The Unexpected (A SuperWhoLock Fanfiction)

Eleven: Preparation and Comfort

Eleven: Preparation and Comfort

As soon as the Doctor left, everyone got to work. Sam and Dean didn't hesitate to bring every weapon and every item from the trunk of the Impala, sorting through everything. By the time they finished carrying everything inside, my living room looked like a World War II base.

I spent an hour practicing sigil patterns on paper before I could help spray paint them. I spent most of the time with Castiel, spraying devil traps under welcome mats and rugs, while the Winchesters created warding signs in red paint on the windows and siding.

Now that my bedroom was cleared of the TARDIS, Sherlock and John had taken to boarding up the hole in my ceiling with old planks found lying out back. It had been a porch project my father had put off until after their trip. Unfortunately, my father might have to buy more after all this.

It was nearly sunset by the time we finished, turning our quaint, peaceful abode into a preventive bunker. I stood outside, my arms crossed, half of me admiring and the other half filled with dread. If we all survived this, the house would probably be even more of a wreck with predicted bullet holes and overall destruction, and my parents would probably die at the sight. They'd always told me to take my time in finding my own place, but, after this, they might just beg me to leave.

The worst part in all of this was not knowing when to expect our first attack. Sam had a feeling that Crowley might send enemies in waves rather than an ambush under the guise of suffering and pain. We also didn't know what ratio to be expecting; whether it be more creatures from the Winchesters universe, or the Doctor's; any from Sherlock and John's universe were human, and could be shot dead easily.

"The Daleks don't usually take orders from anyone," I explained, sitting on the sofa between Castiel and John, "They may have only agreed to help Crowley with the barrier for the sake of pressuring the Doctor. The thing we have to look out for is the Daleks turning against Crowley. If whatever he sends doesn't take us out, the Daleks will do it themselves to see that the Doctor loses everything before he can save it."

"So, what you're saying is," Sam started, "We can't kill a Dalek?"

"You can, but it's nearly impossible. The only person they fear most is the Doctor, and even with him, they've only ended up retreating. In fact, there's a lot in the Doctor's universe that can't be so easily defeated, and that's what I'm worried about."

"Hey, everything's got a way of dying, Cece," Dean grunted, slamming a clip into his pistol with his palm. He set it back down on the coffee table after flipping on the safety. "I like a little bit of a challenge anyway."

"This isn't a game, Dean," Sherlock jeered, pushing himself from against the wall. "There are things out there your small mind couldn't possibly fathom-- things far more advanced than your human weaponry, and things that will put us on the defensive."

"Glad to hear your finally accepting some of this, Sherlock," John drawled.

"It's because I'm forced to. I've heard a lot of things I don't want to accept, but I also want to survive long enough to get home. I should hope the lot of you feel the same."

"So, we're put up against some robots," Sam shrugged. "We've got more than just guns. Something's gotta bring them down."

"It's not just robots," I said. "The Daleks are widely intellegent, Cybermen are resistant and strong. You can kill them, but the effort in which to do so could tire us out; weaken us so we can't even take down a werewolf or a hell hound, perhaps even vice versa."

Sam paused to consider it, while Castiel inclined his head toward me, squinting. "Cece, there's something you're not telling us." I looked to the angel, his eyes crinkling with suspicion. "There's something your certainly afraid of."