A/N:

So this is a new thing I am working on. It is a crossover between Supernatural and Doctor Who. This is the first chapter, but it will switch between Supernatural and Doctor Who until they meet. I will continue it if it gets reviews, so read and review!

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!

Chapter 1: Tampa, Florida: The Case.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said. He had been searching for a case for about a week now, and Dean could tell that he finally found something worth checking out. He got up and walked over to Sam.

"Whatchya got, Sammy?" Dean asked, leaning over Sam'sshoulder.

"Tampa, Florida. People have been disappearing into thin air, then re-appearing a few hours later."

"So, what, you thinking alien abductions or something? Maybe they just got lost," Dean snorted. He was mocking Sam, and Sam didn't find it funny.

"Very funny," Sam said, rolling his eyes at Dean's immaturity. "Get this, though. When they re-appear, it's in graves marked with their names, and dates that are way in the past. Like, one of them had the date of death as March 4, 1903. That would mean he was alive in the 1800's, which isn't possible if he was still kicking in 2012."

Dean was now vaguely interested. "So you're thinking….what? Time travel? I hate time travel…" Dean faked a small wince. The last time they dealt with time travel, Cronos had trapped Dean in the 1940's, and he really didn't want to be in that predicament again.

"So, are you thinking maybe some ancient Greek god, feeding on people's un-lived years or something?"

"Not sure," Sam said, "but it's worth checking out."

"Yeah, baby! Florida, here we come!"

After a twenty-four hour trip, Sam and Dean finally arrived In Florida. It was the middle of July, so the heat was almost unbearable. Even the Winchesters, who had both been to Hell and back, shed off their heavy coats and stowed them in the Impala's trunk. Sam wiped some sweat from his brow and breathed out heavily.

"I wasn't expecting it to be this hot," he complained, wishing he had bought some Florida-worthy clothes.

Quit your bitchin', Sam," Dean said. He walked into the check-in building to the motel they were going to be staying at.

"Need a double room," he told the clerk.

"Sure you boys don't want a single room?" the clerk asked, eyeing them curiously.

"Brothers. We are BROTHERS," Dean said, a little agitated. He turned to Sam. "Why do they always think we're gay?" The attendant rolled his eyes and ran Dean's credit card, then went to the office behind him to grab the room key.

Sam chuckled. This had been happening their whole hunting careers. Pretty much every hotel attendant they had ever dealt with assumed they were a couple.

"Here you are," the attendant said, handing Dean the room key. "Room 219A." Dean grabbed the key from the guy's hand and stormed out of the check-in lobby.

"We should go talk to the families, Dean. Maybe they know something that wasn't in the news or in the police reports."

"Whatever. Let's just get inside, it's boiling out here," Dean replied, sounding a little more than annoyed.

They walked inside the motel room and put down their duffle bags on the separate beds. Sam started digging out his "FBI" suit. Dean did the same. They changed, grabbed their fake ID's, and left the motel.

Sam pulled out his notebook. "The first address is 4425 Meadow Street. The Smiths. Loretta Smith reported her husband, Roger, missing the other day after a walk in the gardens down town. She says he just disappeared into thin air, and then she found his death anniversary article in the obits in the local newspaper. Apparently, he died in 1945."

It took about ten minutes to get to the residence. Dean pulled into the driveway and turned off the Impala.

"Well, here we go," he said, getting out of the car. Sam followed. They walked up the walkway and knocked on the door.

The door opened. "Hello, Mrs. Smith," Sam started. "I'm Agent Ruse, and this is my partner, Agent Stark. We're from the FBI." They flipped their fake badges. "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about your husband's disappearance?"

Mrs. Smith looked confused. "I already gave my statement to the police," she said.

"We know, but we need our own statement. It's just part of the federal investigation," Sam told her. She sighed, then nodded reluctantly.

"Please, come in. Take a seat anywhere," she told them, sitting down in an armchair. Sam and Dean sat down on the couch opposite her.

"Mrs. Smith, we know this must be a hard time for you, but we really appreciate your cooperation. Now, can you tell us what happened when your husband disappeared?"

"Well," Mrs. Smith started. "It was Wednesday of last week. We were bored, and it was a nice day, so we decided to go for a walk in the park. The gardens are beautiful during the summer, so we decided to go for a picnic. I was looking at some flowers about five feet away from Roger, and he was admiring a statue that stood in the middle of a flower bed. He was saying how beautiful it was, surrounded by flowers. It was a statue of an angel woman, crying into her hands…" She trailed off.

"What happened next?" Dean asked.

"I noticed he hadn't spoken in a few minutes, so I turned around to make sure he was okay. When I turned around, he was gone. I called his cell phone to see where he had gone, but I could hear it ring. So I looked around and it was on the ground next to the flower bed. Roger was gone."

Sam and Dean could tell Mrs. Smith was having a hard time telling the story again, but they needed to know what happened next.

"Is there anything else? Did you notice anything weird in the area? Maybe an odd feeling, or the smell of sulfur?" Dean asked

"No, no smells or feelings, but when I looked up to look at the statue Roger was looking at, it wasn't there. It had been there the moment before, but when I looked back, it was gone, as was Roger. I didn't mention this to the police. I thought they would think me to be crazy. I am not crazy."

"We believe you, Mrs. Smith," Sam said. He gave her a small smile before looking at Dean. They were both thinking the same thing. A statue that kills people? Neither of them had ever heard of such a thing, but they could make some calls. Maybe one of their contacts knew what they were dealing with.

"Is there anything else you can tell us, Mrs. Smith? Anything at all?" Dean asked.

"Well, there is one more thing. I received a letter the day Roger disappeared. It was signed by him, but it was dated September 2, 1945. At first, I thought it was a cruel prank. But the next day, I found the death anniversary article in the paper, and I knew it was true."

"Do you still have the letter? Can we see it?" Sam asked. Mrs. Smith nodded and rose from her chair. She went into the kitchen. When she came back, she was holding an envelope that looked a million years old.

"The post man came with it that day. He said that it had been sitting at the post office since 1945 with a request to deliver it here, on the day it was delivered. Everyone thought it was rather odd, but they obeyed the request and gave it to me." She handed the letter to Sam. "Will I get it back when your investigation is through?"

"Of course. We will give it back. Promise." Sam smiled at her, and then stood up. Dean mimicked him and stood up as well.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Smith. We will be in touch. If you need anything from us, don't hesitate to call." Dean handed her a small business card with their "agent" names and their cell phone numbers on it.

"Thanks," she said. "I'll show you to the door."

Once they were out of ear shot, they began to discuss what they could be dealing with.

"This has something to do with time travel. But what kind of fucking statues do they have in this town that can send people back in time?" Dean said.

"I don't know, man, but we better figure it out soon before someone else gets snatched."