The Hunt for a Time Lord (A Doctor Who, Supernatural fanfiction)

The Winchester Boys

(I do not own Doctor Who or Supernatural, and sorry if the Doctor doesn't seem british enough. Next chapter now, shall we?)

"He's waking up."

"Well then back up, ya idjit!"

I was tied down to a couch or some kind of bed, that was for sure. My arm kind of hurt, and according to the hair plastered to my head, I was either sweating horribly or something had been dumped on my head. I do hope they hadn't given me a shower or something, because that would be quite awkward. I'd better make sure.

At first, I couldn't make any words come out of my mouth, and probably looked like I couldn't breath or something like that. My eyelids were heavy, and my left shoulder still hurt. I also felt like I was going to empty out my insides onto the floor. As humans would say, I felt like I was going to hurl, I believe it is said.

My voice came out in a whisper.

"What did he say?" a gruff, american sounding voice asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" a similar, but not as gruff voice answered.

"How the (heck) did he get a blue police box to cause that much damage without us seeing him lugging it around or something? That's what I would like to know."

"Sammy, try to hear what he's saying," the gruff voice ordered. Older than 'Sammy' obviously. Or superior, if he's ordering Sammy around.

"Why me, Dean?" 'Sammy' answered, "you do it."

"Fine.... (Dean's favorite swear word to describe his younger brother)."

"Jerk," Sammy answered.

I sensed someone close to me, and I tried to speak again.

"What did he say?" two other voices questioned curiously.

"Please tell me you didn't give me a shower or something," I repeated myself, a little louder.

"He has an accent?" Dean stammered.

"No," I responded sarcastically, I opened my eyes slowly. Alright, in some sort of house, there's grafitti all over the ceiling, and there are three other people. The tallest one had shoulder-length hair, the other had short hair, and the third was a slightly chubby, slightly short man with a baseball cap.

I glanced around at myself, struggling to raise my head as much as I could. As I thought, I was tied to a couch or bed, like one of those cheap beds usually kept in a guest room. And my left arm had been slightly sliced, just a little bit. I felt kind of weak and limp, numb on one side. I must have reacted badly to Tasew's venom. For one thing, one of my hearts wasn't beating, and my immune system was still fighting the venom.

I groaned in pain and slumped my head back against my pillow. My head hurt as well, adding to my list of grievances.

"Let him up, he's human," baseball hat man spoke.

"But, Bobby," Sammy said as if he couldn't believe what the other man had just said.

"But nothing, Sam," Bobby retorted, "let the man up."

With a huff of annoyance, Sam and Dean began to untie me.

As soon as I was free, I sat up and lowered my feet to the floor. My shoes had been taken off, probably put at their door, but I still wore my socks.

"Who are you," Dean asked.

I glanced up at the sound of wings, and my face paled. Were the raven things back? I'm too weak to try and evade them at the moment, and I have no idea how to stop them. I doubted the option that these humans would try to help me out if the Kilmians attacked me.