fannishliss (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fannishliss) wrote2011-12-13 07:09 am
fannishliss) wrote2011-12-13 07:09 am
Entry tags:
Meme!
Tell me about a story I haven't written and I'll give you 1-3 sentences of or about it.
BTW have fun with cracky responses to other people's prompts, my LJ can be like the mystical funplace that Wash's dinosaurs look out over calling it "Our Land!"
(yes I know I have a lot of prompts to fill. I'm very grateful to all of you who left prompts. They are actually coming along very nicely!)
BTW have fun with cracky responses to other people's prompts, my LJ can be like the mystical funplace that Wash's dinosaurs look out over calling it "Our Land!"
(yes I know I have a lot of prompts to fill. I'm very grateful to all of you who left prompts. They are actually coming along very nicely!)
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"Yes," the Doctor said. "She's a Tardis. Good call, Dean!"
"And that's why we've always been able to carry our whole lives around in our trunk?" Sam asked.
"Yes, Sam! Very good! What a quick study."
The mad Englishman clapped his hands together and rocked back and forth from toe to heel.
"Any you're saying our Dad -- was a -- a -- a Time Lord?"
"Yes. It's all a bit vague -- war trauma you know -- but apparently directly following the Time War I regenerated and went back to the early seventies, where I convinced your mother I was a civilian called John Winchester. Smith has been getting rather old you know."
Dean had had enough. "You-- you-- barmy limey git!" He choked, furious.
"Dean!" Sam hissed. "What are you even saying!"
"I don't know! But it's supposed to be rude and British!" Dean hissed back.
"Boys!" the Doctor roared.
Instinctively both Winchesters snapped to attention.
Dean's jaw dropped. "How'd you DO that?" he asked, astonished.
The Doctor lowered his voice by an octave. "I am your father, Dean."
"Oh my god," Dean said. He staggered over to the trunk of the Impala and leaned heavily against her.
"See? You instinctively seek out your Tardis for comfort. Wait till you fly her through time and space!"
"I. DON'T. FLY." Dean gritted out.
The Doctor decided to give Dean an opportunity to let things sink in.
"Sam. Didn't you always realize you were different -- special? like you were meant for a better life?"
Tight-lipped, Sam nodded very slightly.
"All kids think that," the Doctor said seriously. "But you! Also psychic! Also, with premonitions about where to be and when? hey? hey? And weren't you always very very clever?"
Sam nodded.
"Haven't you ever asked yourselves if it isn't just a little bit improbable how many times you've died and regenerated?"
"We didn't re whatever - regenerate -- " Dean spat. "We just came back from the dead. A lot."
The Doctor shrugged. "Whatever you want to call it."
The Winchesters glared; the Doctor smiled.
After a long pause, Dean finally gestured to the man in the fez and bowtie.
"So that's where you get the hair, Sammy," Dean smirked.
"Dean!"
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OMFG - you just owned that.
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