Chapter 9
Doctor Who
The Doctor stared at the screen in terror. He didn't know how it was possible. Had the master returned? Surely that is not possible? Sam, Dean, and Sherlock had come up behind him and were observing the monitor. For all they knew it could have been some sort of screen saver.
"What is that?" Dean asked, "Some sort of screen saver?"
The Doctor's breathing grew heavy. Something was terribly wrong and he had no idea what. The odd death back at Baker Street, the drum on the monitor, there was nothing that could make the situation any worse.
"No," the Doctor said, he turned to face the three men, "Wake John up. We all need to talk. Now."
Sherlock spun around, his trench coat twirling in a circle around his legs, and walked to John. He stared down at him, before smacking his head. John's eyes snapped open and he fell off the bench. "What?!" he shouted, before pulling himself to his feet.
"We all need to talk," Sherlock said blankly.
John rubbed his head. "Where's my walking stick?" he muttered. He looked around for it but it was nowhere to be seen. "Great," he said sarcastically.
"Don't worry, I have one for you," the Doctor said. He bent down under the TARDIS console and yanked something from under it. He stood up with a brown, smooth oak cane in his hand.
"Here you go." He handed it to John who was looking at the Doctor like he was mad.
"You just have a cane stuck to your machine?" Sam asked, "Okay..."
"You don't?" the Doctor sincerely asked the question.
"Anyway," Dean shook his head and turned to look at the Doctor, "Guess we should all get to talking?"
They all murmured in agreement. "Yes," the Doctor said, "Come with me."
He walked over to a spiral stair case and began sprinting up two steps at a time. Sam and Dean followed closely behind, but Sherlock walked like he was taking a leisurely stroll, while John hobbled along behind him, his left hand clenching the railing, the other gripping his walking stick.
When they all made it to the top, they were at the end of a hallway. The Doctor led them down the corridor, until they came to a metal door. "We can talk in here," the Timelord offered. He opened the door with his sonic screwdriver and they all walked in.
"What is that thing?" Sam asked, pointing to the device in the Doctor's hand.
"A sonic screwdriver," he answered casually, "You can use it on anything but wood. Wood is bad."
Sam nodded, "Is it alien technology?"
"Sam, focus," Dean snapped.
They all stood at the entrance of the room. It was rather small and a lot of the space was taken up by a large white, round table in the center. It had eight plastic chairs tucked under it. The room looked like it hadn't been used in several years.
"Everyone sit down," the Doctor said, pulling out one of the chairs.
They all sat down around the table, the chair legs loudly scooting along the floor. "Okay, so what is going on?" John asked, before yawning. He looked like he had just gotten in a gang fight. His hedgehog jumper was torn, his hair was messy, and he had a red marking where Sherlock had slapped him. "I need someone to explain everything to me. With the weird case in London, this place, and those two," he said pointing to Sam and Dean.
Dean sat forward. "Maybe we should explain first?" he offered. They all nodded and trained their eyes on him. The Doctor stared at him, trying to take his mind off of the drum, but it wouldn't leave his mind.
"So," Dean started, "We are hunters. We hunt supernatural beings out to kill innocent people; we're good guys. Usually the things we hunt are out for revenge and the thing that brought us here were one of those things."
"A 'supernatural being'?" Sherlock asked, staring at the wall with his hands crossed.
Sam nodded slowly. "I know it sounds crazy, but we've been doing this for years," he said, "Dean go on." The Doctor listened; his attention was caught. He wanted to know what brought the two over to London.
"Alright," he continued what he was saying before, "So we, my brother and I, look for cases where things seem unusual. If they seem like they're off, then we investigate. We got here because we were working a case. We had found out through the newspaper that there were plane crashes and disappearances. Based on the witnesses, we thought it sounded weird. Our kind of thing, weird."
"They had said they saw people with black eyes, which demons have," Sam added, "So we went to the airport where the planes were departing from. We found out patterns between the flight numbers that led us to suspect even more."
"So we got on a plane," Dean continued, "That took us to England. On the plane, we met the demon. But we weren't sure whether or not he was actually even a demon, because he had the story of a poltergeist, which is an angry spirit. So we arrived here."
"And we had found out about the death of Alan Simms and he was our top suspect," Sam said, "We knew he lived on Baker Street, so we came to investigate and found out about another death that we thought was also done by Alan. But none of it adds up; we thought Alan was attacking people on the plane, but then there was the death of his wife. Usually poltergeist latch onto an object, so we thought that all that we needed to do was salt and burn his bones to get rid of him for good."
"Salt and burn his bones?" John asked.
"It completely kills them off," Dean said. "So we just need to find Simms' remains."
"He has no remains," John said, "His wife had him cremated..."
Sam and Dean looked at each other. The Doctor could tell something was wrong. "Does that mean something?" Sherlock asked trying to speed things along.
"Yes," Sam muttered under his breath.
Dean's jaw tightened. "It means that Alan Simms should not be a demon or a poltergeist. When you burn their bones they can't live any longer. They're gone for good."
"And if his bones were burned, then we aren't dealing with a demon or a ghost," Sam said, staring down at the table, "I'm not sure what we're dealing with."
"What could it be?" John asked, shifting in his seat, "Nothing serious, right?"
Demons and poltergeist didn't seem too strange considering some of the things he had dealt with. But Sam and Dean looked truly concerned, so he didn't know what to think. The room had gone silent; it seemed that no one wanted to answer the question. Or knew how to answer the question.
"Everything is wrong," Dean said, "This isn't normal; I don't know what's going on. We've never seen anything like this."
"Something could have been leading you here," Sherlock said.
"But what?" the Doctor asked.
A heavy knock came on the metal door of the room; everyone froze. There was no one else in the TARDIS except for Sam, Dean, John, Sherlock, and the Doctor.
"Is there someone else here?" Sam asked, staring at the big, steel door.
Sherlock turned to look at him. "Obviously."
"There's no one else here but us," the Doctor whispered, "I don't know who that is. Or what that is."
Dean stood up. "We should see what it is."
They all looked at him. "Open the door," John said, just another loud set of knocks came. He clenched his walking stick and stood up.
Dean walked over to the entrance; put his hands on the wheel that you use to unlock the door. He spun it and it clicked open.
The Doctor stood up and approached slowly. Dean took a deep breath and pulled open the door. Everyone was standing, watching intensely, prepared to defend themselves. They all stared at the figure of a man in a tan trench coat. His hair was dark and his eyes were as blue as the sky. Dean's shoulders relaxed.
"Castiel?" Sam stared at him in astonishment. "What are you doing here?"
The Doctor's mouth was open slightly. "How did you get here?" he asked, "There is no way..."
Dean held up his hand to silence the Doctor. "Castiel what are you doing here?" he demanded.
"I don't have a lot of time," Cas said quickly, "You need to be careful. The case you are working is much more serious, it involves a terrible enemy."
"Who?" Sam asked, standing next to his brother.
Castiel averted his eyes. "Lucifer...he's back."
The Doctor stared at Sam and Dean. "Lucifer?" the Timelord asked, "Like, the devil, Lucifer?"
"That's impossible," Dean said, "We got rid of him." His voice was shaking and his hands were slightly trembling. "We locked him away."
"I don't know what happened," Castiel replied, "But the prophecy of the angels is starting to pass. The worst of the best. Lucifer is rising, there will be war."
"Do you know of anymore enemies?" Sherlock asked from the back of the room.
Cas ignored the question. "I must go now," he said, "You need to stay safe. Lucifer could still be trying to find allies."
"But -," Dean began before Castiel vanished.
The Doctor stared forward astonished. "Who was that?" he asked, "And what was he saying about Lucifer?"
Sam turned around and he had a look of pure horror on his face. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell over unconscious.
A/N:
So I wrote chapter 9! I hope you guys liked it! If there was anything that wasn't making sense, then this should have cleared up the Supernatural part of things. I just wanted to say thank you to all of the people who vote, comment, and add this story to their reading list! You guys are great!
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TL4E