The Timelord & The Prophet

-An inferno swirled above her. Unable to move she cried out in a wail that hurt her own ears. There was a soothing hum as someone picked her up. Her eyes slowly turned away from the flaming ceiling to her savior. His face was a blur to her infant eyes, but glossy marbled orbs of yellow that were his eyes was clear and frightened her even more. Shiny white teeth peeked through his lips as he smiled. –
Jocelyn awoke in a cold sweat, her heart hammering in her chest. A sigh rattled in her throat, her fingers combing through her short hair. The nightmare had repeated itself monthly ever since she hit puberty but she had no clue what it meant. Clearly the man had been a demon, but the standard demon had black eyes not yellow. Jocelyn whipped the covers aside and stumbled to the bathroom. Glancing at her pale reflection, Jocelyn splashed cold water on her face. The water droplets ran to the crevice of her throat where there was a tattoo of a navy blue pentagram surrounded by black flame with a red edge. It was protection against possession, something she had learned from Jim. “Jim.” She murmured aloud sadly, retreating from the bathroom. It had been 8 years today since she had stormed out from the man who had raised her, due to a tiff concerning the blossoming relationship between her and Dean Winchester. They had both been 18, slaves to raging hormones. But Jocelyn had made the mistake of wearing her heart on her sleeve and once she was on her own, she never did see Dean again.
Jocelyn traded her slacks and t-shirt, for jeans and a v-neck. Before she left her bedroom, she grabbed her palm-sized notebook and slipped it into her pocket. Heading downstairs, she paused midway down at the sight of a messy haired man in a trenchcoat. “Castiel. I wasn’t expecting you…” she greeted, hesitantly meeting his ocean-colored eyes.
“The timelord arrives today.” He responded in his deep monotone.
A frown bit at Jocelyn’s lips. “You’re sure?” she asked.
Castiel nodded as Jocelyn finished coming down the stairs. “You knew he was coming, its been fogging your visions.” He answered casting a glance at the basement door. Jocelyn swallowed, crossing her arms. “You shouldn’t be looking for the Colt.”
“I need it, that much I know..” Jocelyn argued.
“But your methods – interrogating demons, sweet-talking War…” Castiel began.
“War comes to me.” Jocelyn interrupted. “We play chess and discuss his….’games’. He thinks I know the outcomes. Will what happen in Libya turn out the way he wants? How far can he push North Korea? Things of that nature.”
There was a flurry of wings as Balthazar made his entrance. His vessel was a muscular man with dirty blonde hair and a holy obsession for v-necks. “And all the while she sits on my lap.” He spoke up in his slight French drawl. Balthazar slapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “She’s my charge brother, you needn’t worry yourself I know how to look after her…I keep an eye on her at all times.” Balthazar smiled cheekily. “Isnt that right darling?” he winked.
Castiel cleared his throat and darted his attention to Jocelyn. “The timelord arrives at nightfall.” He informed before disappearing in a blink of an eye.
“The timelord?” Balthazar repeated. “Come to take my sweet Jocelyn away at last…”
Jocelyn hid a smile as she bent her head to retrieve the notebook from her pocket. She flipped through the dog-earred pages until she found what she was looking for – a sketch of Balthazar standing opposite a stout man in an all-black suit. “Do you know who this is?” ehe asked, holding the page up.
Balthazar took the notebook in his hands. “Cant say that I do.” He answered. His teal eyes darted from the page to Jocelyn. “Am I supposed to meet him today?” he pressed.
“We both meet him…but first, we need to nab a demon from the local gas station…” Jocelyn replied.

Jocelyn paced around the devil’s trap, the demon glaring at her with each step. “Where’s the Colt?” she asked.
“The Colt?” he laughed with a sneer. “It’s a fairytale to you hunter scum.”
“Where is it?” Jocelyn repeated.
“In a forest full of unicorn and elves.” The demon snickered.
Jocelyn sighed. “You really don’t know…” she mumbled.
“It doesn’t exist.”
“If you say so….Tell me about the yellow-eyed demon.”
“I don’t know him.” he replied, breaking eye contact.
Jocelyn’s eyebrow perked as a smirk spread. “Him? Did I say the yellow-eyed demon was male?” she challenged.
The demon closed his eyes in regret, and when he opened them again, they were pure black. “I know /of/ him, that’s all I’ll say…”
“So tell me /of/ him.” Jocelyn jeered. “Quickly.”
“His name is Azazel, he’s big on revolutionary and….AAAHHHHH!” the demon cried as he planted facefirst with bloody gashes down his back.
“And,” spoke up a deep smoldering voice from beside Jocelyn. “Wouldn’t want some lowlife spilling all his dirty secrets.” He finished while the demon was tore from limb to limb by an invisible hellhound. Jocelyn backed into something solid and saw with relief, that it was Balthazar who wrapped a protective arm across her chest. Slowly turning his gaze from the massacre, the man in the all-black suit studied Jocelyn and Balthazar. “Afternoon. Name’s Crowley. I have it under good authority that you wanted to meet me Prophet.”
Jocelyn opened her mouth but Balthazar spoke: “If you want to talk you’ll get rid of your mutt. Otherwise we’ll be leaving.”
Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “That any way to talk about my pet?” he replied. Without waiting for a response, Crowley snapped his fingers and Balthazar slowly lowered his arm from Jocelyn’s chest to her waist. “Bit handsy for an angel.” Crowley noted.
“Because I love how my brothers and sisters frown. They’re quite good at it you know.” Balthazar responded.
“I see.” Crowley muttered as Jocelyn unwrapped Balthazar’s arm.
“How do you know what I am?” she asked, stepping towards him.
Crowley securitized her. “Why else would an angel protect you? Its not their style.” He answered. Jocelyn and Balthazar exchanged looks. “Now to business – you want the Colt yes? I could get it for you.” He continued.
“Sure,” Balthazar cut in, his eyes boring into Crowley. “For the price of your soul.”
“It’s a fair deal. The Colt is as priceless the soul of a prophet surely.” Crowley replied.
“Such a deal would happen over my dead body and I do mean that literally.” Balthazar said stepping towards him.
Unfazed, Crowley searched Balthazar’s face. “I could send you back upstairs easily enough.” He pointed out.
“And I can kill you with a single touch. Which of us do you think would be faster?” Balthazar challenged.
Meanwhile Jocelyn had taken out her notebook and folded the corner of the page with the drawing of Crowley and Balthazar facing off. Flipping to the next page, Jocelyn was stunned to see it was the drawing of the timelord and the purple phonebox with a whirlwind of color sprouting out the top of it. “..The Doctor does come today…” she said to herself with a frown. Glancing up, she saw Balthazar and Crowley were still locked in a stare-off. “Enough. I’ve got to go. But first, Crowley, tell me about Azazel.” She said marching towards him.
“Arent prophets supposed to be all knowing?” Crowley challenged. Jocelyn just stared at him. A soft smirk bit at his lips. “You’ll never find him. Man’s a champ at hide-and-seek.” Crowley replied.
“That all you have to say?” Balthazar asked with a shadow of a laugh.
“Yellow Eyes and I are on good terms, I’d rather not spoil it.” Crowley told him. His attention shifted to Jocelyn. “Besides, I never tell without kissing first.” He added with a smirk.
Jocelyn exhaled and made the mistake of glancing at the disembodied body on the devil’s trap. Jocelyn bowed her head in grief. “Bless the helpless prey of demons, Our Almighty Lord.” She whispered.
“Awe. You’re adorable.” Crowley mocked. Jocelyn was barely able to glare before he disappeared.

Jocelyn sat on the basement stairs, studying the scene spread out before her. Two scrolls of paper hung from the ceiling to the floor. One showed a demon bleeding from a hole in his head. The other showed a man in his late 60s with a slender gun in his head pointed at the demon. Behind them, from wall-to-wall were individual papers stapled together to show a desert background, with a warn barn as the only landmark.
Jocelyn sensed Balthazar before the stair beneath his feet creaked. She glanced over her shoulder as he perched on the stair above her. “You’re a real tree-killer you know that?” he joked.
Jocelyn smiled slightly as she looked at the scene again. “It’s all recycled paper.”
“Sure sure.” Balthazar hummed.
”It is!” she insisted in a giggle.
Balthazar mirrored her smile. “When I said ‘what do you want to do now?’, I didn’t think your answer would be sitting here obsessing…Thought it might be something more endearing like….strip poker.”
Jocelyn cast a backwards glance. “You sure you’re an angel?”
Balthazar laughed. “Positive darling.”
It took a moment for Jocelyn’s smile to fade. “I wanted to have the Colt before the Doctor came…” she pouted, resting her chin on her fists.
Balthazar reached a hand out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hate to say it but the snarky demons could be right – maybe it is just a fairytale, a magic gun that can kill anything…sounds a bit farfetched..”
Jocelyn waved his hand away then gestured at the scene. “I saw it Balthy! The vision might have been contorted but I know what I saw…It’s real. I just don’t know where it is….”
“Why are you so sure you’ll need it?” Balthazar asked. “Do you not trust the doctor? This is your fate afterall.”
Jocelyn suppressed a sigh. “It’s hard to explain Balthy….It’s just a feeling I have.” She murmured.
“Well if you’re really deadest on it, have the Doctor help you. Maybe that’s why the vision was contorted. Maybe you need the Doctor’s help.”
“….I never thought of that….”
“Always happy to help.” Balthazar said getting to his feet. “Now.” With an upward motion of his palm, Jocelyn was standing too. “Let’s go snuggle until the sun goes down shall we?” he suggested, with an easy smile.
Jocelyn gave him a look. “Batlhy.” She said with disapproval.
“Come now don’t make me beg. I might never see you again.” Balthazar responded. Face unchanging, Jocelyn crossed her arms. “….Alright now I’m begging. You’re the best charge I’ve ever had!”
“I’m the /only/ charge you’ve ever had.” She replied.
“Exactly! Now c’mon Miss Barnes, before I lose you to a date with destiny.”

Jocelyn sat cross-legged with her back against the structure, her drawing hand flying across a new sheet of notebook paper. She was sketching two men, both with wavy hair but whose faces couldn’t be more different. They had appeared in her mind the minute she had sat down. When the earth began to shake, she paused her eyes searching the sky. Jocelyn slowly flipped to the previous page of her notebook. Suddenly there was a blinding flash and Jocelyn felt the structure she was leaning against crack. Blinking rapidly to clear the light from her eyes, Jocelyn staggered to her feet. Keeping one hand on the structure, she guided herself to its front, her fingertips tracing the crack. Hearing the clack wood makes when its pushed aside, Jocelyn glanced over her shoulder. That was when she first saw the Doctor, with his powder-blue dress-shirt and infamous bowtie, loose slacks held up by suspenders barely visible beneath his tweed jacket. His brilliant face was turned toward the sky, his mouth slightly ajar. “My what was that?” he wondered aloud.
“You just split open a hellgate.” Jocelyn greeted.
The Doctor lowered his head then tilted it ever so slightly, as his blue eyes, deep and gleaming honed in on her. “…A hellgate?” he repeated. He fluffed his jacket. “This world has a gate to hell, goodie.” He said to himself, though he moved closer to Jocelyn. “And what do they call you?” he asked.
Leaning her back against the hellgate, Jocelyn held up her notebook, showing the Doctor the drawing of him which he leaned forward to examine. “My name is Jocelyn Barnes. I’m a prophet.” She announced, flipping the book closed.
“…A prophet you say?” The Doctor repeated.
“Mm-hmm.” Jocelyn hummed.
“And you knew I’d be here?”
“Known for a while.”
There was something of a frown biting at the corner of his lips as the Doctor gazed at Jocelyn. “Well Miss Barnes, I’m sorry to say, you got your details wrong.” He said at last.
“….Excuse me?” Jocelyn replied.
The Doctor held an arm out behind him. “Do you see the TARDIS?” he asked.
Jocelyn looked around. “Um…no..” she admitted.
“Precisely.” The Doctor replied. He raised his other arm up to the first one, then clapped. A purple policebox flickered into sight, the TARDIS. “I had the invisibility on.” he explained thumbing at it.
Jocelyn stared at him in disbelief. “….You tart.” She stammered, realizing he had poked fun at her drawing.
The Doctor closed the space between them. “Mm a prophet deadlocked on me but inresponsive to my humor.” He mused, snatching the notebook out of Jocelyn’s hands.
“Hey!” she protested while the Doctor wasted no time flipping through it. “Give it back.” The instant her hands moved towards it the Doctor held it out of reach, his thumb planted against the page of the wavy-haired men.
“Who are they?” The Doctor asked pointing at the drawing.
“I’m not sure, your arrival interrupted my vision.” Jocelyn said.
The Doctor looked at the drawing again, then handed the notebook back to Jocelyn. “My apologises, an unexpected arrival is usually how time travel goes. Usually…Prophet.” The Doctor responded, a certain gleam coating his deep eyes again as he moved past Jocelyn. “You mentioned a hellgate” he continued studying the structure behind them. It was a triangluar tomb made of concrete but in place of a doorknob there was a steel pentagram which had been split right down the middle. “Fascinating. Did my TARDIS do this? Of course it did, that burst of multi-colored light as I landed, makes sense now.” The Doctor turned and faced the TARDIS. “You naughty girl.” He told it before spinning to face Jocelyn again. “What was in this so called ‘hellgate’? Surely I didn’t just release hell…Just…tortured spirits? DEMONS, yes that must be it right?”
“You talk fast.” Jocelyn noted.
This seemed to take the Doctor offguard. “I don’t talk fast. You just don’t talk!” he argued.
Jocelyn held her hand up dismissively. “Not demons. You Doctor, have just released the seven deadly sins.” She informed.