The baby started crying.
Castiel was unconscious, his face buried in squishy, acrid-smelling bits of borax calamari.
The Doctor was sticking half out of a wall, clutching his side. Dean was unconscious at the base of a square décor pillar.
Shub Niggurath sighed contentedly as it reached Sam's fingers, dark and fat with black veins, into the makeshift crib of pizza boxes and torn silk robe strips where the Doctor's newborn daughter was bawling her little shut eyes out.
"NOW WE CAN BE ALONE, MY LITTLE PEARL ONION! I THINK I'll EAT YOU WITH A NICE PIECE OF FISH! WASH YOU DOWN WITH SOME ANGEL'S BLOOD AND A SIDE OF BROILED WINCHESTER!"
As it cackled from Sam's lips, it didn't notice the Doctor slip silently from the hole in the wall his broken body had made.
It didn't notice him hiding in its huge curving shadow as he came up behind it, and…
…
…
… plunged his arm down Sam Winchester's throat.
"Ingrid Bergman's hair is lighter! Plus she smelled better!" the Doctor bellowed, countless fires ablaze in his ancient and terrible eyes, "That's my daughter, not your bento you overgrown box troll! Do you hear me? She's MINE!"
Shub Niggurath gasped in breathless surprise.
"GLUR! DKTR! YOU…WLL NOT… GRK. SKSD…"
Suddenly tentacles erupted from Sam's ears and swatted the Doctor away, into another wall. This time though, the Time Lord stayed down, one wet hand clenched in a fist.
But just then, Sam's possessor looked down, into the face of the baby he was so bent on consuming.
The eyes opened.
Light sparkled behind those iridescent orbs, and…
Something…
The black tentacles fell away from Sam's ears, crumbling into dust. The black sclera disappeared from his eyes, and he fell to the ground.