It's My Life (A superwholock fanfiction)

Paranoia

"Who would want to take Dean?" I asked Sam as Sherlock and John walked into the Tardis.

"Probably the same people who took Clara." The Doctor piped in. I looked at him with annoyance, and he was as oblivious to it as always.

"Someone took Clara?!? When did you plan on telling me this?" The Doctor didn't look at me, speaking in a low tone as he proceeded to fiddle with the controls.

"We went when you were getting John and Sherlock. Now we're going to see who puts their hands in the Tardis circuits first, me or Sam."

"Yeah, you decide that, I've gotta get something from my room." I darted through the corridors, afraid this was going to the last time I'd see them. Third right, second left, last door down. Two gold numbers were plastered on the front, 42, and it was painted to match the door of 221b. I gripped the brass knob, and took in the room one last time. Nothing much. The walls were somewhere between a light and royal purple, inspired by WTNV. All my hidden posters and collectibles were in here, ranging from a brochure from Midnight to a gem from an intergalactic market. But I wasn't there to reminisce, so I grabbed the laptop on my desk and headed back toward the guys.

"What's with the laptop?" John asked, as I leaned it against one of the railings.

"I ... may have set up video cameras in several places." All of them looked at me, but I ignored it as I pulled the program. "I've got trust issues, alright! Now, do you want Baby's dash cam or bunker vid feed?"

"First," Sam spoke up this time. "Just because you have trust issues doesn't mean you should set up 24/7 surveillance on us."

"You sound like my therapist." I sighed under my breath.

"Therapist?" The Doctor questioned, as I'd never mentioned to either him or Sam.

"It was mom's idea to get a shrink. It was to quote 'cure my emotional trauma' after my sister was killed. Then she did it to help with 'my social anxiety' after the divorce. My dad didn't give a crap about it."

"Second," Sam continued. "Do the dash-cam. Seems more likely place to take Dean if he's on a hunt than in the bunker." I pulled up the video from the Impala, seeing it parked on the side of a dirt road with a cracked front window. I rewound the video, pausing at a particularly interesting point. Dean was being thrown into the window by something. Part of the Mark was visible, and it seemed to be glowing.

"Oh, Dean, what did you do?" I muttered to myself.

"Let me see that quick." Sam pulled the laptop away, and looked a closer spot on the image. He zoomed in on it, then slowly backed away with his hands on his head. I looked at the zoomed in portion. There was a man, dressed in all black about to snap his fingers. He wore a smug smile on his face, and had a Angel blade in his hand.

"Whose that?" John asked, making me jump a little. I thought it was just the two of us in the bunker, not the four of us in the Tardis.

"Crowley, otherwise known as the King of Hell." Sam responded.

"You've met the King of Hell?"

"As far as I know, they've been to Hell." I comment, and Sam nods in agreement. John mouth is open wide, probably wondering what he just exactly got into. Sherlock was just standing against one of the railings, eyes darting across every imaginable surface. The Doctor was father away than the rest of us, looking like he was hiding something.

"Sam, put your hands in the telepathic circuits. I need to talk to the Doctor a second." I didn't check to see whether he did it or not. When I got over to him, I knew exactly what to ask him. "What did the shifter tell you?"

"Well, considering we know who it is..."

"Things never go our way, Doctor. You know better than most. Now, we are about to walk into something that I'm 85% sure it's a trap. That information could be the difference between losing and the upper hand. Tell me what it said."

The Doctor stood silent for a minute, before sighing and responding. "Listen for the drums." I was about to ask what he meant, but he held up his hand as he continued. "It's a reference to an old enemy and even older friend, The Master. Or as she now goes by, Missy."

"Fantastic." I muttered to myself as the Tardis quieted down. I looked back at the boys, who were now staring at the doors. I walked over to the doors, ready to find Clara and Dean and get this over with.

"You do realize this is a trap right?" John told me, and I rolled my eyes. I turned toward him, a mischievous grin spread across my face.

"Have you met us?" I responded, indicating everyone in the Tardis. I pushed open the doors, and head out. It wasn't an elaborate room, just metallic grey walls about 10 feet tall and ten feet long. The thing that troubled me was there was no door. The others filled out after me, and I'm sure everyone noticed the same thing. Nobody said a word though, since they also knew why there wasn't a door. That was the point. But it wasn't as troubling as when the Tardis started to take off.

"No no no no no no." The Doctor muttered, as the familiar Vwrop Vwrop filled the air once more.

"Why is it taking off?" I asked. "It's one of the most secure ships in the world."

"Someone's controlling it remotely."

"Well, whose able to do that?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. They have to have some way to access the Tardis from the inside." The Doctor responded as the Tardis faded away.

"Holes." Sherlock stated, ignoring our conversation.

"Sorry. Holes?" John questioned, and I smiled. Even in a weird situation that neither was comfortable with, they still fell back into their usual rhythm.

"Whoever planned out this room was very precise. They had no door for escape and a small room for a small amount of people. But why holes?"

That's when the gas hit. I was toward the center of the room, so I didn't notice it at first. But when Sherlock hit the ground hard, I had a feeling. Sam got it next, knees bending as he let gravity do its job. After that it was just a steady stream of it, making the rest of us cough. John was out fairly quickly, but I luckily fared better. I was toward the center of the room, so I was able to cover my mouth and nose before I was hit. But the edges of vision was dancing with black, so I knew it was long before I was also down for the count. The Doctor must have lasted longer than me, but I wasn't going to check.

As I started to clock out, I saw a woman above me. Black boots clicked onto the metal floor as she appeared above me. She had a purple Victorian style dress on, and a vortex manipulator on her wrist. Her long red fingernails tapped out a simple rhythm as I fell in unconsciousness.

Bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum