Chapter 1
John Watson walked down the streets, breathing in the crisp autumn air. It a very nice Wednesday in September and the air was ripe with the chill that was coming. Baker Street wasn't crowded; it was too early for school to be out and there were very few people taking walks down the road. He walked towards his and Sherlock's apartment. Just as he reached the door and was about to walk in, John noticed something out of the corner of his eye. There was something at the end of the street, opposite of the way he had just come.
John looked around. There was no one else who seemed interested in the end of the street. John walked a little way towards the object. As he walked towards it, it was revealed to be a tall, blue, box with something written on it. As he neared, John read out the words POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX written on the top. As soon as he read this, John stopped in his tracks. "Well, it's about time," he breathed.
John turned around and practically ran back to the flat. Slowing enough to walk up the stairs without making enough noise as to disturb Mrs. Hudson, John walked into the room where some of the greatest people he had ever known were all gathered. There were four people in the room in total. Sitting down where he usually did, was Sherlock. Dressed in a suit-thank God, he was still in his robe when I left, thought John-he was holding his violin, absently plucking at it occasionally. Standing by the window was another tall man, this one with shorter brown hair and a sandy coat with his usual bow tie around his neck. A redheaded woman was leaning against the wall with a sandy short haired man standing next to her.
"What's going on?" John asked as he entered the room.
Sherlock turned to him. "Ah, John, you're back. There's been an interesting turn of events," he said, gesturing to his companions.
The Doctor turned from the window. "John! Great to see you! It's been a while, hasn't it? You haven't changed at all! Well, your hair is a bit different, you're growing a bit of a beard I see, but other than that, it's the same John Watson we all know and love!"
"Yes, hello, Doctor, it has indeed been a while, great to see you. Hello, Amy, Rory." John said as the Doctor clapped him on the shoulder.
Rory grinned and waved, as Amy walked over to give him a hug. "It is great to see you again," she said, her Scottish accent pronounced to John after not hearing it for too long.
The Doctor and Sherlock watched all of this. "Well, now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, to business. John, remember the cases we were investigating?" Sherlock asked him.
"Yeah, the poor chaps who were apparently used in some sort of ritual," John remembered, thinking about the bodies they had been shown by Molly. They had been completely tortured, their bodies scarred and torn. There had been a strange emptiness in their eyes that had bothered John, however. Different from the usual vacancy of death, this was much colder and much more sinister.
"Exactly. The Doctor here seems something is going on that is much bigger than a couple of Satanic enthusiasts looking for a thrill," Sherlock said, his tone making it clear he didn't agree with their friend.
The Doctor didn't seem to notice. "I've been monitoring the general area for strange activity," he explained. "I was told something was going to happen, so I've been keeping an eye out. Recently however, the levels of energy have been fluctuating. Something very wrong is happening, and I thought I should stop by and see what's been going on. Besides, Amy wanted to stop by and see the boys from 221B again."
John moved to the chair across from Sherlock and sat down. "What have you found out?" he asked.
Sherlock spoke this time. The disdain and contempt was clear in his voice. "The Doctor thinks that all the energy here is indeed Satanic, and that someone here is dealing with demons and creating some sort of monster with these people. I assume whoever is doing these needs their souls, as that is what demons are, twisted souls."
The Doctor straightened. "You may not like the idea, Sherlock, but I've never seen this before and it's worrying me. The energies are like something I encountered on a planet that was hovering before a black hole. There was something very evil there, and the energy readings are more or less the same, so I thought it would be wise to check it out. You're clever; you'd think you'd be a little more open-minded given who you know and what you've seen."
Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, but John interrupted him. "So, someone is dealing with demons, and you thought we were the people to come to?" he asked. "As you can see, we're not the right people, I'm sorry, Doctor."
"Ah ha!" The Doctor brightened. "That's just it! I'm here for your help, but not in that way. I happen to know the perfect people for the job. Where you come in, my friends, is that I think we will need your skills somewhere at some time. Who knows what we might come across? Plus, Amy and Rory insisted you come along for another adventure." The Doctor grinned. "So, what do you say?"
"Brilliant!" John exclaimed. He looked at Sherlock.
Sherlock looked back at him for a moment, then said: "Well, it would help the case," he mused. "So, I'll agree. Also, John would never forgive me if I didn't."
"Brilliant!" Rory and Amy exclaimed. The Doctor jumped up. "Wonderful! Well, no time to waste, you won't need anything, we can just head out. Come along Ponds and friends!"
The Doctor bounded out of the room, Rory and Amy close on his heels. John hurriedly followed; casting a look behind him to make sure Sherlock was behind him. They headed outside, with John and Sherlock grabbing their coats before heading out. A cab drove past them, carrying a whole family in the backseat. John watched them turn the corner before heading towards the police box that was such a welcome sight.
John entered the TARDIS, looking around as he did so. Even though he had traveled with the Doctor before, the bigger-on-the-inside took a little getting used to, especially for someone like John, who used to be practical and never believed it such things as fate, aliens, and demons. Then he had met the Doctor one day with Sherlock, and that whole way of thinking had been turned completely upside down. The Doctor himself was standing around the console in the middle of the room. Sherlock was moving to stand beside, most likely to try to figure out how to pilot it. Amy and Rory were standing back, watching them. As he entered, Rory looked up and gestured for him to join them.
"Hey, been a long time," Rory greeted him as John walked over.
"Too long," Amy agreed.
"Definitely. How've you been? Last I time I saw you was after you guys came across the Dalek asylum, which you still have to tell me about. What have you been up to since then?" John inquired.
Rory sighed. "Not much, been trying to keep a low profile in our normal lives while still hanging out with the Doctor. Not as easy as you might think," he chuckled.
Amy rolled her eyes. "He keeps somehow taking us several days after we left, despite double checking something or other. We generally walk into some nosy neighbor wondering where we go off too so often."
"We currently have an uncle who we are very close to who is feeling generous after our marriage, despite that being a little bit ago. He insists on taking various trips around the world," Rory said.
John chuckled. "And when they ask where you've been?"
"This uncle used to work for MI6 and is very paranoid," Amy said, winking. "He's very paranoid, and therefore swears us to secrecy in case someone is after him or something like that. We have to humor him, naturally."
John shook his head. "Must be fun to handle."
"You have no idea," Rory groaned. "I swear, they write down what we say and memorize so they remember it better than we do."
John chuckled again. "You can't mean that. There isn't really people that nosy?"
They just looked at him. "Incredible," John said.
The three of them turned to observe Sherlock studying the Doctor's every moment with a determined look in his eye. The Doctor, flying his ship, had a small smile on his lips. John was fairly sure that he was adding in some extra moment here and there, just to throw Sherlock off.
"You know anything about whoever we're going to find?" John asked the couple.
"Not much," Rory said. "Just that there are three of them. Two of them brothers called the Winchesters, and the other a close friend who assists them and gets assisted in return."
"Yeah, The Doctor hasn't been saying much. He keeps insisting it'll ruin the surprise if he tells us everything," Amy sighed.
"It would!" The Doctor exclaimed from by the console.
"Well after what we've been through, I'd say surprises are something we're not that fond off. Especially ones that you find exciting!" Amy threw at him.
"Oh, come on, you know you love surprises. And mine are so much more surprising than regular surprises!" The Doctor said, grinning a broad grin.
The look on Rory's face said to John that they had this argument before. He himself hid a grin, as there was really no arguing with The Doctor once he had his mind set on something. Much like Sherlock, only with Sherlock it was pretty much all the time. He had never met someone more stubborn than the consulting detective, except perhaps his sister when she wanted something.
The TARDIS jerked to a stop, throwing her occupants forward a little. John was jerked out of his thoughts as he grabbed onto the rail that was around the platform. The familiar screeching sound that announced the TARDIS was heard. There was a jolt, and then everything was still. The Doctor strode towards the door and poked his head out. "Oh dear," John heard him say.
"What is it now?" Amy asked warily.
"We're in the right place, but we seem to be a little late. They've already left," The Doctor said, pulling his head back in.
"So, how are we going to catch them?" John asked.
The Doctor looked at him. "Why, the normal way! We'll find them ourselves, how hard can it be?"
Rory and Amy shared a look, while Sherlock just remained silent. John himself followed Sherlock's example and said nothing.
"Doctor," Rory spoke up at last. "How are we going to find them? On foot? We don't have a vehicle."
The Doctor hesitated for a moment. "Of course we'll walk! It's good exercise, there's nothing wrong with a nice walk before going out to save the world again!" he exclaimed.
The rest of the group looked at each. Then, realizing there was really no point in refusing, they all started to walk out the door. When he stepped outside of the time traveling police box, John took a long look at his surroundings. They were somewhere unfamiliar, though granted, that could be anywhere. There were lots and lots of trees along the road, which was paved but not much else had been done to keep it in driving shape. It was a clear day, and you could smell the great outdoors. It didn't take a detective to know they weren't in London anymore.
"Where are we?" Rory asked.
The Doctor walked to the front of the group. "My friends, welcome to the land of the free and the home of the brave," he said, swinging around and spreading his arms around. "America."
******
This is going to hurt in the morning, Sam thought, tending to the slice up along his arm. Dean was driving the Impala back to their motel, insisting on getting back to their room before doing more than wrapping his own wounds. Sam checked the rear view mirror. Castiel wasn't there with them at the moment; he had said there was something he needed to check into before vanishing as they walked back to the car after their latest case. Sam shook his head. Cas had a habit of vanishing and disappearing, but he had lately been spending more time with them. He wasn't sure what to think of them. Cas said that he wanted to simply hang out with them, instead of coming only if he needed something or, more often, they needed something from him. That was fine with Sam; he liked Cas a lot, and so he didn't mind his company.
Sam had noticed that Dean's everlasting bad mood had started to lift as Cas had started to join them more and more. That was a nice change. Dean's constant state of agitation had set him and Sam at odds more than once, so it was nice to get a break from fighting. As they turned a corner, Sam glanced back where they had come, just to make sure that nothing nasty was coming after them. The latest job had been a couple of werewolves that had been feeding on the town, and while Dean and Sam had killed them all, he wanted to make sure that nothing was following them. As they turned, Sam thought he caught a glimpse of something that was in the shape of one of those older telephones booths, the kind that someone might find in England or perhaps in a movie.
Sam wondered about it for a moment, then dismissed it. There hadn't been anything like that when they pulled up earlier, and nothing as they had gotten into the car. There was no way anyone could have put a telephone box while they were driving for a few seconds. Sam turned back to look out the windshield. "You know," he said hesitantly. "This sticks to the pattern I've been noticing."
Dean glanced at him. "Yeah? And what pattern is that?" he said.
"The creatures are gathering in large groups. I mean, it was the werewolves here, the shifters back in Wyoming, and then the wendigo before that," Sam said. "It's as if the creatures out there are gathering together for some reason."
Dean snorted. "I doubt that, Sammy. The monsters aren't that smart, otherwise they would have teamed up against hunters a long time ago. What's changed in the past couple of years that they would suddenly be gathering together?"
Sam didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Lucifer rising, Crowley becoming King of Hell after they stopped the Apocalypse, Cas letting the Leviathans loose on the world, then Dean going to Purgatory with him. So much had happened in the past years, though none seemed to have been what would have sparked such activity. Sam pushed it out of his mind. Maybe he was over thinking everything. Maybe it felt unnatural that there nothing planning on destroying the world, so he looked for anything to signal that something was wrong.
"Yeah, maybe you're right," he muttered.
"Of course I'm right," Dean said. "You keep forgetting that I'm the oldest and the senior hunter here, therefore I'm generally right."
"Sure, Dean," Sam said, but there was a smile on his face, and Dean's as well.
Sam turned to look out the window again. He rubbed at his wound absently, stopping when he accidentally pushed on it, causing the wound to throb even more than before. As he looked up, Sam thought he saw someone standing on the side of the road, but when he looked back, there was no one there.
They pulled into the motel. Dean parked the car in the spot outside their room, then climbed out, wincing. Sam looked at him as he got out. "You shouldn't have waited, we could have taken care of that at the road," he pointed out.
"Yes, Dr. House," Dean snapped. "However, I prefer to make sure that I clean the wound right with the right equipment with the right steps, instead of rushing around like you do." Sam held up his hands in defense as they walked to the door.
Sam opened the door and dropped their gear on one of the beds. The motel wasn't anything special this time around, brown walls and carpet, two beds that had seen better days. Dean headed into the small bathroom after grabbing the right equipment that he would need. Sam sat at the table and opened his laptop. He took out his cellphone and dialed Garth Fitzgerald IV and got his voicemail.
"Hey, Garth, it's Sam. We're back at the motel. Nothing that bad, just a couple of werewolves. If you're not busy, could you do me a favor? How many times have the things we hunt actually gather together in the past? I've been noticing a pattern here, but I'm sure it's nothing. Just in case, could you look into it? Thanks." Sam ended the call and turned back to the computer. He went to the internet and started to look up that telephone box he had seen as they were leaving the woods.
Dean walked into the room and came to stand by him. "Jeez, man, I'm eager to kill as many of these things as you, but we haven't been home five minutes and you're already looking into the next case?"
Sam looked up. "I'm looking up demonic activities all over the country. I think there's something here, Dean. A lot of possessions and non-demonic activities are all concentrated in various areas all over the country."
"So maybe they're using the same hunting grounds, doesn't mean there's a huge plot going on." Dean walked over to the mini-fridge. "Aw, come on. We're out." He stood up and walked to the door, grabbing the keys. "I'll head out to the store; want me to grab you anything?"
Sam shook his head, distracted by what he was seeing. Dean walked out, and Sam heard the sound of the Impala being turned out, then being driven out of the parking lot. Sam closed his laptop and went to lie down on his bed. He glanced over at the clock on the dresser: 5:00 am. Perhaps he could catch a couple hours of sleep before they had to leave. Sam debated on waiting for Dean to come back with the beer, but before he could decide, he heard a sound outside the window.
Sam froze, listening. He heard it again, this time more clearly. Definitely footsteps. They walked past the room, and Sam relaxed slightly. Then he heard them again, this time they walked by and stopped at the room. Sam sat up slowly, reaching for his gun. There was no way Dean was back yet. He saw movement out of the corner of his and eye and saw there were shadows in front of the window. Thankfully, the blinds were shut. Sam got up quietly, moving to an angle not direct from the door and raised his gun.
The door burst open. Sam prepared to fire, but someone shouted: "Wait! Don't shoot!" The first person in, a short man with short hair, also had a gun, so Sam wasn't sure who the shouting man was talking to. He sound found out. A tall man pushed his way through and put his hands up to the both of them. "We're all friends here," the man said.
Sam didn't move his gun an inch, and neither did the other man. The second man sighed. "John, lower the gun. Why you even brought it in, I have no idea. You know I dislike weapons," the man said disapprovingly.
The first man-John-glanced at him, then at Sam, then slowly began to lower his gun. He put it back in his coat, the put his hands up and stepped back, allowing the rest of the party to come in. Sam watched as three more people entered the room.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sam demanded.
The last person in the room, a good looking redhead, shut the door once she was clear. Sam didn't move an inch, wondering why he didn't just fire at them, as they were obviously up to something. There were five of them in total. Sam figured based on their accents that they were English, though the woman was Scottish. John, the shouting man, another man who was tall compared to the rest of them, but Sam was about four inches taller than; another man with short light hair, and the redhead.
"Shall we introduce ourselves?" said the no-longer-shouting man cheerfully. "I'm the Doctor, that's John, Sherlock," the tall man nodded, "Rory, and last but not least Amy. Now, that's settled, put the gun down, Sam, that's a good lad."
Sam blinked. "How do you know my name?" he asked, though he did start to lower his gun.
"Oh, I know a good amount about you. You, and your brother as well, and your special friend," the man called the Doctor winked at him. "Now, where are they? It's time we have a proper chat, don't you think?"
The woman, Amy, walked further into the room, at the protesting of the man, Rory. Sam watched as she went and looked into the bathroom, came back out, and took a good look around. "Wow, I would hate to have to stay in a dump like this," she said.
"Ssshhh, Amy!" the Doctor scolded. "I'm sure the people here work very hard and would not like to hear you say that!"
Amy rolled her eyes and muttered something about what she thought the people here worked hard at. Sam had to smile, but then his attention turned back to the men who were standing in front of him. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?" Sam repeated.
"Why, we're here looking for you!" the Doctor said. He talked a lot for the group, Sam noted. The others seemed used to it, none of them tried to get a word in besides Amy.
"I'm sorry?" Sam said.
"We walked several miles and into this horrible excuse for anything inhabitable looking for you and your brother, not because we want to," said Sherlock irritably.
John shot him a look, which Sherlock pointedly ignored. There was an awkward silence. Sam cleared his throat. "Okay, but why are you looking for me and why should I trust you?"
"Well, for starters, we didn't shoot you when we came in," said the Doctor brightly. Sam acknowledged the point. They certainly had the advantage on him and could have gotten off a shot or two, but Sam had faith that he would have been able to get out of the situation. None of them looked like fighters except John, and Sam was at least a foot taller than him, so it wouldn't be a huge challenge.
"All right, but why are you here? Why are you looking for me and my brother?" Sam asked, purposefully not mentioning Cas; in case he heard and decided to come down to investigate himself.
"As I'm sure you're aware, there have been a lot of activity around here recently, and in other areas across the globe as well. The things you and your brother hunt haven't been acting normally, have they?" the Doctor said.
Sam hesitated. "How do you know...?" An idea sparked him. "Are you guy's hunters?" They didn't look it, but he'd known hunters that looked the complete opposite of the job, namely Garth.
Rory finally spoke up. "No, not that I know what that is. I think it's finally time you told us what's going on, Doctor," he said, pointedly looking at the Doctor.
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Wait, you don't even know why you're here? You just came here, what, on blind faith?" he asked.
They nodded. "It's something that happens when you're friends with the Doctor," John said ruefully.
"Uh huh," Sam said.
The Doctor drew his attention just then. He had taken out something that looked like a screwdriver except it was glowing and making a strange noise, and was waving it all around the room. He looked at it, and tsked under his breath. "That's odd."
"What?" Amy looked at him worriedly. "What's wrong, Doctor?" added Rory.
They all looked at him. "I'm not sure. There's something wrong here, but I don't know what it is..." The Doctor looked at his screwdriver in confusion. Sam was looking at him with the same expression. "What is that?" he asked.
The Doctor ignored him, concentrating. Rory and Amy walked over to Sam and began what would be the weirdest explanation he would hear in his life, and he would hear some pretty some weird things. They told him about the TARDIS, the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor, everything. Sam listened, enraptured. He couldn't believe what they were saying, but he was seeing parts of it as well. "Wow, that's pretty awesome," Sam said, impressed.
The Doctor straightened, a grin on his face. "Well, thank you, I am a bit impressive," he said, slightly cocky.
Sam opened his mouth to ask another question when suddenly the door opened. Dean walked in, carrying a six pack in one hand along with a plastic bag in the other. As soon as he saw the visitors, Dean's gun was instantly in his hand and up leveled at the nearest target. Sherlock moved back slightly, and Dean sighted John instead, who started to reach for his gun.
"Dean!" Sam shouted. He moved towards his brother, reaching for the gun. "It's okay, these people aren't enemies."
"Then what the hell are they doing here?" Dean demanded.
The Doctor opened his mouth, but Amy elbowed him in the side and he said nothing, besides "ow".
"They're here because the Doctor here saw the same pattern I did, how the creatures out there are gathering and apparently there's strange energies around here," Sam explained.
Dean looked at him. "Do you know how crazy you sound? And who is this Doctor? Doctor who?"
"I know it sounds kind of nuts, but Dean, we live crazy. And I think these guys are being truthful," Sam pleaded.
Dean looked at his brother. "Damn it," he muttered. He lowered his gun, and everyone visibly relaxed.
The Doctor looked around. "I don't see why everyone needs to have guns," he complained. "There are ways to get places without the assistance of firearms."
Dean looked at him. "I don't know who you are, Doctor, but trust me. The guns make the job a heck of a lot easier. Though a medical person like yourself might find that a bit hard to understand," he said bitingly.
Sam sighed inwardly, but he knew there was no way Dean was not going to be Dean and be polite to people he didn't trust. Dean put his gun down, though it was still in arm's reach. "So, why is a bunch of strangers in our motel room, and a better answer than just 'monsters are gathering,'" he said, glancing at them all in turn.
"The Doctor said you would be of assistance to us," Sherlock said.
"Is that so," Dean said. He turned to the Doctor. "Now, I'm all for helping people and all, but how is it that you know of us and think we could help?"
"Well, you're hunters, aren't you?" the Doctor said. "And what do hunters usually do? Hunt. We could use a little bit of hunting stuff right now."
"Uh huh. Doesn't explain how you know about us," Dean said.
"Dean-" Sam cut in.
Dean rounded on him. "What, Sam? These people are total strangers, they somehow know about us and what we do, won't give me a straight answer and you're treating them like they're our new best friends!"
Sam glared at him. "Well, what am I supposed to do, Dean? They don't mean us any harm; they seem to have a clue about something going on that I thought was a bit weird, what was I supposed to do? Throw them out?"
"Yes! Well, maybe. I don't know, not trust them completely," Dean said. He glared at Sam, and Sam knew that he had him.
There was a pause. "All right, now that's sorted," the Doctor said cheerfully. "How about we find out what's wrong with the room, shall we?"
Dean glanced at him. "There's something wrong with the room?"
"Yes, and I'm not sure what. The reading's a bit off," the Doctor said, tapping his screwdriver.
Dean's eyes narrowed, but then he turned to Sam. "Sam, did you do a check when I left?" he asked.
Sam's eyes met his. Almost the same minute, Rory began to cough. "Rory!" Amy exclaimed, moving over to his side.
"Crap," Dean and Sam said. They moved instantly, shoving anyone who was in their way out, and began turning the room inside out.
"What's going on?" the Doctor said, looking panicked as Rory began to cough up blood. He scanned him desperately. "He's got the same readings as the room!" he exclaimed.
"There's probably a hexbag," Sam spared the time to say, while ripping apart his bed.
"Look for a small bag that's hidden somewhere out of place, generally hard to find and has the look of evil about it," Dean said grimly. Neither of them said anything, but they were thinking that they needed to find that hexbag and fast. Rory was already on his knees. The Doctor scanned the room inch by inch, while Sherlock and John took the side of the room opposite Sam and Dean.
"Hurry!" Amy begged as she held onto Rory, desperately turning her head in search of the hexbag.
Sam overturned the bed completely, before moving onto the dresser. There was nothing there. Dean had moved on to looking for hollow areas in the wall. There was still nothing. "Rory!" Amy sobbed. His eyes were beginning to close, still coughing up his own blood.
Then: "Here!" John shouted. He had the small bag in his hand. He tossed to Sam, who caught it and the lighter that Dean threw at him and lit the bag on fire. As it was consumed, the color returned to Rory's face and the coughing fits died. Amy buried her face into his shoulder. The Doctor clapped a hand on Rory's shoulder, and then went to John.
"Well," Sherlock said. They all turned to him. "I suppose you two have some skill after all."
