead of them. This time, Dean smiled.
"Sorry about before," Dean said, glancing at Rose in the rearview mirror. "It's been a weird day. A really weird day. But I'm not after your pal's vortex-whatever. I just want my brother back, okay?"
Cas beamed at Dean. Rose was momentarily stunned, but then she caught Dean's eye in the mirror and smiled. "So," she said, "You've decided to trust us after all?"
"You're not so bad," said Dean, shrugging. "John, too. Even your boyfriend - he drives like a maniac; I can respect that." Then he frowned and added, "I still don't like that asshole in the scarf, though."
Rose laughed. "I don't think many people do." She paused, and then leaned forward over the front bench seat to look Dean and Cas in their faces. "You really don't want the vortex manipulator?"
"We really don't," Cas assured her.
She turned to Dean. "Really?" she repeated. "You seem like the kind of man who has things in his past he'd like to change."
Dean took his eyes off the road for a few seconds to give Rose a good, hard look. Then he looked back at the road, taking a few seconds to compose his thoughts before saying, "Don't get me wrong. If I had a time machine, I'd be really, really tempted. I could save me a lot of trouble by talking to my past self for a few hours, if my past self would listen. And, yeah, there are some things I'd like to try to stop from happening. Some people I'd warn to stay away from me, for their own good. But it never seems to go as simple as you'd think. The more you try to change things, the more they stay the same." His voice, which had been dark and far away, suddenly brightened as he continued, "Besides, here and now, I've got Sam and I've got Cas. That's pretty damn good. I'm positive that there are lots of realities where I wasn't this lucky. So, no. I don't want the vortex manipulator. And if I had it, I wouldn't change a damn thing."
Rose settled back into her seat, saying, "I believe you."
A second later, Dean hit the gas and passed the van again, blasting the horn the whole way.
-----
True to Sherlock's prediction, it took them almost exactly two and a half hours to get to the town Sam had called from. They only needed to stop once for gas. Castiel and Rose went into the attached shop to get snacks; Sherlock and the Doctor stayed perched in their seats, conversing animatedly on the topic of Betelgeuse.
From where he was pumping gas into the van, John called through the window, "I thought you didn't care about astronomy."
"I do when it concerns a sentient species that may have been involved in a string of unsolved murders in the 1980s," Sherlock replied. "Do go on, Doctor."
John looked put-out enough that Dean noticed from where he was feeding a fake credit card into the next pump over. "You two are kind of co-dependent, aren't you?" he asked. John looked about ready to launch into a vehement denial, but Dean stopped him with a raised hand and, "No, no. I'm not judging. I kind of have experience in that area."
Dean called Sam again as they rolled into the little town. "Thank God you're here!" Sam said in a hushed voice. "Head to the Riverside Hotel. I'll meet you there."
"There's a river in this town?" Dean replied.
"No, that's just what they call it," whispered Sam. "Jack is in room 211. Bring a bucket of ice water to throw on him."
"Dude, why are you whispering?" Dean said, his voice involuntarily dropping to match Sam's volume.
"Because I'm at the library," said Sam. "I've been hiding out here for over two hours, and I can't go back to the hotel or Jack will try to get me to join an orgy or something."
Dean rolled his eyes. "You are literally the only person in history who would rather hang out at the library than have an orgy."
Cas, who could only hear Dean's side of the conversation, raised his eyebrows in alarm. Rose didn't look at all surprised that the conversation was taking a turn toward group sex, considering that Jack was involved.
The van followed the Impala through the twisty streets. Even though they got turned around a few times and took almost fifteen minutes to find the place, Sam was nowhere to be seen when they pulled up to the hotel.
"He's not picking up his phone," said Dean after trying Sam for the third time.
"I saw the library when we were driving the wrong way down Front street," said Cas, narrowing his eyes. "It's only three blocks away from here. Sam should be here by now."
The Doctor and John were edging toward the hotel door, eager to find Jack. Rose followed them. "Are you coming?" she called back to Dean. "We could use an extra hand, in case we run into trouble."
Dean hesitated until Cas put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll find Sam," Cas promised. "He can't be far. I'll meet you back here."
"You got enough mojo to track him down the fast way?" Dean asked.
Cas shook his head. "I'll go on foot. Don't worry, Dean. I'll find him."
Dean nodded gratefully.
"Sherlock, are you coming?" John called. Sherlock was still sitting in the passenger seat of the van and eyeing a blue Porsche that was parked across the street. As John watched, Sherlock dashed out of the van and across the street to swipe his finger along the window edge of the car. He studied his fingertip for a second, then ran back across the street to reply, "No, I think not. You have fun though." John looked baffled, but he didn't argue.
As Cas took off down the street and Sherlock installed himself back in the van, the rest of the group stormed into the lobby of the hotel. "Um," said the receptionist. "Do you want to book a room?"
The Doctor held up a slip of psychic paper in a leather holder and said, "Scotland Yard, ma'am!"
"He means FBI," Rose added as they all rushed past the stunned receptionist.
They had rounded the corner, thundered up the stairs, and made their way down the hallway to room 211 before Dean remembered what Sam had said about orgies and ice water.
"Do you think we should, you know, knock?" he wondered aloud.
After their purposeful approach, no one seemed to know what to do with that suggestion.
"I suppose?" said the Doctor.
Rose reached between Dean and John and rapped on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, louder. Still nothing.
"Screw this," said Dean, and he kicked the door in.
Because there was really no point in being subtle at that point, they all stormed in. Then they promptly stopped in their tracks at the sight of Captain Jack Harkness, naked from head to toe, handcuffed to the headboard of the bed and looking extremely nonplussed at the influx of new arrivals.
That sight was distracting enough that they almost missed the man in the crisp suit who was standing by the bed, in the process of unhooking the vortex manipulator from Jack's wrist.
"Moriarty!" John shouted, leveling his gun. Rose followed his lead, supposing that if someone as rational as John was prepared to shoot this man then he must be someone worth shooting. Dean did the same.
The Doctor peeked over their shoulders, his hands empty. He waved to Jack. "Hello!" he said. "I'm the Doctor. We spoke on the phone."
Slowly, with a long-suffering roll of his eyes, Moriarty put his hands in the air. "This is your fault," he said to Jack not-unpleasantly. "If you had just accepted my offer to go up to your room instead of insisting on drinking and flirting for hours on end, I would have been gone long before they arrived."
Jack grinned up at Moriarty from where he was shackled to the bed. "I was just enjoying your company," he replied. "If I'd known you were going to get kinky with me as soon as we went upstairs, I would have sped things up."
"Who is he?" Rose muttered to John.
"Long story," John muttered back. "Short version: clever, evil, once tried to blow me up in a swimming pool."
"What?" Dean muttered to them both.
Then Rose decided that someone ought to take control of this standoff. "Keep your guns trained on him, boys," she said, and strode toward Moriarty. She plucked the vortex manipulator neatly out of his hand. Moriarty made no move to stop her. All he did was smile, at once benign and vaguely threatening.
Rose turned away from Moriarty for just long enough to toss the vortex manipulator across the room to the Doctor. He caught it, cradling it like it was made of glass. Even watching him only out of the corner of her eye, Rose knew that his eyes must have been sparkling. She hadn't forgotten what he'd said back at the farmhouse. Now that he had the device in his hands, he might never let it go.
And Rose wasn't sure if she wanted him to. For as long as he held the thing, he was once more a master of space and time. The vortex manipulator belonged to Jack, yes, but it wasn't as if neither of them had ever stolen something before. The Doctor had originally stolen the TARDIS, after all.
The Doctor flipped the device open and, with only a second to look at its innards, he pushed one or two components back into place and clicked it closed. "Fixed. It's not pretty, but it'll work. It just needs an hour or so to recalibrate." He slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Jack had been watching the whole drama unfold around him with hardly a slip in his smile, but his eyes followed the vortex manipulator nervously as it was put away. "So you're the Doctor," he said. "I guess you really are as good as you claim. Now how about getting me out of here, unless you're into this kind of thing?"
"He's spoken for, I'm afraid," said Rose. Then, holding her hand out to Moriarty, "Key, please."
Moriarty didn't even pretend not to know what she was talking about. He just reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and handed over the key to Jack's handcuffs.
While Rose freed Jack, he smiled broadly up at her. "Can I ask who I have the pleasure of being rescued by?" he said.
"Torchwood," Rose replied brightly. "I'm Rose Tyler, by the way."
Jack's eyes swept over the Doctor, John, and Dean before returning incredulously to Rose. "You guys are Torchwood? Are they hiring from modeling agencies now?"
Rose laughed. It was good to know that Jack was the same no matter what universe they were in. She finished unlocking his handcuffs and he stood, rubbing his wrists.
"Dude," said Dean. His eyes were still on Moriarty, but Jack's full-frontal nudity was inescapably in his peripheral vision. "Do you think you could skip the sweet talk and put some clothes on?"
Jack turned and put his hands on his hips so that his groin was pushed forward. "Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?" he said with a grin.
"Stop it, all of you!" John snapped. "I don't think you appreciate just how dangerous Moriarty is." Moriarty, for his part, was still holding his hands up and looking quietly amused at the whole proceedings. John went on. "There's clearly something else going on here. Someone go down and get Sherlock; he'll know what to do."
But before anyone could think about following John's order, a voice floated in from the direction of the hallway. "Hey, Dean-o!"
Dean flinched so violently that he almost dropped his gun.
"Who…?" the Doctor wondered.
"Meg," said Dean tersely.
"Come on out, Dean!" Meg called again. "I've got something I think belongs to you."
Dean lowered his gun to his side, shoved past the Doctor, and skidded out into the hall, leaving John as the only person still covering Moriarty.
"Excuse me!" John protested.
Rose added her own weapon to the situation, pointing it straight-armed at the back of Moriarty's head. "Go!" she ordered. "Walk!" Moriarty complied, and Rose steered him out into the hall after Dean. John and the Doctor followed her. With a shrug, Jack brought up the rear.
The scene in the hallway made it immediately apparent why Dean had been in such a hurry. A bright-faced, dark-haired woman stood several yards down the hall. She was dual-wielding pistols that she held pointed at her two hostages, who were on their knees in front of her. On her left knelt Sam, sporting a bloody nose, a split lip, and a black eye. On her right was Castiel. He looked in better shape than Sam, but his hunched posture hinted at injuries hidden beneath his clothes.
A couple of doors along the hallway cracked open and curious faces appeared, drawn by the noise. The doors quickly closed again.
"Sorry, Dean," said Sam. "She got the drop on me."
Dean's gun was pointed at Meg's head, but his hand was shaking. "Let them go, Meg," he said.
Meg looked at him almost pityingly. "Aw, honey. Do you really think that's likely? Now, all of you put your guns down and kick them towards me."
Dean tightened his grip on his gun for a moment, but then the tension went out of his shoulders and he dropped it to his side, defeated. Slowly, he placed his gun on the floor and kicked it toward Meg. A glance at Rose and John silently begged them to do the same.
"I could hit her from this distance," John offered in a whisper. He wasn't keen on shooting anyone, especially when there was so much he didn't know about the situation, but if people's lives were in danger then he was ready to spring into action. Besides, he was confident that he could make a non-lethal shot.
"Wouldn't matter," Dean replied. "She's a demon. You could shoot her in the heart and it'd be about as useful as poking a bear with a stick."
"What about Moriarty?" Rose whispered, the barrel of her gun still resting between his shoulder blades. "We'll be sitting ducks."
Just then, Meg called out, "I'm waiting! Five more seconds and I'm gonna start shooting off body parts. They don't actually need ears, right? Five… four…"
Dean turned toward Rose and John one more time. "Guys…" he said.
He didn't need to say anything more. Rose and John tossed their weapons into the no-man's land between the two sides.
"Good choice," said Meg. "Now, toss me the vortex manipulator."
"What?" the Doctor snapped.
"What?" Rose echoed.
"Hey…" Jack said, holding up a finger as if to remind everyone of the actual owner of said vortex manipulator.
John glared. "Why?"
"Because that's what all of this was about," Meg groaned, rolling her eyes. "You guys are really not that bright, are you? I mean, what did you think Moriarty and I were trying to accomplish here? Get this asshole shackled to a bed?" She jerked her head toward Jack. Then her eyes did a once-over of his naked body and she added, "Actually, that wouldn't be a terrible plan."
Jack stopped looking worried about losing his vortex manipulator for long enough to look flattered.
"You want it?" said Dean. "You got it. I don't care about it anyway. Just let them go."
Meg almost did a little dance of glee. "Oh, here's the really fun part," she said. "I will let one of them go. And guess who gets to choose?"
Sam looked up at her from his position on the ground and said wryly, "You know that's probably the worst cliché you could possibly have pulled?"
"The classics are classics for a reason," said Meg. "Just look at your brother's face."
Dean could only imagine what his face looked like. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had known that this was coming as soon as he saw that both Sam and Cas had been taken hostage, but every fiber of his being had hoped that it wouldn't go that way. Now his knees felt weak as his eyes flicked frantically between his two choices.
His brother? Or the man he loved?
"Dean," Sam said gravely. "Save Castiel. I'll be fine."
Cas was quick to answer. "No, Dean! You have to save Sam."
Meg looked delighted. "I'd tell them to shut up," she said to Dean, "But I think they might actually be making this harder on you."
But then Rose stepped forward with a solution. "We'll trade you the vortex manipulator for one of them, and Moriarty for the other. He's your accomplice, right?"
"So?" said Meg, shrugging. "Kill him if you want. See if I care."
"Not to mention," Moriarty finally spoke up, "Now that your guns are over there and not pointed at me, there's really nothing to stop me from… doing this." And then, holding his arms out dramatically, as if he were performing a magic trick, he walked across the no-man's land between the two groups and installed himself behind Meg. John lurched forward once, as if he were considering tackling Moriarty before he reached safety, but he thought better of it and fell back in line.
"What's this about?" said the Doctor suspiciously. "What do a demon and a… um…"
"Consulting criminal," John supplied.
"What do a demon and a consulting criminal want with the vortex manipulator?" the Doctor finished.
Meg shrugged enigmatically. "You'll have to ask him what he wants with it," she said. "As for me, that shouldn't be too hard to figure out."
Cas turned to glare up at Meg. "You want to go back in time and use your knowledge of future events to ensure that Lucifer defeats Michael and brings about the apocalypse," he said.
"Point for the pretty one," said Meg with a smile.
John gaped for a moment before barking, "The apocalypse? She wants to start the apocalypse?" He caught Moriarty's eye. "I knew you were insane, but even you can't want the world to end!"
Moriarty, who looked bored by the whole affair, replied, "Oh, I don't. Once we get the vortex manipulator, I'll double-cross her and take it for myself." When everyone's eyes went to Meg, he added, "Oh, don't worry. She knows. She's working on her own plan to double-cross me, too."
"You think you can win against her?" asked the Doctor. "She's a demon, you know."
"Oh, like I've never dealt with demons before," said Moriarty. He reached into the collar of his shirt and fished out a thin silver chain. A pendant engraved with the anti-possession sigil dangled from the end.
"But what are you going to do if you win?" John demanded.
"When I win," Moriarty corrected. "And why on earth would I tell you and ruin the surprise? I haven't even properly decided what I'm going to do with it yet. I mean, it's time travel. I can think of fifteen ways to bring down the British government and install myself as Emperor, and I'm not even trying!"
Meg nudged him with her elbow, not looking at all concerned about his declaration of his plans to betray her. "Would you quit monologuing?" she said. "We aren't even supposed to be here. Fucking with Dean is the only thing that makes this whole mess worth it right now, and you're distracting him." She looked back at Dean, letting him know that she hadn't forgotten her challenge.
Dean had barely heard the whole conversation. He had been silent so far, desperately trying to find an alternative to the scenario Meg had laid out. Now he swallowed hard and asked, "What happens to the one I don't choose?"
"I keep him as insurance against you following me when I make my getaway," said Meg. "After that… who knows?" Her toothy smile made Dean sure that she already had a few ideas.
"Take me instead," he said, but Meg only laughed.
"You know I'm not going to let you get away with that."
As the horror of the decision settled into Dean's chest, making it feel like his lungs were collapsing, he could hear his father's voice mingling with his own, repeating the mantra that had carried him through life ever since he was four years old. Protect your brother. Sammy came first, always, in everything, before anyone.
But Cas.
But Cas.
Ashen-faced, Dean made a noise that was barely recognizable as a single, choked syllable.
"You're going to have to speak up, there," said Meg, cocking an exaggerated hand to her ear.
Dean had to try twice more before he managed to say it. "Sam," he said, "Sam. Sam. Give me Sam."
His eyes flicked to Cas, dreading the expression of betrayal that he expected to find. But Cas held Dean's gaze evenly and, as Dean watched, a ghost of a smile flitted across his face. Then Cas's eyes closed and he gave a single, deliberate nod.
He had known who Dean would pick. He had known before Dean had known. Somehow, that made it worse.
Meg shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I figured," she said, sounding bored now that the game was over. "Gimme the vortex manipulator and he's yours."
Dean was too distracted to remember where the device had gone, but Jack, John, and Rose turned to the Doctor. Their eyes dropped to his pocket. For a second he hesitated, and Dean wasn't sure if he was going to give it up.
The Doctor's hand settled over the bulging pocket protectively. Then, stiffly, it dipped inside and drew out the gleaming device in its leather strap. He clutched it, still holding it close to himself. Dean stretched out his hand for it in a way that made it clear that if the Doctor didn't hand it over, Dean would take it.
"We could rush them," the Doctor whispered. "Take them out. We don't need to play into their hands."
Dean might have listened if he hadn't known that the Doctor was more concerned with not losing the vortex manipulator than he was with keeping people alive. Instead, he just felt like punching the Doctor in the face.
"They're armed," Jack pointed out. "We're not. We can win, but not here. Not now. Not without people getting killed. And I don't really care about most of you, but I kind of like Sam, and right now it looks like we don't have very many options that don't end in Sam getting shot."
But the Doctor didn't loosen his grip until Rose leaned forward and whispered something into his ear. She spoke so softly that Dean couldn't make out a single word, but the Doctor's face fell immediately upon hearing it. Rose pulled away. The Doctor placed the vortex manipulator in Dean's hand.
Dean threw it, a spiteful fastball aimed straight at Meg's face. She snatched it out of the air easily. And true to her word, she dropped the gun aimed at Sam and kicked him toward Dean. Sam looked back quickly, but Cas shook his head. "Sammy!" Dean called out, warning him not to do anything stupid.
His face drawn in a grimace, Sam scampered across to join his brother.
Once Sam was back behind friendly lines, Dean let himself look back at Castiel. Though Dean didn't say a word, Cas smiled in understanding.
Dean's eyes rose to Meg's smiling face. "I'll send you back to Hell for this, you evil bitch."
Meg holstered both her guns and grabbed Cas around the back of the neck. "Good luck with that," she said cheerily. Moriarty put his hand on Meg's shoulder.
And in that split second before Meg, Moriarty, and Castiel disappeared into thin air, the elevator doors just to their left opened. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Sherlock Holmes stepped out of the elevator, sidled up to Moriarty, and took his hand.
With a dramatic snap of Meg's fingers, all four of them were gone.
-----
When Meg rematerialized at her destination - a conveniently abandoned convenience store in the next state over - she wobbled on her feet and nearly fell. She only managed to stay upright by using the angel as a crutch, grip tightening on the back of his neck. He grunted in pain as she leaned into him.
She had gotten so used to being juiced up on souls that it was almost painful to fall back to the level she had been at before her deal with Moriarty. Unfortunately, that last jump had taken up the last of her power boost. She was an ordinary black-eyed demon again - perhaps stronger than most, due to her parentage, but without certain extra conveniences like teleportation. She couldn't even get herself out of driving range of the Winchesters which, though she knew they had no hope of finding her, made her jumpy. Now that she was so close to completing her plan, she would have preferred to be completely out of their reach. Like Barbados. Or the moon. She would have to settle for rural Kentucky.
It was only then that she bothered to look over at Moriarty, and found the unexpected passenger at his side.
"What is he doing here?" she shrieked, after recovering from a moment of silent shock.
Moriarty shrugged, still holding Sherlock's hand and looking intensely amused at the unexpected turn of events. Sherlock was silent. He just threw Meg the kind of smarmy smile that begged to be slapped off his face.
So Meg complied, backhanding Sherlock so hard that he was knocked off his feet. He spat blood into the dust, but the grin still hovered on his lips. Meg resisted the urge to kick him. She had more important things to do.
She pulled Sherlock to his feet and checked his pockets. Aside from a pack of nicotine patches, they were empty.
"Lock them in a closet or something," she ordered, handing Moriarty her gun and holding up the vortex manipulator. "We need to figure out how to use this damned thing."
Castiel and Sherlock walked compliantly in front of Moriarty as he guided them with the barrel of his pistol. Castiel looked resigned to whatever was about to happen, but Sherlock was still smiling that infuriating smile. It didn't leave his face even as Moriarty found a cellar with a locking door and shut both the hostages inside.
Part 3