Wow, I haven't updated in ages. Over a week! Really really sorry about that. The return of school plus the new Sherlock season equals ZERO productivity. Anyway, hope you enjoy this late late late chapter!

One laborious hour later, I had gotten used to it.

The Doctor had always admired my 'adaptability' to certain situations, namely getting captured, which had happened a couple of times on our ventures to alien planets. After spending just 20 minutes chatting to everyone, I found out everything I had to know about this place.

Kevin was working on the angel tablet with Greg- they were about half finished with it. They seemed quite grumpy when I pulled them away from their work, so I tried to keep my questions brief. They barely answered anyway, mumbling something-or-other about getting back to work.

Sighing, I turned to Gloria and 'the Doctor', who were apparently trying to translate the demon tablet. They didn't seem to be getting anywhere, though. Gloria rubbed her temples as the Doctor absentmindedly played with his gravity-defying hair.

"So how's it going? I asked quietly. The Doctor smiled absently and patted the seat next to him.

"Not that good. We've gotten about halfway through, but we're stuck on this one part about souls and heaven or something. Wait, just a sec." The eccentric man tapped his forehead and scribbled something down on a scrap of notebook paper. It read 'INNOCENT SOUL'. Deciding not to ask what the Hell that meant, I went on with my makeshift interview.

"What's it like here? I guess you're- I mean, we're slaves, yeah?"

"It's actually not as bad as you expect," Gloria said timidly. "I mean, the hours are long and Crowley's a tyrant, but we stick together. The work is... sort of satisfying, y'know? To finish a section of your tablet is like finishing a chapter of a novel."

"The food's alright as well," the Doctor added enthusiastically. "Nutritious. Crowley can't afford to have any of us starve to death, now, can he? And the beds are extraordinarily comfy for a prison cell- and I would know. An-"

"Doctor!" I interrupted. He grinned toothily.

"You called me Doctor."

"Shut up."

After mindlessly chatting about the sodium daily percentage in the tater tots served on Wednesdays, the Doctor asked to see the Time Lord tablet. Given that he was sort of a Time Lord, I complied.

After struggling to force it out of my iron grip, I very carefully passed it to him. His brown eyes widened as he scanned over the stone block, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table.

"I have to take this," he announced suddenly. "You.. ah... work on the demon tablet with Gloria. Can't have Time Lord secrets falling into the wrong hands, now, can we?" He sat down at another table, grabbing a pen and paper before I could protest.

Now that the tablet was out of my arms, I felt slightly better, less pressured, but I was a little shellshocked. Tablets do weird things to you, and I'd become attached to the thing. Smiling pleasantly at Gloria nevertheless, I switched my focus to the demon tablet.

o-o-o-o-o

Sam woke to chafing cloth and darkness.

He was crudely blindfolded, lying on a cold metal floor. He didn't seem to be tied up for once, which was a relief. Wriggling to a sitting position, he ripped off the rag they'd fastened to his eyes, only to be greeted by the strangest scene he'd ever witnessed.

The first thing he noticed was Dean ramming his shoulder into a heavy metal door. They were in a cell, with three beds and a simple toilet. There were small slits in the door, possibly to look through. Just like a regular American prison,

Wait... three beds?

He slowly turned his head to the left, eyes widening.

That's not possible. He's dead.

Lying on a bed, pointy chin framed by his hands, was the angel Gabriel, smirk and all.

A thin golden chain wove around his wrists, and he had a huge black eye. His entire forehead was covered by a bandage. He looked... emaciated. Tortured, maybe.

Sam was stunned into paralysis.

"Uh... how are you..."

"Alive?" the trickster angel guessed wryly. "It's a long story, involving three cans of Coke, a pinch of magic and the combined energy of a supernova. Oh, and a pocket watch. The pocket watch was the most important part."

Sam cocked one eyebrow. "Really?"

"No," Gabriel sighed, running his nimble fingers through his lank hair. "I tricked Lucifer, okay? It was easy. Just a matter of a body double and a fake wing print. But I had to stay underground- Luci would've actually killed me if he knew I was alive. Thanks for, you know, letting him possess you and running into the cage, and stuff. Then there was that drama with Castiel and Raphy- had to keep myself outta that, obviously. But Crowley found me in the end. Beaten by a demon.. should've known!"

Sam tried to look sympathetic, he really did. But he could never forgive Gabriel for what he did- killing Dean over and over again was just one more emotionally traumatizing event in his life.

Dean had since ceased his assault on the door. He stalked over to Sam, green eyes narrowed in anger.

"Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty? I've been trying to get out of here for hours- and Gabriel here has not been any help whatsoever."

Gabriel smirked, holding up his hands. The golden cuffs glinted in the flickering fluorescent light. "Chains. I can't do anything. No magic allowed. And let me tell you, however strong you are, you won't be able to break down that door."

"Wait, why are you here, Gabe?" Sam asked. "What does Crowley want with you?"

"Prophets," the archangel answered simply. "It's all he ever talks about. Prophets, prophets, prophets. As an archangel with sometimes multi-universal power, I know about all the prophets, everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean everywhere. Every universe. There are millions of prophets, billions, who'll be activated as soon as they get here. Through some wacko torture methods, Crowley makes me transport them here so that he can 'collect' them to be his personal translators..."

"Like Clara," Sam commented.

"Clara Oswald?" Gabriel inquired. "She's a prophet, yes. One of the first that I located. How do you know about her?"

"She was transported into our car," Dean said. "Did you have something to do with that?"

"Maybe." Gabriel grinned cheekily.

There was a sudden knock on the door.

"Gabriel!" a singsong voice demanded. "Time for your daily session!"

The angel froze. "Not again..." he mumbled, seemingly terrified. His hands went to his bandaged forehead.

The door swung open. A cute teenaged girl stood at the doorway, dressed in a nurse's outfit. She held a long needle in her hand, filled with a toxic green liquid.

Sam and Dean ran at her desperately, but she simply raised her hand. The brothers were forced against the wall, grunting. A demon... of course she's a demon, Sam thought. The cute ones always are.

The girl stalked into the cell, swinging her hips. She grabbed Gabriel by the hem of his shirt and dragged him, kicking and screaming out of the cell.

When the door closed, Sam and Dean fell the the ground. Rubbing his back, Sam pounded at the door with all his strength, to no avail.

After who-knows-how-long, they heard distant screaming through the door. It was definitely Gabriel. The brothers somberly talked about what they had found out, but soon they became silent. Time became meaningless.

Suddenly Sam heard something. Something that sounded like.. engines.

He rushed towards the door and peered through the slit in the metal.

"Uh...Dean!" he called.

His brother looked up from the bit of floor he was focused on- that's how bored he was- and ran to see what was happening.

Outside, in the corridor, something was materializing. It was big, box-shaped and the bluest of blues...

The TARDIS. It had finally come back for them.