Hell

Everything was white and black, all at the same time. Sometimes heat would blister her skin, sometimes a numbing cold would freeze over new scars. Amy felt groggy and drunk – her emotions and reactions had been dulled and slowed. The will to fight off all this pain being thrown at her was extremely slim,

"Amelia..." A voice crooned in her ear – she could not tell whether it was male or female, her brain wouldn't work. Without realising they were shut in the first place, Amy opened her hazel eyes slowly,

"Awake now, I see?" The same voice chimed. Amy could now recognise it was male, but not a familiar one. After forcing herself to think, she remembered the voice had an Irish accent.

Blinking hard, Amy grunted. She tried to sit up – registering she was laying down – but seemed to be tied on to a metal table. Instead, she lifted her head – seeing she was naked under leather straps across her chest and hip areas. Her ankles and wrists were bound with metal chains, tight and irritating on her fair skin.

For the first time, she saw the owner of the voice – an average height man in a suit, with dark hair and dark eyes. When she looked again, she realised the dark eyes were completely solid obsidian; no whites and no irises at all. Amy's face contorted in shock, causing the man to throw his head back and cackle,

"Never seen a demon? I wonder if your dear Sherlock has mentioned me. After all, I died right in front of him before he burnt in the very place you are now, Amelia," The man chuckled ominously, stepping towards Amy, brushing his fingers across her lightly freckled face. Instead of feeling soft, his hand seemed to slice her cheek like razor sharp blades – causing blood to leak and Amy to whimper like a puppy. The man simply chuckled, then walked across the room – if it was a room.

"John Watson was exactly the same as you. But then I brought him here – didn't I, John?"

"Let me go!" A voice growled, sounding hungry and raw. The tone caused Amy to shiver,

"But now, Amelia, he's going to host one of us. He, too, will be like me – demon. All powerful, and you are going to watch." The man in the suit ignored the cry of John. Amy could not see him at this angle, so wasn't sure what was going on.

Like a dentist chair, the metal bed moved so Amy could see John – a middle aged looking man, whose face was scarred and bloody. Chunks of hair had been torn from his head, revealing a too-pink scalp.

The man with dark hair snapped his fingers, summoning what seemed to be black smoke – the room immediately stank of Amy's old chemistry lab at school. She gagged; the odour was strong on her weakened lungs,

"Watch." The man flicked his hand; causing Amy to crane her neck so quickly it could have been broken. When she tried to move it from discomfort, she couldn't – it had been fixed.

The black smoke spiralled around John, then seemed to prise open his mouth – causing John to make a muffled choking sound, then splutter like a child. The dark substance rolled effortlessly into his mouth as he struggled, until it was all gone. John slumped and then laid still, eyes shut.

The man began undoing the chains on John – who was clothed, unlike Amy. She assumed he was dead, and that the man had murdered him.

However, Amy's thoughts were wrong – John sat up, eyes darker than night, a psychotic grin on his once scarred face. Now all the wounds were healing too fast to be possible,

"By the way, Amelia," The man placed his hand on John's shoulder, "My name is Jim Moriarty."

/\/\/\/\

Central Park

Meg was bored of the usual bitchy fights between all the men she knew – and they thought girls were bad. Her boots clicked furiously on the path through Central Park, and were interrupted by the dull thudding of what could only be her unicorn's smart shoes,

"Were those ladies too much for you, Clarence?" Meg purred sarcastically, not bothering to look at her angel. A stop in his footsteps caused the demon to stop with him,

"They're males, Meg. I think you've mistaken genders," Cas replied innocently with his raspy voice, his eyes big and blue. The demon turned around, a smirk on her too-red lips,

"I must say, it's very cute when you don't get sarcasm, Clarence. Big baby in a trench coat, that's all you are," She strode up to him, so close that their bodies were barely 3 inches apart. Even in high heeled boots, however, Cas was at least six inches taller than Meg's petite meatsuit. The angel had a sudden look of surprise on his face, which made the demon's stomach tingle slightly.

Cas was a stranger to emotions. As an angel, they were not particularly felt – so when he had taken over Jimmy Novak's body he had suddenly begun to feel everything humans felt. They were hard to define and still were at that moment. All he knew was that he could not stop thinking of the incident between the two of them to do with the Pizza Man,

"Meg, I need some help," Cas started, his face holding an expression of concern. Meg backed away slightly, her dark lips parted,

"With what? How to understand sarcasm? It'll come with time, Clarence," The demon smirked,

"No... Not that," The angel frowned and tilted his head, not entirely sure how to say what he wanted to say, "There is a strange... tingling sensation in my stomach,"

Meg laughed loudly, "You probably ate something funny," She poked his stomach playfully, but Cas kept a serious expression,

"No, Meg. I feel the strange tingling whenever I'm near you," The angel looked at his too-shiny black shoes, feeling another emotion that made him want to curl up in a ball and hide away for hours. His heart began thudding in his chest, sweat began making his neck sticky, "Sorry, I believe I need to get medical advice, my heart isn't supposed to have palpitations," The angel wiped the back of his neck, unsure as to why he was leaking. He slid his damp hand along his trench coat, not liking the feel of the sticky substance.

The demon before him chuckled, mostly at Cas, but partly at herself. Was her unicorn harbouring a crush? She couldn't deny it was very cute,

"Clarence, you don't need any medicine for that. It's normal," She said, deciding to ignore her urge to be snarky and rude. The demon cautiously stepped back towards her unicorn, smiling genuinely, "You've got a crush,"

Cas' eyebrows furrowed even more, "That sounds rather violent," his chapped lips parted, which made the demon's eyes flicker to and from them.

"You could say that," Meg drawled, then pushed her hand to his shoulder, "Now it's my turn to be the Pizza Man,"

Meg tangled her arms around the angel's neck and kissed him full on the mouth, which was unexpected by the angel. A rush of something coiled in his stomach – a good something, which made him want to kiss the demon back. He found himself subconsciously putting his slender hands on Meg's waist and tilting his head, kissing her back with force. It was the second time he'd kissed Meg, and he didn't deny he liked kissing her far more than expected.

Cas felt Meg's small hands latch on to the undone belt of his overcoat, pulling him even closer to the demon than he already was. Remembering the Pizza Man's actions towards the babysitter, he shoved his hand roughly into Meg's hair – the silky texture pleasant on his rough hands. The demon seemed to sigh in content, which please Cas even more.

Back by the TARDIS, where The Doctor and Sam argued, Dean looked up. All he saw was his best friend making out with Meg, and he couldn't deny it hurt him. Meg was teasing Cas along to get what she wanted like demons do – dammit. He rolled his eyes, then smacked his brother's shoulder,

"Would you stop whining? Our freaking angel is having sexy time with our not-so-friend demon," Dean pointed in their direction with an unamused expression. Sam looked over, along with The Doctor,

"Oh for God's sake," The Time Lord moaned, "I have enough of that with Amy and Rory!" He straightened his bow tie and gulped, then looked away, "They're getting a little inappropriate – "

"Why do you care, Dean? They've had their eye on each other for ages," The younger Winchester said, pushing away thoughts of Amy. He felt stupid – It was just her name, "It's about time Cas got laid, right? He's been a virgin for like two thousand years – I thought you were determined to get him hooked up?"

"Not with her!" Dean spat.

The Doctor stared at Sam and Dean in horror, never having had these sorts of conversations in the thousand years he'd been alive. Even River never – okay. River did bring those things up; The Doctor just ignored her and blushed quietly,

"Son of a bitch," Dean murmured, then marched towards the angel and demon, who were tied together like a damn shoelace. When his brother was a few metres away, Sam leaned towards The Doctor,

"Sometimes I really wonder if he's crushing on Cas, but then I remember Dean only likes his car that way," He tried to joke, but The Doctor didn't seem to understand. Sam sighed, deciding to go find Rory to sort out their problem.

Meg smiled into another kiss, liking the feeling of Cas' fingers wound up in her hair. She couldn't deny she'd wanted to kiss the angel for a long time, but was convinced he was too naive to understand romance in the slightest. Apparently not,

"Would you get your hands off each other?" The deep voice of Dean grunted, infuriating Meg. Instead of letting go instantly like Cas seemed to try to, she lengthened the kiss by a couple dragging seconds before pulling away,

"Problem?" She licked her lip, now salmon pink, with her hand still on Cas' shoulder. The angel looked guilty, his lips reddened from Meg's lipstick,

"Yes, I have a problem. Stop playing around with him," Dean scowled at the demon, then looked at his best friend. He looked ridiculous – tie pulled away messily, lips coated in lipstick. Dean sighed, "I can't believe you'd fall for that one, Cas! Out of the girl's you pick that!"

Annoyed, Dean strode back to the TARDIS, seeing Sherlock lurking by it, swiping his hand across his face in annoyance.

/\/\/\/\

Rory sat in the TARDIS console room, face in his hands. First he'd cried, then he'd screamed, then he'd ended up where he was. Feeling like a sulking toddler, Rory thought about making a deal with a demon – it couldn't be that bad. He'd just... offer up a lot of money.

He heard the TARDIS doors creak open, so looked up. To his disappointment, it was Sam. All of this was his fault,

"What do you want?" Rory shot at him, wiping his face in case there was any excess moisture.

Coldness crept up Sam's spine, just like when he told The Doctor about demon deals, causing his head to twitch. He walked grandly towards the Centurion, suddenly feeling angry and determined to cause chaos,

"You can get Amy back in a demon deal," Sam said, though it felt like someone else had said it. He tried to frown in confusion, but his face didn't seem to let him,

"Dean said they're bad – is that true?" Rory looked up hopefully, his elbows on his knees. He was happy Sam was trying to help – but had the side thought he wanted to bring Amy back for himself,

"It's... risky. But I'm sure you'll be fine," The younger Winchester tilted his head, his brain telling him not to talk, but it wouldn't obey him. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. It was a page ripped from a book on summoning demons, which definitely hadn't been there before, "Here, now go get your girl," he said, reaching his hand out to give the paper to Rory, a content smirk pulling at his lips. Inwardly, Sam was trying to pull away – but he couldn't.

Rory took the paper, then smiled. He rushed away to what could only be his bedroom, set on summoning a demon, thanks to Sam.

What a naughty boy, Sam. I know you've got a thing for his wife... But sending his soul to hell? Really? That's pretty low.

Sam turned around unwillingly, seeing Lucifer leaning against the closed TARDIS doors. His face was more scarred than it had been in every other hallucination, and he was dressed in a white suit. Inside his head, Sam was picturing his scar – but Lucifer was not disappearing,

Go to your room, Sammy. I'm very disappointed in you.

Lucifer flicked his wrist, and instantly Sam began walking to the room he'd been given by The Doctor. He continued forcefully stomping to his room, until he stood inside – the cold chill dispersed, causing Sam to drop to the floor and groan loudly.

What the hell had he done? He needed to stop Rory – but the feeling, that feeling had only ever come up around Rory. He knew if he tried to stop Rory, he'd just be interrupted.

Maybe he could tell Dean? He shoved his hand into his pocket, grabbing his phone – trying to dial his brother's number. However, the feeling came again – stopping him from typing and instead making him put his phone back in his pocket. After the feeling disappeared again, Sam yelled in frustration.

Something was happening to him again, and he knew he'd have to deal with it alone.

/\/\/\/\

Sherlock leaned against the TARDIS, hands in his pockets. Crowley had shocked him, possibly even scared him. How's the lone wolf of the pack? I can still see Hell's fire in your eyes, boy.

He could remember the constant pain and feeling of his soul being battered by the hammer that was Hell; all the memories were fresh. With a grunt, he leaned away from the TARDIS, only to see Dean in front of him,

"Hey," Dean got his attention. Sherlock stood up straighter, a habit he had developed to show authority. His head tilted ever so slightly as he spoke,

"What do you want, Dean?" He sighed. Unlike The Doctor, Dean was taller than The Detective,

"Crowley said something about you and Hell... Did you..?" The older Winchester started, but didn't need an answer – he saw it written all over Sherlock's face, even though he tried to hide it. Dean sighed, peering at the floor momentarily before edging closer to the British man,

"Dean, you wouldn't understand – "

"Actually, yes I do. I've been in the Pit too, buddy," The hunter push his shoulder against the TARDIS, fiddling with his hands, "I sold my soul for my brother's life, man. He got murdered – long story. Then I went to Hell a year later. Then Cas... He got me out. Four months I was down there, felt like forty damn years. He saved me, and I owe him everything," Dean stared at his hands, feeling as if he'd been too vulnerable. He waited for Sherlock's reaction, which wasn't what he expected,

"Did you burn? Did you burn and burn and then regenerate and burn some more?" Sherlock questioned, his voice monotone. Dean chewed his lip before replying,

"At first I did, then after the first ten years I began torturing souls," He looked up, seeing Sherlock staring at him, "Did you torture?"

"I wasn't there for that long," He replied, "I was the one being tortured."

Dean didn't know Sherlock, but had assumed he was a very pompous and antisocial man. Despite this, the hunter pat his shoulder, looking him in the eye,

"If you ever feel low, which you will, believe me, I'm here to help, man," Dean nodded briefly, then moved his hand. Sherlock's face remained straight,

"I shall keep that in mind."

/\/\/\/\

"Sam?"

The younger Winchester sat on the floor of his bedroom, back against the cool wall, his face buried in his large hands. The sound of the voice caught his attention, so he moved them out the way.

Stood in the doorway, The Doctor sheepishly tugged at his jacket. Clearly, he was not one for comforting, "Are you alright?"

Wishing he could reply truthfully, Sam simply replied: "I'm fine, Doc," With an unconvincing tone. The Time Lord smiled slightly, then trotted towards him and sat next to the larger man,

"I can see you're not fine. Apparently you're never fine, but now you're more not-fine than normal," The Doctor rambled, then looked at Sam, who had become interested by a hole in his jeans, "...Is it Amy?"

No.

"Something like that," The unwanted chill tugged at the small of his back, forcing him to look back at the Time Lord. The expression returned was the typical one – I knew it. Sam tried to sigh, but once again he could not, "I mean, I've barely spoken to her, I have no right to be sad –"

"Yes you do. Once you walk into this TARDIS, you're part of the gang!" The Doctor chimed, but was given a straight expression back. He was awkward – he hated having conversations about lovers and loving and all that mush that he didn't understand at all,

"It's her name. The first girl I had a crush on... She was called Amelia Pond – she also shortened it to Amy. Then she ended up being a kitsune – basically she killed people – and it wasn't really... Well. You can guess it was bad. It was her mom though, killing things, and then Amy killed her mom. Then she ran off... Haven't seen her since," The cold feeling forced Sam to talk, although never would he have said any of that out loud – not even to Dean. Inside, he was getting more and more frustrated,

"Oh." The Doctor replied simply, not entirely sure how to handle the situation. He shuffled uncomfortably, then gulped,

"I mean... Amy was just a crush. And now this Amy... I don't know. She's very pretty," The thing controlling Sam made him smile, "It's my fault she's gone, though. I've gotta fix it, Doc,"

"It's alright, Sam. We can all help fix it," The Doctor patted the hunter's arm once, then heaved himself off the floor. Sam stay sat, watching the Time Lord with his sea coloured eyes, "I think you like three letter nicknames. Cas, Amy, Doc... Hope you feel better, Sam," Chuckling slightly, The Doctor turned, walking in his usual style to the door of the bedroom.

Now The Doctor was gone, the feeling deceased, and Sam hurriedly stood up. Frustration overtook him, and he launched his fist at the wall – which was, in fact, solid metal. The younger Winchester hissed in pain, feeling his knuckles crack from the force. Wincing, he held his injured hand with the other, resting his forehead on the wall.

I think you need some help there, Sammy -

"Shut up!" Sam roared back at the hallucination, who once again wore the white suit. His expression shifted to mock-confusion, along with a sickly smirk.

Finally! I've been wanting you to talk to me for ages, Sammy. It gets awfully boring when you ignore me for four months. So what's the gossip?

Consumed with an uncontainable anger, Sam stormed out of his room and into the console room – which was empty, of course – and thrust open the TARDIS doors once he reached them. He could see Cas looking guilty whilst Meg seemed to lecture him about something; his brother talking to Sherlock, and The Doctor stood with them. Rory was obviously still inside, pouring over summoning a demon to get back his freaking wife, thanks to Sam.

With a flutter, Cas appeared beside Sam, his usual expression of confusion or possibly interest on his face. His head tilted; Sam looked down at him,

"There's energies coming from you, Sam," Cas stated, concerned. Sam huffed loudly, clenching his fists – but yelped in pain as his injured fist tensed. Ignoring the fact he was in public, he screamed the first swear word that came into mind as loudly as possible – hearing it echo around the area they were stood. It attracted the attention of all of the "crew" – who turned to him - along with every other member of the public who'd heard his cry. They probably already thought they were strange – they had a massive blue British Police Box, which was strange even for New York,

"I've barely ever heard you swear, let alone scream it to the heavens, Sammy," Dean commented, smirking at first – then noticed his brother was clearly in pain, so jogged over and grasped his younger brother's shoulders, "What did you do?"

Sam didn't want to speak, so lifted his obviously broken hand. Dean stared at it, confused, "What the hell, man?"

Cas, knowing the usual drill, placed his hand on Sam's broken one and willed it to heal – but it wouldn't. The angel frowned; trying again – but it wouldn't heal,

"Cas, what are you doing?" Dean grumbled, watching his friend stare at his hand intently,

"It won't heal..." The angel blinked hard, becoming slightly overwhelmed by the aura radiating from Sam – it was identical to the one he'd felt from the Weeping Angel, just not as strong and without the Enochian rumbling in his ears, "Sam, there's something wrong with you,"

"No there isn't," The thing controlling Sam said, but it was clear Cas could sense it – his lips parted and he shifted in understanding. He lifted two fingers to Sam's forehead, and unintentionally backed away,

"Sam... Let me help," The angel tried placing his fingers on Sam's forehead – but the younger hunter kept backing away. Dean latched his hands around his brother's arms, pressing his lips together firmly,

"The hell is wrong with you, man?" He said forcefully in his brother's face, but Sam continued backing up, "Cas!"

Rapidly, the angel touched his palm to the younger Winchester's face – feeling the creature inside his friend's mind. He groaned, attempting to eradicate it – but it was like there was a wall made of solid iron in his way. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, tugging violently at the pest,

"Cas, you're burning him – stop!" Dean shoved away Cas' arm, causing the angel's eyes to open. A smell of burnt flesh hung in the air – it didn't take Cas long to realise why. A hand print was scorched across Sam's face – which was quickly hidden behind his hands as he knelt to the floor, clearly in a lot of pain,

"C'mon Sam, dammit," Dean grunted, tugging at his brother, "Sammy," He coaxed.

Sam swore repeatedly again, his hand was aching in an indescribable way; his face was scorched and he could literally feel the blisters forming. As his brother shoved his hands under his shoulders, Sam cooperated – still swearing. He could hear them walk into the TARDIS, along with what was probably everyone else. After about a minute, the younger Winchester felt himself fall back on something soft – a bed, clearly. Probably his own,

"What are we gonna do?" The deep voice of his brother dripped with concern, "Anybody got any bandages or whatever... Since Cas burnt his goddamn face off,"

Cas shuffled in the doorway next to Meg, which annoyed Dean even more. He despised the fact they decided to go and eat each other's faces off,

"Rory's a nurse!" The Doctor cried out merrily, "I'll go find him," Dull footsteps could be heard leaping down the TARDIS corridor until they faded away – leaving Dean, Meg, Cas and Sherlock with Sam. He still had his hands over his face, but had stopped swearing to viciously,

"He has a Weeping Angel inside him," Cas stated, which earned glances from everyone in the room, "The vision he had... He saw one. Only, back then, the angel was blocking me from knowing it – I remember now. Whatever takes the image of an angel is an angel – so when Sam saw it..." The angel trailed off, stepping closer to Sam,

"Son of a bitch," Dean grumbled, placing his hand on Sam's large foot, "Hang in there, Sammy."

The younger Winchester groaned in reply, too consumed in pain to be able to form words that weren't the swearing kind. He heard Sherlock sigh,

"We should really apply something cold to his face, don't you think?" He said in his typical tone, aiming it at Dean. The hunter shrugged, not sure what to reply – but was interrupted by The Doctor running into the doorway,

"Rory's gone," He panted, holding a bag – which was Dean's. The hunter folded his arms, recognising it, "And so's half your demonic rubbish."