So... I'm not dead.

Sorry for the long time in between updates. Between AP tests, tech week, and TWO concussions, I've been swamped.

BUT here is the next update!

Amy was angrily unloading the dishwasher. "Can you believe him?" She slammed a plate in a cupboard.

"Don't break anymore dishes," Rory told her absentmindedly. If this kept up, he was going to have to bill the Doctor for the damages. They couldn't afford another dining set. He was busy cleaning up in the other room, freeing it from salt piles, spray paint splatters, puddles of holy water. Though it kept him from Amy's whirlwind of china and cutlery, it didn't mean it was easy. They got footprints on the ceiling for God's sake. The ceiling. How they managed to do as such was a mystery to him. Rory sighed. You'd think they could at least clean up after themselves.

The Doctor and Winchesters had come storming through the TARDIS without any warning. Sam's neck had been blossoming with bruises and he was soaked to the bone, but other than that, the three seemed no worse for wear. Before he could ask any questions, the Doctor was shoving the two of them out of his TARDIS, babbling about having to be off, using the voice he had that was meant to hide panic, but every time Rory heard that voice he either almost died or actually did die. The eccentric man mentioned being back in time for tea before slamming the doors in their faces. Rory hadn't been too surprised by this. Actually, after popping out of a cake at his bachelor party, the Doctor rarely managed to surprise him. Amy, however, wasn't happy. He winced as she pounded mugs onto the top shelf. Yep. Definitely not happy.

"He just pops in after weeks, all bouncy and happy. He takes us to pick up his mysterious friends, wrecks the living room, and then poof. He leaves. Unbelievable. He could have at least had the decency to take us home instead of making us walk four blocks!" She yelled the last part toward the window, as though that meant the Doctor would hear her.

"Uh huh." Rory only nodded. He knew Amy would rant a while (i.e. all next month), but it didn't really worry him. The Doctor would come back. Though it isn't always when they'd like, he does. What he was more concerned about was explaining his disappearance today to his boss... That is the fourth time I've up and left in the middle of a shift. And couldn't exactly tell everyone that demons were invading his neighborhood and a dual-hearted alien had needed him to come and meet up with an anti-social detective and a monster-hunting pair of brothers. Just the thought made his head hurt. What has my life become?

The window behind him reverberated; a hollow bang reached his ears. Rory jumped in surprise and tripped over the carpet. He fell into the windowsill, and the line of salt went flying. Rory looked up and found himself face to face with a little girl. She couldn't have been more than six, looking even younger with the ribbons in her hair. She smiled at him and her big blue eyes flicked black. Oh no. Rory gasped and scrambled to fix the line. Smoke exploded from the girl's mouth and into Rory. He fell backwards, but couldn't scream, though God, he tried. The girl outside collapsed, and didn't move.

"Rory?" Amy called. She heard a crash and peeked in the doorway. "Rory? You okay?" He was on the floor, disoriented. "Oi! Stupid. What did you do now?" She sighed, holding back a chuckle, and went to help him up.

"I- I don't know... I guess I tripped. Just a bit clumsy. Sorry, dear." Amy tilted her head.

"Dear?" That didn't sound like Rory. Sarcasm? Yes. Dry humor? Every day of the week. But pet names...

"Should I call you something else," He looked up and smiled. His eyes were black. "Honey?" Amy bolted, not caring to make small talk. Her once-husband chuckled, took a book from the shelf behind him, leafing through its pages. Amy saw none of this. She ran for the back, opening her mouth to call for the Doctor, when the copy of Pandora's Box slammed down on her skull. She didn't remember his arms wrapping around her as she fell.

"An ambulance is on the way," John told the inhabitants of the flat as he hung up the phone. Without waiting for any sort of reply, he knelt down next to his landlady. Mrs. Hudson hadn't moved since the demon left her and her skin was deathly pale. When John had first tried to find the source of the injury, Dean warned them it could kill her just by possessing her. Humans weren't meant to host demons, or something like that. He hadn't gotten much more out before Sam elbowed him. Sherlock was over on the couch, delved deep into his mind palace.

God knows what he's thinking about... John was surprised he even could think after everything that had happened, though he knew he should stop being surprised. Sherlock usually reacted to emergency by trying to throw a party. John could've laughed at the ridiculous image, but the sallow woman on the floor seemed to have cemented a grimace on his face. He barely registered the doctor approaching him. "How is she looking?"

"So far, so good. Her pulse and breathing are functioning soundly at a normal rate, and she seems stable."

"She's tough old girl," John commented. He looked over and caught Sherlock's eye. The detective raised an eyebrow and John nodded. The alien saw their brief exchange and misunderstood. He tried to smile.

"Sorry, we'll, uh, be out of your hair in a second. Dean just wanted to-"

"We're coming with you." The Doctor froze, then closed his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

"John and I are coming with you, after we leave Mrs. Hudson with Mycroft. It's clear these demons will go after everyone involved which now includes the two of us." Sherlock didn't add what he was really thinking. He was going to go after the bastard who possessed Mrs. Hudson.

"YOU IDIOT!" Crowley bellowed. The demon in the pathetic body in front of him cowered.

"B-but my lord... I don't understand..." He had done everything right, he had done just as his king had ordered.

"You grabbed another human you imbecile! You bloody twit!" He moved to strike the RoryDemon but the demon scurried away like a rat.

"Mercy! Lord, please... I have her husband, just as you asked!" Crowley froze.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

"The husband, I have the husband!" He squealed, desperate. He knew the king's wrath, hell, he had implemented it a few times. And though it was fun to be the punisher, he didn't want to experience the other end of Crowley's wrath.

"YOU BLITHERING-" The demon cringed away from the next onslaught of screams and was certain torture wasn't far away. But Crowley had stopped. He was no longer glaring at him, as though he could drill through the demon's skull. He had actually paled, leaning back against his desk, eyes filled with unimaginable horror and the demon saw something he thought was impossible.

The king of Hell laughed.

It was no ordinary laugh, no mocking chuckle, but a laugh of absolute abandon. He had to lean on the desk for support, unable to stop the jubilant spasms from shaking him. Tears sprung to his eyes and yet he was laughing too hard to wipe them away. The demon at his feet didn't move a muscle, afraid to disturb even a particle of air. Any movement could mean his death, he was sure of it. Hell, he was practically a dead man kneeling. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for pain. Crowley noticed the slight movement as the demon below him cowered, but he was much too exuberant to be annoyed. "Up on your feet, idiot," he ordered, as he stepped over the cowering figure. He strode across the room with purpose, eyes locked on the red-haired damsel lying on a stone altar. Her image was almost ethereal among this darkness, red locks like fire. He had to admit, it was a nice change of pace from the lurking meat-heads and busty blondes his demons seemed to prefer.

"It turns out our guest is a tad more promiscuous than I originally thought." He trailed his fingers along her hair, noting how cold she was. That's unfortunate. He couldn't have her in less than perfect condition when her precious Doctor came to save her. The thought of the name made him scowl. He had been told the two were a couple. They had at least shared a snogging session before, he had pictures as proof. He assumed the stick-in-the-ass blonde was an awkward third wheel, not the other way around. Whatever dumbass had made this mistake was going to wish he'd been given to his hell hounds as a chew toy-

The train of thought screeched to a halt. He suddenly realized he couldn't recall who had told him the Doctor and the girl were a couple. And that was something that didn't just happen. Though humans grew decrepit with age, his mind sharpened over the last few centuries. He didn't just forget things.

Yes I have. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut and he covertly tightened his grip on stone slab. The scotch. The broken glass. The memory of it falling was lost to him. "What the bugger is going on around here?" he murmured, turning back to his still-bowed lackey. He was surprised the fool hadn't yet pissed his pants.

Momentarily distracted, Crowley paid no mind to the form that stepped out from behind the pillar. But that was okay. The form cared not for his existence either. It was all too entranced by the pale woman lying prone on the sacrificial altar. The wrinkled fingers nearly mimicked Crowley's earlier movements, trailing along the auburn mane. Crowley and his lackey saw none of this, engaged in a discussion over the next plan of action. This too was okay. For even if they had seen the form, they were sure to forget.