Domo Arigato, Mr Roboto

Chapter One

"Dude, you're not gonna believe this one."

Dean looked up from his bacon and eggs, eyebrows raised.

"Remember that shifter a few years back, who took on the forms of classic movie monsters?"

Dean swallowed. "No way I'd forget that freak," he said.

"Well," said Sam, turning the laptop screen so that his brother could see it. "I think we may have another one. Several reports have been filed of Darth Vader sightings, all in the same town: Thermopolis, Wyoming."

Dean snorted. "Probably just some dude in a costume."

Sam shook his head. "That's what they all thought too, until they saw him cutting through things with a genuine lightsaber."

"So...a shifter who's some kind of genius engineer?"

Sam shrugged. "There have been reports of strange weather patterns and animals acting weird, too. Whatever's happening, it seems to be our kind of problem."

Dean nodded. "Then I guess we're going Vader hunting."

Sam thought it might be a good thing to take on a more normal kind of hunt. Get their minds off of demon tablets and the trials for a while. Or get Dean's mind off of it, at least. He'd been giving Sam worried looks ever since he'd learned about the first trial's effect on Sam, and he was getting antsy about Kevin translating the rest of the tablet. Not to mention the whole thing with Cas.

"Yup," he said, smiling. "Vader hunting."

Thermopolis was even more isolated than most of the small towns they visited, surrounded by pristine wilderness. It really wasn't the sort of place you'd expect to hear about people wielding working laser swords in perfect Darth Vader costumes.

They followed up on the people who had reported the sightings, and all of them pointed them in the direction of an abandoned old farmhouse on the outskirts of town.

The Vader lookalike was standing in broad daylight when they reached it.

Dean couldn't quite hide how impressed he was as he scanned the maybe-shifter's Vader. Sam would've shared the sentiment, if he didn't have the mental equivalent of a siren going off in his head.

You could almost say that he had a bad feeling about this.

"Dude," said Dean, grinning. "That is awesome. You've got the breathing down and everything. I'm almost sad that I've gotta gank you."

Sam inched forward, silver knife poised defensively. "Pretty stupid to walk around in broad daylight like that," he said. "You didn't think that hunters would catch up with you?"

The shifter - or whatever - crossed his arms. "You appear to be mistaken about my identity," he said, in a voice that didn't sound right at all.

It was deep, to be sure, but sounded nothing like James Earl Jones. Instead, it was genuinely artificial - like the maybe-shifter was speaking through a vocoder. Odd, considering how accurate every other part of the portrayal seemed to be.

With a jerk, the knife was ripped out of Sam's hand and flung hard to thunk into the wood of a nearby shed.

"But perhaps you may be of some use to me," said the Vader look-alike.

Who couldn't be a shifter, because shifters didn't have telekinesis. Unless this one was...possessed?

Sam had never once encountered a demon possessing a monster. He wasn't even sure that they could.

But...the alternative was insane.

"No way," said Dean, having apparently reached the same conclusion.

The Vader look-alike reached out a hand, and Dean was suddenly dangling in the air, clutching at his throat. The cyborg had evidently taken Dean's expression of disbelief as a refusal to cooperate.

"It is unwise to defy me," said Vader. Because, holy shit, who else could it possibly be?

Deans eyes bugged out as his legs kicked helplessly in the air. The sight would've been funny if Sam hadn't been so terrified.

"W-wait!" said Sam, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "He didn't mean it that way! We'll answer whatever questions you have!"

Dean fell roughly to the ground, landing on his back with a painful-sounding thud. It took a few moments for him to get his breath back. "Holy shit," he said, wheezing, reaching up to massage his throat gingerly. "This is fuckin' crazy, even for us."

Letting out a breath that Sam hadn't even realized he'd been holding, he turned to Vader.

Darth Vader.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"You're...probably confused," said Sam. "About why you're suddenly in the middle of nowhere on a planet you've never heard of."

"How intuitive," Vader rumbled. "I require a means of contacting assistance. You will provide me with one."

Sam swallowed. "Um...I don't think we have anything that can help you with that."

"Yeah," said Dean. "We don't even have a space port or - whatever. The furthest we've ever gotten into space is our own moon."

"Impossible." The way Vader shifted gave Sam the impression that he was becoming agitated. Which was probably not good. "No planet so primitive and isolated could know who I am."

Sam's mind raced as he tried as he tried to come up with a plausible reason that didn't involve telling Vader that he was a fictional character. From the look of panic in Dean's eyes, he could tell that his brother was facing the same dilemma. How long before Vader figured it out on his own from reading their minds or something?

That was when Castiel appeared.

Dean let out a visible sigh of relief and finally got back on his feet. "Nice of you to finally show up," he said, unable to keep the note of hurt from his voice.

Castiel's eyes were fixed on Vader, his eyebrows drawing slowly into a frown. "This is Darth Vader," he said.

"Yup," said Dean.

"I was under the impression that he's a fictional character." He sounded mildly confused.

"So were we," said Sam.

"What?" said Vader.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag," said Dean. "Real subtle, Cas."

Castiel took a step towards the Sith Lord, who flinched away.

Sam couldn't be entirely sure, but there seemed to genuine fear in Vader's synthesized voice when he spoke again. "What are you?" he asked Castiel.

"I am an angel of the Lord," said Castiel. He took another step towards the Sith Lord, and Vader's legs buckled, sending him tumbling gracelessly to the ground.

"That's new," said Dean, sounding impressed. To Vader: "He means the kind from heaven, by the way, not the kind from the moons of Diego."

"Iego," Sam corrected.

"Nerd," said Dean.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "It would appear that my proximity interferes with his powers." He closed the rest of the distance between himself and Vader, crouching down beside him. "His presence here is worrisome. It must've taken immense power to transport him from so far away."

Sam scoffed. "Seems a bit ridiculous to go to the trouble. What could - whatever it was - be trying to achieve?"

"I'm uncertain," said Castiel. "But I fear we may have to take the time to found out."

Vader was trying to push himself to his feet again, with obvious difficultly. Sam wondered just how much he relied on his powers, that he needed them even to stand.

Maybe it was all mental, though. The dude was the Force's Jesus baby, after all. Might've been like suddenly losing his primary senses all at once.

Castiel's frown deepened. "He'll be cumbersome like this." Reaching out, he placed a hand on the top of Vader's helmet.

There was a flash of brilliant light, and then there was a naked man sprawled out on the ground in Vader's place. He had a handsome face, offset somewhat by a head that was completely bald, no eyebrows, and skin that was deathly pale. Blue eyes swiveled wildly in panic.

"Darth Powder over there is gonna still attract a ton of attention," said Dean.

"Sorry," said Castiel. In the blink of an eye, Vader was fully clothed and had a short crop of dark blond hair. Also, eyebrows.

The man did bear something of a resemblance to Hayden Christensen, Sam supposed, but mostly in coloring and build. Which was good, since the last thing they needed was some evil celebrity look-alike choking fangirls to death for bothering him.

Vader got shakily to his feet, staring down at his hands like they were going to spontaneously detach themselves from his body. He swore in a language that Sam guessed was Huttese. Castiel stood as well.

After a few moments of Vader regaining bearings, he finally said: "How in the hell?"

Dean cocked a brow. "Welcome to Earth," he said.

Vader looked at him with an expression that promised future murder.

"Don't harm Sam or Dean," said Castiel, "You'll regret it if you do."

With that, he was gone.

"He was in a hurry," Sam remarked.

Dean made a face. "Dude, I don't even know where to start with Cas."

Sam looked at Vader and cleared his throat. "So, uh, I guess you should come with us? We can help you figure out what brought you here, and maybe how to get you back to...wherever the hell it is that you came from."

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away," said Dean, sounding a little dazed.

Vader, for his part, looked pretty dazed himself. "Time travel isn't possible," he said.

Sam guessed that he'd looked into it a few times, given Vader's litany of terrible life decisions. "It is, actually," he said. "But you usually need an angel for it."

Vader actually chuckled at that. The sound was a tad hysterical. "Of course," he said. "An angel. Why not."

"So, we done here, or what?" asked Dean.

"I think so," Sam replied.

They walked to the car, Vader following them without having to be asked. He didn't look enthused by any of the cars they saw as they passed, let alone the Impala.

"Your speeders are archaic," he said, glaring at the Impala like it had just insulted him.

"Not speeders," said Dean. "Cars. And don't you look down on my baby."

Vader rolled his eyes without replying, then opened the door of the back seat to get inside. Sam was thankful that he didn't seem keen on driving.

That was a Force choke just waiting to happen.

The rise home was one of the most awkward experiences Sam had ever had in his life. He tried to start a conversation a couple of times, only to have Vader pointedly ignore him. Eventually, Dean said, "Give it a rest, Sammy. Princess Vader obviously ain't in a chatty mood."

Sam's heart leaped into his throat, half expecting Dean to start choking and crash the car. But, if Vader had heard them, he was apparently willing to let the insult slide.

They couldn't get there fast enough.

When they finally did arrive back at the bunker, Vader still didn't say anything, just sitting at one of the tables in the center of the compound with his eyes closed. Sam figured he was meditating, or whatever the Sith equivalent of it was.

Dean had gone off to do something in his room while Sam researched for his next trial. But after about an hour, the silence from their guest was starting to make him nervous.

He cleared his throat, putting down the archive he was reading. "You, uh, want something to eat?"

Vader didn't respond.

"Or something to drink? I was planning on making myself some coffee."

Vader opened his eyes. They were a sickly shade of gold which reminded Sam uncomfortably of Azazel. "Will you stop bothering me if I say yes?"

What a ray of sunshine. "When was the last time you had an actual human conversation that didn't end with you killing somebody?" he asked.

The glare he received was as telling as any verbal answer.

"I don't know how you were kept alive in your suit," he continued, "but you're gonna have to eat and drink at some point."

As if on cue, Vader's stomach made a rather interesting noise. Vader put one hand over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his pale cheeks coloring slightly. "Just...show me where you keep your supplies."

Sam couldn't help but smirk a little as he lead Vader to the kitchen. He gestured to the fridge. "This is where we keep perishable stuff. There's some soda and beer, as well." He pointed to the pantry. "And that's where we keep everything else. I think the microwave and stove are pretty self-explanatory - way less complicated than a pod racer."

He turned to leave Vader to it, only to have Vader say, "Wait."

Sam turned around again, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"How much do you know?" he asked, looking very unhappy.

"About you?" said Sam. "Probably not everything, but...way more than you want me to."

Sam could tell that Vader really wanted him dead, but Cas had obviously put the fear of God in the Sith Lord. So, instead, Vader said: "There is darkness in you, Sam Winchester. You can't run from it forever."

At first, Sam was surprised. He hadn't told Vader his name yet, after all. But it's not like it was news to him that Vader was psychic, and after all the demons he'd dealt with over the years - not to mention Lucifer - Vader's attempts at goading him were just cute. "No wonder everybody keeps turning you down, dude," he said, trying hard to keep from smiling. "Um, anyway - enjoy your meal. I'll be at the table if you need any help."

He didn't wait around to see Vader's reaction; he was pretty sure that would be tempting fate.

Vader rejoined him at the table several minutes later, carrying a plate of steaming, crispy bratwurst and a cup of coffee. He'd figured out the stove, apparently.

"Those go well with mustard," said Sam, as Vader speared one of the sausages with a fork. "That's the stuff in the yellow bottle in the fridge."

Ignoring him, Vader took a bite, and spent an inordinately long time chewing. After he finally swallowed, he put the fork down, rested his elbows on the table, and put his forehead in his hands.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Uh...you okay, dude?"

Vader let out a long breath through his nose. "I'm fine," he said. His voice sounded a little shaky.

"It's okay to be overwhelmed," said Sam, trying to sound understanding. "You haven't eaten real food in a long time, right? You should've seen Dean when he got back from Hell."

Vader sank his face further into his hands.

Sam stood up. "You know what? I'll just...go...and you can do...whatever it is that you need to do."

He left Darth Vader to his bratwurst.

There were a lot of things Vader had come to appreciate about his suit over the years. It gave him strength and endurance; it freed him from the cravings of physical existence; it isolated him from other sentients, strengthening his connection to the Force.

But now that he had found himself so suddenly without it, he could at the very least appreciate the fact that real food was heavenly. He took another bite of the sausage, its juices coating his tongue with salt and fat and spices, and it took all of his willpower to repress a moan. It was no small consolation, given the utter humiliation he'd experienced in the past few hours.

He took a sip from the cup of caf. It could use some sweetening, but it was still a delight to his senses.

Winchester had left, thankfully, allowing Vader better gather his thoughts. The young man's presence was...unsettling. Even now, further distant, it was like an itch - a shadow in the periphery of Vader's senses.

It had been Sam's presence that had drawn him out of his temporary shelter, simply too disturbing to ignore. A decision that he had swiftly come to regret.

And the little he'd been able to glean from Winchester's mind had left him only more confused.

He had never thought he'd face a situation more baffling than even Mortis. And yet, here he sat, restored by a mysterious being who burned with a power that seemed to encompass every aspect of the Force - and beyond. Then there had been Sam Winchester's mind, with its shadowed corners of screaming agony and inhuman hunger. Vader had dared not enter those parts of his mind, sensing that it would show him things he would later wish he hadn't seen.

It was no small feat, to make a Sith Lord turn away from the possibility of arcane knowledge.

What he had managed to learn had been of little help. He was on a planet called Earth: a technologically and culturally primitive backwater with access only to its own orbit and moon - and barely even that. Sam thought that Vader probably came from another dimension entirely, given the fact that, in this world, Vader's life was documented in a series of holonovels. Or whatever the equivalent of them were on this planet.

He would've had trouble believing it, if not for Sam Winchester's offhand comment about pod racers. Or the name Anakin Skywalker bouncing around in his mind.

To have that damn name known by so many millions of strangers was at once surreal and unbearable.

Pushing those thoughts aside for the moment, he focused once again on the delicious tubes of meat that sat before him. It wouldn't make up for having to see that damn face in every reflective surface, but it was still...pleasant, to eat properly again.

"Those go well with mustard." It was Dean Winchester, the older of the brothers. "Do they have mustard where you come from? It's the yellow stuff in the fridge."

Vader rolled his eyes. "So I've been told," he said flatly. This one lacked the uncomfortable presence of his younger sibling, but would probably prove to be far more obnoxious in every other way.

Dean pulled out a chair and sat, affecting a casual pose. "So when exactly do you come from, anyway?" He titled his head as he summed Vader up with his eyes. "You look closer to 40 than 20, so I'm thinkin' it's after the Death Star went kaboom."

"I fail to see why it matters," he snapped. It took a considerable amount of his restraint not to reach out with the Force to choke the insufferable look off Dean's face.

Dean shrugged. If he sensed the extent of Vader's hostility, he was unconcerned. "Wouldn't wanna spoil you, is all. Do you know yet that the guy who blew up the Death Star is your son?"

The man's demeanor reminded Vader, absurdly, of Aphra. It really wasn't helping matters. Vader didn't bother with a denial, but couldn't quite bring himself to confirm it.

"So that's a yes," said Dean, smirking. "Man, it must really stick in your craw that you can't kill me without Cas smiting your ass." The smirk widened into a grin. "Gotta say: you're way more intimidating on-screen. Especially now that you got the whole prettyboy thing going on again."

Vader let his eating utensils fall to his plate with a clatter. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish with this little performance?"

The grin fell away. "My job is to kill monsters. I guess I'm trying to figure out if you're even still human." His mouth twisted in disgust. "The last time I saw eyes like yours, it was on a demon."

"Ah yes," said Vader, scoffing. "You and your brother imagine yourselves to be heroes. Champions of the helpless." He pushed through his distaste for that damn name in order to deliver the finishing blow: "Anakin Skywalker thought that once, as well."

He could sense that his barb had landed, though Winchester hid it well. "Only crazy people talk about themselves in the third person, dude."

"Are you quite done?" asked Vader.

Dean stood up. "Guess I am," he said. "Set yourself up in one of the spare rooms if you want, and bug Sammy if you have any questions. We'll decide tomorrow what the hell we're supposed to do with you."

Vader scowled, but didn't voice his objection. There were dangers on this world that he did not yet know how to face alone. As much as it chafed to admit it, he was indeed at the mercy of these "hunters" and their pet "angel".

At least for the time being.