A Doctor Who and A Wayward Family Adventures (Fiction: Doctor Who / Supernatural Crossover)

[Multiverse Learner 101]

...Let's start from the very beginning.

It was around the year 1983. A tragedy struck a normal, suburban family. The Winchesters. They were your typical average folk here in Lawrence, Kansas. At least, that's on the surface.

One could hear the sirens in the distance, where a man looked from afar as he looked passed the police cars and fire trucks that arrived to survey and put the fires out of the burning house. A man called the Doctor. No, not a man, but something that cannot be from Earth, of any sort. Quite short in height and looked Scottish. His eyes were blue, though the man could change such colors anytime he wanted for good calculated measure. He wore a wrinkled cream-coloured linen suit, with a glistening silk shirt worn with a green silk cravat, and a paisley-banded white fedora.

Where to begin? Where to end? The Doctor could remember like it were only yesterday within time. He remembered. His last incarnation, the one with the ridiculous rainbow coat, was where it all truly began for him, when he crossed paths with a family of hunters called the Winchesters. The way he meets them is out of sync, from here to there. The Doctor, as of his incarnation of now, is the dastardly planner and mathematician of probabilities that he is, would find himself looking at the day, or the night, where it all began for the Winchesters.

His eyes looked at the huddled family nearby, a favored Impala, of the grieving father John, of the much younger Dean, and of the little infant Sam. The time of innocence ended in one fell swoop.

The Doctor's hand twitched within his umbrella, which he held too tightly. Why? Because he couldn't help but glance to his left. His eyes narrowed. From afar, somewhere in the deep woods of the forest, he could truly see what lay underneath the shadows. A man, standing from afar, like a predator stalking its prey, but not pouncing yet. Pale yellow eyes. Walking around an anonymous human meatsuit, long dead by prescription, from what the Doctor had judged in terms of specifics. A so-called yellow-eyed demon.

The Doctor mused a little, with a dangerous edge of a smile. "Of course you'd still be here." He muttered under his breath.

The yellow-eyed demon's glare looked straight at him, cautious and cunning, before quietly retreating somewhere else. Typical. The wolf runs away, plotting and scheming.

"...Always on the run, that one," says one unknown man's grim voice, which was also a bit Scottish. Or was it Welsh?

The Doctor looked around and... frowned. No, not frowned, unexpected, his mind couldn't even calculate in more dimensions when looking at the person standing in front of him.

He looked taller, with large brown eyes, wearing a black suit with a white collar, wrapped in a black necktie. There was also the navy black trenchcoat that he wore, which had around five silver stars on both shoulders, like he was some kind of general. But it's not his appearance that made the Doctor pause. No, it was something too otherly. He can't see him. Not in the sense of the physical. No, the metaphysical. Like he did not belong in Time, but from a duration that he could not decipher.

The Doctor couldn't help but take a cautious step back. "...Who are you?" He muttered, careful and grim.

"...I'm you, well, the final you," says the man who was also revealed to be the Doctor.

"Final you?" The Doctor, the number seven, muttered the words carefully. This was unprecedented. A future version of himself? But from where? Or when? More to the point, how come he can't see him?

"Well... sort of," the other Doctor, an unknown one, walked towards him with his hands tucked under his pockets, his voice was grim yet measured, like it was timeless. "Not really the final incarnation of the first regeneration line. Oh no, that would come later, if ever."

"If ever?" the Seventh Doctor narrowed his eyes and sharply offered a rebuke. "I never thought I'd be callous enough to reveal my own future."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing," says the Unknown Doctor, looking at him with a measured, pointed look. "It doesn't really matter what I'd say, because the future's changed."

"What?" the Seventh Doctor looked cautious.

"You heard me," the Unknown Doctor spoke grimly. "The future's changed, past me, it's been changed long before you met me here. It all started when you met the Winchesters all those years ago, when you shouldn't have met them. Since then, everything seems to click; travelling between our Earth and this one, no matter what timeframe, seems quite easy. Don't you ever find it odd? A completely different universe linked to our own?"

"And? We've travelled through other universes before with different modal properties; this should not be surprising to us anymore," the Seventh Doctor pointed out.

"Ah, but that's the thing, you're still thinking this is just a simple travel between one universe to another, from one configuration to another," the Unknown Doctor spoke softly, his eyes held something of a mystery of the ages. "When, in point of fact, what is actually happening right now is what I call sub-timeline travel."

"Sub-timeline travel?" the Seventh Doctor looked at him with inquiry. "I never heard of such a thing."

"Oh, but you wouldn't," the Unknown Doctor spoke with calm ease, like he was used to explaining this, and not for the first time. "Because not even the Time Lords could have known it. They've mastered all forms and modes of Time. But... they never really mastered Aeviternity."

"...Aeviternity?" the Seventh Doctor muttered with great care. "I've heard of that term before, something that's used as a term by men of philosophy and medieval culture to describe a time not of man but of other, but that is still something that the Time Lords have already done and mastered."

"No, that's what they think they've done and mastered; there's a very big difference," the Unknown Doctor pointed out carefully. "What you call mapping time, aeviternity, and eternity, are simply just degrees of Chronos, not Aevum, and most certainly not Eternity, which no one can truly take as if they were their own. As I said, the Time Lords had mastered all forms and modes of Time, which is Chronos. It's still limited either way."

The Seventh Doctor didn't show it, but his inwardness felt a sense of disturbance. Because he was hearing a future version of himself from a far future just... casually stating that the Time Lords' perceptions of time were, in fact, limited? That can't be...

"Forget everything you think you know, past me," the Unknown Doctor gently explained as simply as he could. "Since I'm here, this me, I would not rely on any chronology, because I'm not supposed to be here talking to you, this never happened in any so-called cycle, the moment I stepped in, I changed the rules, which means that the future can be changed, in a way that not even Time Lords could see coming. So all those future encounters with the Winchesters, from your point of view? I would not try to rely on that as a foundational basis for how you are to react when it comes to Aeviternity."

"...Why are you telling me this?" the Seventh Doctor spoke a little darkly, yet disturbed by such a revelation.

"Because you're one of the few incarnations of me who can grasp at least the scale of what I'm talking about. So, I'll let you ponder these thoughts within your dastardly mind and let you simply think about it," the Unknown Doctor explained, before he eventually decided to quietly walk away. His back turned against the Seventh Doctor, who looked as the stirrings within his twofold hearts remained shaken.

If what this future self said was true, then what even is Time for him? He has fought gods and demons of every sort, but this? This felt like either a new kind of discovery or a darker adventure that can test him in ways that no one has ever tested him before.

As these thoughts stretched before him, the presence of the Unknown Doctor grew too far for the Seventh Doctor to look, not just in terms of physical and metaphysical distance, but of a kind unlike any other, which would need to make him reconsider everything.

What if everything about Time was always the wrong understanding of Time?

 

[Multiverse Learner 101]

...It was the year 2008.

For what felt like forty long years. Dean Winchester would slowly rise up out of the grave. His breath tried to gasp for air, as he slowly tried to make his way up from wherever he was. He pushed through the dirt that buried him five feet under. His hands grasp whatever rock he could. Until finally, he could glimpse a little of the sunlight as his hand pushed out from the ground.

Then...

He felt a hand stretched out to gently pull him up.

"I've got you, Dean, hold on."

His breath groaned. His eyes tried to look up. What he saw was a very familiar face. Brown hair. Brown eyes. The Doctor. Had that same face that kept saying "Allons-y.". Though his wardrobe looked different. A dark overcoat, with five silver stars on both shoulders. Wears a suit, straight out of some Men in Black movie.

"...Do...Doctor..." He muttered, tired and worn out. He could still feel what felt like spiritual scars stitching underneath his own soul. He never thought that he could feel the air again. He could still recall the countless nights of torture for forty years. It never stopped. It never could.

"Don't speak. You're tired," the Doctor spoke softly, as he held Dean by his waist and lifted his arm to support the latter. The Doctor quietly moved, slowly, because Dean was still a little weaker.

Just nearby, there was that familiar blue box. "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX". It was those same words that Dean used to remember back when he was just a kid. Even back when he was trying to be some hero, as if that was the same thing as hunting monsters, this place, the TARDIS, it's that one place that he could at least get back to.

The Doctor snapped his fingers as the TARDIS doors brushed open. They went inside, and Dean glanced and saw... bigger. Even bigger than what he was used to. It looked more like a building than a console room. Elevators and escalators were somewhere around the sides. There were circles on the wall that held a white color, glowing light in black, like it was a 1960s TV set. The main console was... actually, there was more than one, and Dean couldn't even tell which was the main one.

There were three main consoles. The Doctor gently sat Dean down in a chair and grabbed a cup nearby, drawing out water before giving it to Dean. "Drink up, Dean, you're dehydrated." He asked.

If this were back then, Dean would have joked about doctor's orders, but this wasn't really the time to joke. Not now. Not when he just escaped from Hell. He drank the cup before setting it down somewhere. He glanced towards the Doctor, who looked intently at the screen that held planet symbols, some kind of alien language, probably Gallifreyan.

"...The hell took so long, Doc?" Dean muttered after a long moment of silence.

The Doctor didn't respond. He let Dean continue talking.

"...How...?" Dean asked, tired yet a little sober to at least desire some kind of answer.

"...I'm not really the one who took you out of Hell, Dean," the Doctor spoke grimly.

"...What?" Dean asked, surprised. "But... But how..."

"...Though I know what took you," the Doctor looked at him with an empathetic gaze, arms crossed, as he leaned on the console. "I'm just not sure if you're quite ready to believe me."

"...Doc, I've known you since I was a kid," Dean muttered, tired. "What the hell is so bad that I wouldn't believe it?"

The Doctor sighed heavily. "An angel took you out of Hell, Dean."

Dean blinked, his throat tightening. The word angel stung worse than any brand of the Pit.

"But I never said it was the real deal," the Doctor added quietly.

A long period of silence reigned inside the console. Dean slowly blinked, trying to process what he just heard. Before he could say anything, the Doctor stopped him with a grim tone that made him straighten his back.

"Before I continue the discussion," the Doctor had his hands in his pockets as he walked towards Dean and spoke gently. "Let me ask you this. What do you think angels really are? I'm talking literally here, and I need you to work with me, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth, before closing it, frowning in deep thought. Then he spoke lamely. "Umm... guardian guys with wings and haloes I guess? Some kind of kumbaya, where they dress like church choirs. You know, God is good, all is right with the world?"

The Doctor sighed heavily, before sitting down in a nearby chair. "Yeah, that's what I thought. This is a problem. That's more like an American adaptation you're talking about, Dean, not the real deal."

"...Well, excuse me, Doc, I'm not exactly a nerd like Sam is," Dean muttered, a little annoyed.

"Anyway, about angels," the Doctor spoke grimly, looking at Dean, who shut up completely because the way the Doctor looked, he wasn't in the joking mood. "This is where it get's complicated, and it's something that not even most of my past incarnations ever knew about, even when investigating this reality. For starters, let's start with the ones my past incarnations know about. Dean, in your universe, there are... shall we say, so-called angels if you will. For the past millennia of your universe, they've interacted with plenty. These are... I suppose, extradimensional beings of celestial intent. To fully interact with the mortal plane, they're going to have to ask for permission from someone, usually devout religious and good-intentioned folk, specific humans, if you will, that are chosen as vessels to contain them."

"You mean like possession?" Dean looked at the Doctor darkly.

"Yeah," the Doctor spoke grimly. "Not like most of them have a choice. Either that or... well, they pretty much blind humanity with their own form. Humanity's senses aren't really attuned to their level of extradimensionality. You'd burn your eyes on the spot just by looking at their form."

"...So what the hell do these so-called angels want?" Dean asked grimly, a little disturbed by the implications.

"That's another story for the time being," the Doctor spoke grimly. "Now, we get to the real deal, something most of my past selves don't know. The actual ones. The real angels. They... are real, Dean. More real and gentler than you can ever imagine," the Doctor's voice grew even softer.

Dean couldn't help but stop to look at the Doctor, as if he couldn't believe what he just heard.

"The thing about your world, Dean... It's broken... in more ways than one..." the Doctor spoke softly. "Yes, I'm aware that you already know that, but there's a deeper meaning on the surface besides random chaos. Your world, or rather, your multiverse... it never really knew the real deal. All those stories in your world's Bible, it's not even the real Bible, not even close. The stories in your world's Bible point to truths—but the text itself, the cosmology it names, isn't the original pattern. It's like a reflection in rippling water—true in outline, distorted in motion."

"...What are you talking about, Doc?" Dean asked, feeling a little uncomfortable and troubled by this information.

"...I'm saying Dean... that almost nobody in your world, either demons... or even the angels... ever really knew they were never the real deal. Not one of them even knew the real morning stars. Your world... is just one of countless that had been denied that. That's why you're world's broken, Dean. This is a world... that kicked the GOD who is LOVE out, not because He's powerless, but because of free will, which He always respects with a heavy heart. And what remained active here instead... are just false lights and false darknesses, too long to list."

Dean felt his heart drop at this revelation. It almost felt like everything was clicking, and he didn't like it. It almost felt like it made too much sense.

"So... whatever lore your world has about angels and demons, Dean, it's all just describing beings who genuinely think they are angels and demons. But little do they know that they're just playing cat and mouse, distorted reflections of things that are truer than any reality could ever convey," the Doctor spoke grimly. "That is the tragedy that I often see, when travelling not in time, but in aevum. When I cross into aevum, Dean, time doesn't pass. It simply is. Every moment shines like a jewel, unmelting. That's where your world's reflection cracks—its angels move in time, which means they're dying."

A silence fell. Dean couldn't talk. He shook with a silent dread. It was like hearing that the sky he'd lived under was only painted on the ceiling of Hell."

"...So you were actually right in a way, Dean. This world is a world of monsters. But you missed the entire reason why this world is even a world of monsters to begin with," the Doctor spoke sadly. "My world... is also the same. A world of monsters. Yours and mine both have uncaring cosmic gods and lesser malevolent daemons. But they never really knew the real hierarchy. Everything, inverted as power, instead of Love. I had a very, very long time reflecting on this, Dean, so I didn't just stumble into it just recently. It's been one part of me that's haunted me ever since. Now, I travel... but now, I know why gods were uncaring. Because the gods only knew power, not Love, never Love, because they don't know," the Doctor spoke grimly.

Dean felt a heavy intensity on his chest, like a lump forming over. He couldn't dare talk. His mind was quiet in its horror. His world of monsters finally had a reason. And that reason disturbed him more than any damned torture or hellfire.

 

[Multiverse Learner 101]

The Singer Salvage Yard.

Your typical hang around for the Winchesters. Really, the only other place one could call home.

"...Gah! Damn it!"

The old seasoned hunter and good man in the business, Bobby Singer, was now on the floor. The silver knife he was using had been dislodged immediately. Why? Well, let's start from the beginning. It all started when two familiar idjit faces showed up at his own damn front door. Naturally, he had thought these were just monsters wearing familiar faces. But then, the man who knocked him on the floor, the Doctor, basically started blabbing to him about something like the quantum physics of a specific throw that miscalculated into the trajectory, or something in technical scientific.

...Alright, fine, this is the Doctor, no questions asked. Not even a shapeshifter or a revenant would waste damn time trying to explain freaking numbers to him. What was really shocking him out however, was Dean.

He should be dead. No, he should be in Hell. So why is he somehow here?

Dean had the good sense to grab the silver knife on the floor, in case more proof was needed, and said, "Alright, so... if I were some monster running around wearing a dead guy's face, would I do this with a silver knife?", and he showed concrete legit proof, as he didn't hesitate to cut a little into his shoulder, red blood of a real lived human. Afterwards, the Doctor splattered holy water in Dean's face, which made him look annoyed.

"Really, Doc?" Dean said with a deadpanned tone, looking a little wet on the face.

"What? I'm doing it too, aren't I?" says the Doctor, as he sprayed himself a little with the holy water that he got from a nearby table.

The first thing, of course, that Bobby did was hug Dean for dear life. The second thing was trying to catch up on what the hell just happened. Bobby told him everything - the gist of it at least - of what happened ever since he died, all while the Doctor was just exploring the house like he owned the damn place. Typical Time Lord idjit. Doesn't matter what face he wears, they're all annoying as hell.

Anyway, Bobby explained to Dean that he hadn't seen Sam for months. He tried to find him, as best as he could, but... well, he and Sam were hit pretty hard that Dean was gone, and was in Hell, so that was the worst. Dean... looked a little worse for wear as he sat on the sofa, mulling over what Bobby said. At that point, Bobby noticed something off. If it were any other day, he'd have figured that Dean would yell at him for not keeping an eye on Sam. But something told Bobby that this was important.

"Hey, you alright, Dean?" Bobby asked. He kind of figured that Hell probably did a number on him; that's why he was a little silent.

But Dean opened his mouth, and... he couldn't talk. He sighed heavily, like a load was on his shoulders. "...Yeah, no." He shook his head. "No, Bobby, I'm not alright, not after what the Doc just told me." He said, while glancing at the Doctor, who leaned towards the wall, with arms crossed, and kept watch without saying a word.

"What the Doctor told ya?" Bobby looked incredulously at the silent Doctor before looking back at Dean.

Dean breathes another sigh before saying. "...Yeah. So buckle up, cause, it's heavy."

And then, he started to explain... everything. As much as he could wrap his head around it. He never left out the details. Turns out, the real reason their world sucked balls? The real Man Upstairs was virtually kicked out of their own universe a long, long time ago, not because he got ganked by something stronger or stuff like that. No, it was something about free will, basically, that's all this was truly about. Man Upstairs apparently has a bleeding heart for choosing His own children's decisions and He ain't gonna force them to choose Him.

Then, Dean started explaining more things, things that not even Bobby had ever considered before in his long hunting career. All those demons that they and pretty much every hunter had been hunting? Cosplayers, the lot of them, who didn't even know they were acting the part. Whatever angels or gods exist in this world? Also cosplayers. All of their religions here on their planet were a literal joke and not the real deal. Hell. Heaven. The entire shebang. All of it was basically running on the hide and reputation of the real deal hierarchy of things, the ones actually in charge, and most, if not all of the monsters, were completely unaware of it. Even their world's damn Bible was all kinds of wrong.

Dean... just felt like he was just done, while looking like he got kicked in the face while explaining all of this. Can't blame the kid, Bobby thought grimly. Imagine that you were kinda right all along... but more horribly right, because the real reason the world's full of monsters? Because GOD couldn't step into a universe that never wanted Him to begin with.

"...So let me get this straight," Bobby walks around and glances with a side eye at the silent Doctor. "You're telling me that the Catholics were right all along about GOD?"

"Well, if you mean your world's Roman Catholic Church, I'd suppose they got most of the details right. Dogma. Doctrine. But... again, considering that the God that's in charge here isn't really the GOD, the Roman Catholic Church of your world is a mere shadow of the real Catholic Churches I've seen in my aevum travelling. Like I said to Dean, your world's pretty much part of a long, long rippling effect of a fallout that's far older than Time itself," the Doctor spoke grimly.

"What kind of fallout?" Bobby asked grimly, feeling the seriousness of this topic.

"Yeah, so..." the Doctor started to bring out a Catholic Bible of sorts, which he placed on the table, opening it up. "Look to this chapter." He pointed towards Isaiah 14. Dean and Bobby looked at the red highlights, specifically one that talks about something from the Book of Isaiah, with red highlights...

"How you have fallen from the heavens, O Lucifer Helel ben Shachar! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low! You said in your heart, "I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the morning stars; I will sit on the mount of assembly on the heights of Zaphon; I will ascend to the top of the clouds, I will be like the Most High. But you are brought down to Hell, to the depths of the Pit. Those who see you will stare at you, and ponder over you; is this the man who made the earth tremble, who shook kingdoms, who made the world like a desert and overthrow its cities, who would not let his prisoners go home? All of the kings of the nations lie down in glory, each in his own tomb; but you are cast out, away from your grave, like loathsome carrion, clothed with the dead, those pierced by the sword, who go down to the stones of the Pit, like a corpse trampled underfoot. You will not be joined with them in burial, because you have destroyed your land, you have killed your people."

"...You've got to be kidding me," Dean muttered grimly and disturbed, as he noticed the term "Lucifer Helel ben Shachar".

"Oh, I wish," the Doctor sported a sad, grim smile. "But it is what it is, Dean. Now see here, look at the way this verse explains pretty much the entire character of none other than the real deal, the Tragedy himself."

"Tragedy? You call the Devil a Tragedy?" Bobby gave the Doctor a deadpanned look, but he was hiding his own privy, disturbed sense that stirred into his thoughts.

"Yes, because that's exactly what he is," the Doctor explained grimly. "An Unkillable Evil that cannot die because he made death embedded within aeviternity, the one who really began Hell, because he is Hell, he crafted it from his own privation and never came truly from GOD."

"Wait, hold on... GOD didn't make Hell?" Dean muttered, genuinely shocked.

"Guess they never really taught you that in this world's Sunday School, but yes, GOD never has and never wanted Hell; it was never part of Plan A, free will chose that instead. Dean, it was always free will, freely chosen, no coercion, broke GOD's heart as a result," the Doctor spoke grimly, while tracing the scripture verses with his hands. "And as for the real Hell, it was never a place, not compared to where you crawled out from, Dean, it's a state, if you will, one that's just so cut off from everything, a self-imposed radically inverted exile, a complete Outer Darkness where your will is fixed into absolute un-mercy. But even in Hell, GOD is still there, but that in and of itself is the Tragedy, because there's no escaping GOD, and that's how the real Damned are haunted, because they know they've just rejected Love completely, but they will never take their decision back and are stuck in that state of their own free will, forever."

Dean flinched a little. When the Doctor said it like that, it felt like it was worse than torture. Dean could get the idea of torture because he's been to Hell, or the Hell of his universe, for crying out loud. But what the Doctor was describing was... something that he couldn't even want to imagine or picture in his head. Being stuck as an absolute, merciless monster that hates everything, forever?

Bobby sighed heavily, pinching his eyes out, saying. "Alright, something tells me that there's more to this than just some simple catechical lecture, Doctor. Something's coming, isn't it?"

"...Oh, Bobby," the Doctor was a little sad, even with his smile. "That something had already been here, hiding in plain sight. The thing is, you've been hunting the worst of the worst all of your lives, but not once did you ever stop to wonder, what if there was a worst of the worst that didn't even need to do anything, because they already controlled everything, all of it, the entire universe and your multiverse beyond."

"...What are we talking here, Doc?" Dean spoke grimly, still reeling from the info.

"Well, here's the whole thing that's about to go down," the Doctor explained grimly as he brought out a few photos that had men in office suits and jackets on the table. Dean and Bobby narrowed their eyes and checked. "Right now, the angels of your world have completely mobilized their garrisons all over the planet. They're... preparing something, Dean, something that could, if the dominoes are right, would spell doom for your whole planet, an Apocalypse basically."

Both Dean and Bobby were completely silent. Dean would ask, hesitantly. "I'm sorry... the Apocalypse?"

"Well, the apocalypse of your world, but semantics, I suppose," the Doctor explained grimly. "But the thing is, you're gonna have a lot more problems than a simple apocalypse going down. My world and yours, here and now, are at a critical junction point. Whatever happens here from this moment forward could determine your planet's own future, while it may also affect my Earth's own future, whether on the side of Heaven or Hell, and you and your brother are the central pieces to this war."

"What, Dean and Sam?" Bobby frowned in concern. "Why? Why them?"

The Doctor was silent for a little bit before he started to talk. "...You know all those problems Sam had with demon blood?" He asked grimly.

Dean and Bobby paid close attention. "Yeah, what about it?" Bobby asked.

"...That wasn't random," the Doctor spoke grimly. "There's a very good reason why Azazel wanted your brother to be fed his blood. Sam's always been a favorite, because well... remember what I told you, Dean, how the angels of your world can only possess people if they have permission?"

Dean connected the dots, bit by bit, and... he didn't like it. He hated it already. "...You're telling me my brother is being fed with demon blood just because he's perfect for an angel meatsuit."

"Pretty much, yeah," the Doctor nodded. "But not just any angel. It's your world's Lucifer."

Dean and Bobby turn silent, looking at each other in shock. Dean looked back at the Doctor and asked in gritted concern. "Lucifer?"

"Yeah, but not the real deal, Dean," the Doctor shook his head grimly. "The real Lucifer doesn't need a vessel to act. He doesn't need to fight because he's pretty much owned your multiverse when it's completely rejected it's GOD. You put the GOD who is Love out, and you're left with something to fill in the vacuum, something that cannot die, because the real Lucifer is the one who started death." He said, while flipping the Bible towards a specific passage from the Book of Wisdom.

"Thus they reasoned, but they were led astray, for their wickedness blinded them, and they did not know the secret purposes of God, nor hoped for the wages of holiness, nor discerned the prize for blameless souls; for God created us for incorruption, and made us in the image of his own eternity, but through the devil's envy death entered the world, and those who belong to his company experience it."

Dean and Bobby were frowning and twitching over their fingers, turning paler. What the hell are they dealing with here?

The Doctor flipped the book back to Isaiah and read it. "How you have fallen from the heavens, O Lucifer Helel ben Shachar! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low!" He said, while looking them both in the eye. "Dean, don't be fooled by any distraction, not even this world's Lucifer could compare with the real one, a Monster in every unimaginable sense of the word. The heavens that this Monster fell from were the Abode of the True Holy Angels, the First Heavens, long before the first dawn of Creation, and with it, all spiritual orders and all material orders. How are you cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low? It's not talking about just planet Earth, Dean, we're talking about entire civilizations long before Adam, and much, much longer before your universe even began. This Monster has manipulated the rise and fall of entire civilizations, much more advanced than you and I could ever dare imagine, temporal races that predate even my own people, and many of those civilizations followed him willingly in rebellion."

Then the Doctor flipped the book to Revelation and showed the passage, pointing to it with his finger.

"A great portent appeared in heaven: a Woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. She was pregnant and was crying out in birth pangs, in the agony of giving birth. Then another portent appeared in heaven: a great red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns, and seven diadems on his heads. His tail swept down a third of the stars of heaven and threw them to the earth. Then the dragon stood before the woman who was about to bear a child, so that he might devour her child as soon as it was born. And she gave birth to a son, a male child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron. But her child was snatched away and taken to God and to his throne; and the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God, so that there she can be nourished for one thousand two hundred sixty days."

"His tail swept down a third of the stars of heaven and threw them to the earth," the Doctor spoke solemnly yet grimly, looking at the two in the eye. "Do you suppose that the Evangelist who wrote this was talking about just the angels? No, it was talking about not just the fallen, but entire civilizations were swept under the rebellion. There, you get the real meaning behind the Flood, the one with Noah, but this is not the Flood of your world, no, I'm talking about something much, much darker. The Flood wasn't an angry god seeing wickedness, it was a grieving Father that saw that humanity was at the brink of annihilation from otherworldly powers, and the Flood was the only thing that kept humanity from being completely extinct."

Then the Doctor flipped the book to 1 Peter and showed another passage, pointing to it with his finger, with highlights.

"For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, in which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the building of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were saved through water. And baptism, which this prefigured, now saves you—not as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God, with angels, authorities, and powers made subject to him."

Dean looked at the passage with hard-edged eyes. Something was making him twitch. He looked at the Doctor, and back at the passage, then back at him again.

"...Dean, the real GOD had already gone to Hell. All of it. Everything. Including the Hell of the Damned, the real one. He got everyone out during what Catholics would often call when reciting their Apostles Creed, the Descent into Hell. As for the Hell of the Damned, well, it's the only state where the souls there completely reject Him of their own free will, but even there, He never left them alone," the Doctor spoke grimly.

Dean looked at the passages again, and... something made him keep looking at these words as if they were starting to give him some clarity. Bobby, while feeling the gravity of these words, spoke up grimly. "...While all this is interesting, Doc, how does any of this relate to right now?"

"It has everything to relate to right now, because now, now we know the whole truth," the Doctor spoke grimly.

"What truth?" Bobby asked, while Dean was looking at the passage as he traced the verse with his hand.

"...That no matter what happens, the real Hell's already been defeated by GOD Himself, and now... now, we can resist whatever gods and demons lurked around every corner of your world, because we have something they don't. Hope. Hope for a Tomorrow that never needed Hell and never let it be the final word, that will be our main context for whatever plan we're going to make," the Doctor spoke grimly.

Dean was quietly gripping the Bible, and tears flowed down his cheek. He tried to fight it, of course, tried to act tough, but... he couldn't fully stop himself from at least shedding a tear.

Then, the Doctor quietly and gently turned the page of the book, and there was Genesis that showed a passage.

"Cush became the father of Nimrod; he was the first on earth to become a mighty warrior. He was a mighty hunter before the Lord; therefore it is said, "Like Nimrod a mighty hunter before the Lord." The beginning of his kingdom was Babel, Erech, and Accad, all of them in the land of Shinar. From that land he went into Assyria, and built Nineveh, Rehoboth-ir, Calah, and Resen between Nineveh and Calah; that is the great city."

Dean felt his breath taken away when he read this specific verse highlighted. He looked at the Doctor, who spoke firmly and encouragingly.

"...Hunters weren't really random, Dean," the Doctor said. "They never were. The first hunters of your planet, and other planets in your multiverse, whether they knew it or not...it wasn't just one random initiative of the few. It was a vocation. An office. One that was secretly left behind by the real LORD, so that one day... one day, the real LORD, through the hunters, will take back the world He loves, one soul at a time. GOD never abandoned this world. He was already fighting within it, through all of you, with boots on the ground, because believe it or not, GOD Himself was the First Hunter, and He's still hunting."

Bobby quietly gulped, feeling like he had just been given a whole new set of duties to bear, his hands felt like gripping to any gun or weapon he could use, just to keep himself grounded.

Dean looked at the scripture verse for the first time with new eyes. Something in him felt just right. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. All of that... there was a purpose. It was a secret rallying cry. GOD was taking their world back, little by little, bit by bit, until all of the monsters everywhere were finally gone. He took a deep sigh. He's been to Hell, tortured people, he could still recall the pain he endured, but all of that... knowing this... it was worth it, knowing that everything did actually was worth a damn soul.

"...Where to we start, Doc?" Dean spoke grimly; his tone was steel.

If GOD Himself wants the hunters to save people and gank monsters so that their world could finally be free, then he'll be the first in line to do just that.