John

John knew when the ring of the bell reverberated throughout the dungeons that something was up. Alarms that loud reminded him of the war in Afghanistan.

Afghanistan. Alarms. War.

Maybe there was going to be a war? It was Camelot after all, wasn't that what they did back then, in all of those legends?

At any rate, they were bound to find out soon. The Doctor unlocked the cell and one by one they five of them slipped out of the cell and into the dimly lit corridor of the dungeons. The bell might have helped, or ruined, their chance of escaping from Camelot as the guards were busy, which was a pro, but a con was that whatever the alarm meant, wasn't good and might be dangerous to them.

John sighed; he was the third person in the group to think that things never happened the way they were planned.

Nevertheless, the group moved quietly down the hallways, the lack of guards might be temporary, and they started to try to find their way out of the place. Dean mentioned that he had memorized the route they had taken to the cell, but that way was out. They had come in through the bustling front doors and there was no way that they would be able to escape through that entrance without being seen.

So the men had to think up another escape route.

Suddenly, the resounding toll of the alarm bell stopped and there was a deafening silence. For a moment, not a sound was to be heard. Then, there was! First came the sound of armor clanking and people shouting orders. The sound of marching came next, except it wasn't exactly heard, it was more of a feeling on got through the soles of his feet and the vibrations of the air.

There was most definitely a war going on.

All five men moved in sync, running towards the stairs, up them, and towards the nearest window. Outside were two armies, two very different armies. Closer to Camelot, knights in red and silver were still pouring out of Camelot into the streets and out of Camelot to stand in formation, obviously they hadn't been prepared. At their lead was King Arthur with his sword held high.

The other army was a different story, all wore dark, peasants clothing and they marched in disarray, there seemed to be no order to the chaos of the challenging army. At their lead was a… Woman? Yes, a dark woman who seemed to radiate a dark power.

Whoever that was, John did not want to get involved with. She looked terrifying.

John turned away from the window to see the faces of his four companions, each had a very different look upon their face.

Dean looked kind of nauseous, Sam looked resigned, Sherlock looked almost excited, and The Doctor looked angry. John himself wore a look of determination, he had been in wars before and he was not going to get involved with this one.

"Come on, lets get out of here before the place blows." He said, beginning to walk up the stairs. But before he could get far, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see The Doctor looking grim.

"I'm staying, I have this feeling and it's telling me to stay and help." He said, a scary look in his eye.

John's eyes widened, "You want to help Camelot? We'll die."

"Well, you don't have to come, but I'm your way back."

Dean suddenly appeared next to The Doctor, "I think he's right John. We can't just leave Camelot to fall. Not after Merlin's kindness, and there are innocent people out there. People who don't deserve to die."

John swore like a drunken sailor for a moment before giving in, "Fine. I'll help. Sherlock? What do you want to do?"

Sherlock had turned up as well and he looked even more excited, "I say we stay." He replied with a crazed light in his eyes.

Another bout of swearing and John gave in completely. Soon, all five of the company were talking together, wondering where the weapons they had brought were.

"They'll be in a cupboard somewhere or something." Dean was saying as they descended the stairs once more. John was about to agree when they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, and saw the pile of their weapons in the corner.

"How convenient." Sherlock exclaimed before grabbing his gun and swinging it around with a smile.

Each man grabbed their own weapon, gun or otherwise, and stood, ready to go.

John sighed, it seemed he was going straight back to where he had sworn never to go again, a war.