_{It wasn’t that Sam didn’t see the appeal of foreign countries, he just… was content where he was. America had its problems, sure, but he was comfortable in the cheap hotels and run-down burger joints. And he thought that Dean would feel the same.  After all, Dean was the epitome of American. The fast food, the Impala, the busty chicks…} 

                                     _{And yet here they were, in London, England.}

           _{It had come out of nowhere - one minute they were working a job in Massachusetts, and the next Dean was waving some newspaper clippings from across the pond.  Plus, according to Dean, the babes in London were to die for.  And who was Sam to deny his brother, especially when he only had a few months left?}

  _{They’d dropped everything, scrounged up some cash, and swiped a couple of plane tickets, only to lose the trail completely.  There was something to be said of the persistence of the Winchesters, though, because two weeks and countless beers later, the were hot on its tail.}

                 _{But they weren’t the only ones.}

       _{A strange man with wild, unruly hair, and another shorter one who walked with his muscles tense were present at nearly every crime scene.  They weren’t part of the police, that was for sure, but then what were they? Private detectives? Whatever they were, they were in the way, and they were about to get into some serious shit if they didn’t watch their backs.}

                    _{In fact, some of that serious shit was happening now.}

                                                    ❝Get down!❞

           _{Sam raised his rifle, firing off a shot of rock salt at the apparition.  Grabbing the odd man by his coat collar, Sam hefted him to his feet and around the corner.}

     ❝Okay, I don’t know who you are, but you seriously need to get out of here. Like, now.❞