John is gritting his teeth, eyes moving about the open crossroads with anticipation. He had called the Winchester brothers, asking for them about the demon said to grant wishes with anyone who would summon her- him – it (he wasn't really sure what gender the demon was, so he just automatically assumed it would be female, based off of what Dean had told him anyways).
The brother hunters had told him rather reluctantly – had even made him promise not to go and summon the thing before telling him. Of course he made the promise. And, of course, he had no intention of keeping it. That was why he was here, while the brothers were off drinking in the bar.
He doesn't wait long after summoning the demon. It's like she appeared out of nowhere (which he doesn't doubt is true, because, let's face it, that's what demons do).
She's dressed in a clingy black dress that hugs every curve and leaves nothing to the imagination. Her red hair is in a mermaid tail braid with odd sparkles sprinkled in it, and her eyes were as red as her hair. Or rather, the demon's eyes were as red as her hair. The bright color brought out her pale skin.
She smirks, looking at him. Her eyes are raking up and down his body, taking in every inch of him – which isn't a lot, for he was rather short.
"Well well well, if it isn't the Army Doctor those Winchester boys drag around with him," her eyes flickered up to his face. "I see you've come prepared."
She's talking about the holy water in his hand and the shotgun filled with salt sitting next to his cane.
He doesn't say a word, instead keeping his lips shut tight.
"So what can I do for you, my lovely army doctor?" She purrs, slinking over to him. She drags her fingers along his chest, blowing lightly on his ear. He shudders. She pulled away, smiling a toothy smile when she sees the people whom exit the bar. The Winchester brothers.
"Well, come to join the party?"
Dean growls, stalking towards the two, and he inwardly regrets not carrying a gun on him – today of all days. It seems that Sam is out of luck as well, and they boy just glare at the crossroads demon. Dean shoots the Brit a warning look when he shifts from one leg to another.
"I'm looking for Sherlock," John says, licking his lips, drawing the demon's attention back to him.
Sam shakes his head at his own stupidity for believing the man's words – he should've known he would do something like this.
"Ah, Sherlock," the demon says, not even acknowledging the hunters as she purses her lips. She knows they wouldn't ruin this moment – this chance – for Watson.
"I want you to make a deal with me," Sam opens his mouth to shout his protest but Dean shakes his head and grips his younger brother's shoulder tightly. He's been there, and he knows that if someone had tried to stop him from saving Sammy, he would've killed them. "My soul for Sherlock's," John says, making sure to keep eye contact with her.
"No."
The answer is clipped.
Tight.
Final.
"I don't want the ten years. I don't even want one! Just switch our souls!" John cries, feeling weak in the knees when the demon denies his request. She's his last hope.
Sam took another step forward, this time shaking Dean off.
"No."
John's face crumbled, heart dropping with his face, "Why?"
The demon looked pained – as if she's been punched in the stomach, and the anger's evident on her face.
"I can't."
"Why not?" It's Dean who snaps, eyes hardening as he growls low in his throat. He and Sam are now at John's sides, and Sam's fingers are itching to grab the shotgun next to John.
"Because he's not dead!" The woman snarled, stepping away from them with fury.
The silence is defining.
"B-But I saw him fall! I attended his bloody funeral! I saw him fall!"John shouts balling his fists at his sides. The leg aches in pain – ever since Sherlock's death it had gotten worse.
The demon shook her head, "He's not dead Doctor John Watson. He's quite alive and well. Though, not for long."
The sadistic grin sends shots of dread right through all three of the men.
"What do you mean –" Dean snarled, advancing towards her.
She gives one last final smirk before opening her mouth. The demon disappeared in a fury of black smoke and her meat suite fell to the floor, dead.
"Well," the three men swirl around in surprise, "that was quite a shocker."
So this was why the demon left in a hurry.
The Doctor's standing not even ten feet behind them, a ridiculous looking red…thing on his head, one that matched both his bowtie and suspenders in color. The TARDIS is right behind him.
At their dumb founded expressions, his grin widens.
"Well boys, what are you all waiting for?"
John's face brightens with hope, and he follows Sam, whom was already halfway to the blue Police box. They knew the drill.
Dean stops before following them in, his eyes taking in the Doctor's lanky form.
"Doc, what the hell are you wearing?"
The Timelord grinned once more, "A Fez! Fezzes are cool," he states in a matter-of-fact tone that usually ticks Dean off. The Doctor's one of the very few who can do it without rubbing the older hunter in the wrong way.
Dean snorted. "Whatever you say, space man."
The Doctor's smile faltered as Dean's words sunk in, and he sulked in after the hunter, the time machine's door automatically closing behind him.
His smile returns when he's standing in front of the TARDIS' control system, and he strokes her lovingly.
"Well then!" They all look at the Timelord who had a familiar look on his face, "Let's go catch us a highly functioning sociopath."