Okay, so this is a drabble and as of now WILL NOT BE CONTINUED. I may do a much longer supermerwholock fic later, but we'll see!
"We've heard… that you might know what's happening to us." Merlin's flanked by a pair of older men, a blond named John holding up a man with curly dark hair named Sherlock.
Sam Winchester rocks back on his heels. "Maybe. Maybe not. What exactly do you mean?"
John takes his eyes off his companion a moment to snap at Sam.
"You know exactly what we mean. This, all of this." He gestures to Sherlock, who groans a little and shifts in John's arms. "Shh." He looks back up at Sam, despairing. "Please. You have to help us." Merlin stands next to him, rocking back and forth a little. These men, the Winchesters- they're Merlin's last hope.
Sam glances down at the man sitting on the motel bed. "It's not exactly safe, nowadays, to be…different," Dean Winchester remarks, fiddling with his gun. "How can we be sure that you're not going to run to a hunter?"
"Please," Merlin says, words sticking in his throat. "Please."
Sam stares at Dean and something silent is decided between them. Sam looks behind him.
"Doctor?"
The small, intense man saunters out of the corner of the motel room and adjusts his glasses. "I don't know," he says, and Merlin's heart drops. He walks straight up to Merlin and looks him in the eye. It is like looking into a volcano or supernova. Merlin feels as if he'll burn up any second.
The Doctor's words scald him, too. "How can we be sure these weren't the people-" he spits the word, "who killed Martha?" His eyes drill into Merlin a moment more, then shift to John and Sherlock. Merlin wouldn't be surprised if John started growling.
Sam puts his hands out. "I…I know they weren't the ones who killed Martha Jones."
The Doctor spins. "How do you know that?" His voice could splinter wood and freeze water.
"Before I met you…I saw Martha die."
"Be very careful with your next few words, Dean Winchester."
"By the time we got there, she was dead, and we didn't know if we could trust you." Sam shrugs. "I'm sorry."
"Do not keep something like this from me again. I am not a man for second chances."
Dean turns to the Doctor. "Yeah? Well, I'm not a man for people that threaten my little brother." He deliberately replaces the bullets in his gun and sticks it in his belt.
The tension in the room is thick and Merlin feels like he could choke on it.
Then, John Watson lays Sherlock down on other the bed and stands up.
"Right. So we're all figured out now, correct?" He looks around the room, and everyone looks away from his fierce gaze. "We're not killing anyone. What we need is help." John looks at Sam again, pleading. "What the hell is wrong with Sherlock?"
Sam looks first at the Doctor, then Dean.
"Sometimes, I get visions."
John waves a hand.
"Visions… that tell me what's going to happen in the future." Understanding dawns on John's face.
Sam finishes. "They started with migraines."
"So there's nothing I can do for him? He just will have these…visions?"
"I'm sorry," Sam says. "There's something more here, too. Something we're trying to find out about. A yellow eyed demon and a war."
John straightens and nods. "Then we'll just have to wait for Sherlock to wake up. He's a bloody genius. He can help."
The Doctor scoffs, but John ignores it.
Merlin clears his throat. "Umm, what about me?" he ventures.
Sam glances at Dean. "You're a little young to be connected to this. Is your mother alive? How long have you had your powers?"
"Yes, she's alive. And I've had them as long as I can remember."
Sam glances at Dean again. "Merlin…I don't think you're connected to this." Merlin's throat runs dry. "Whatever it is-" Merlin stops paying attention. Sam's words beat on and on in his head. Yellow eyed. War. Yellow eyed. Yelloweeyedwarwaryelloweeyed-
Merlin's vision goes white.
There's a man standing in front of him, facing away. The man is chanting something, something that feels right in Merlin's bones, and staring down a creature with yellow eyes. The vision twists and Merlin is facing a golden man whose smile touches every corner of Merlin's heart. It's at that moment that Merlin feels it, something twisting and growing like liquid silver in his gut. He focuses on the golden man and the feeling grows and grows until he snaps back to reality.
Instead of reeling back like usual, Merlin feels stronger for the vision, energy pouring off of him like waves. He sees everything in the room but pays attention to none of it: the Doctor leaning in the corner, watching, Dean trying to shield Sam and John shielding a half-conscious Sherlock with his body.
The feeling's forcing its way through his limbs and Merlin feels strange but powerful, oh so powerful. It worms its way up his neck and into his head, and for one moment, Merlin is made of silver. Merlin is powerful. Merlin is complete.
Then, silver words pour of his mouth in an otherworldly shout.
"Arthur Pendragon, your time has come. The Once and Future King is needed again."
Merlin stands there quavering for a moment, his message delivered, then drops to the floor in a dead faint.