Chapter 1

Sunday, 12th September 2010

Scottish Highlands: John o'Groats to Inverness

Playlist for the Road: Immigrant Song, by Led Zeppelin

BOBBY (over the phone): You boys have a safe flight. And try some of the local grub. I hear it's... exotic.

DEAN: Oh, definitely. I hear they have an Olive Garden.

Supernatural: 6x04 – Weekend at Bobby's

Oddly enough, the road trip is Sam's idea. It does not occur to Dean, does not even cross his mind that extended travel without Baby is possible, let alone desirable. What would be the point without the smell of leather and burritos and oil, without the comforting embrace of a large black car as it eats up the miles between where he has been and where he is going? A road trip means wide open roads and the landscape of whichever State he's in today easing its way past the windows to an accompanying soundtrack of Back in the Saddle and Thunderstruck, maybe even Highway Star so long as there is no one else to hear.

Sam, child of the road and the Impala's backseat though he is, has never voluntarily been on a road trip in his life. Dean once spent four days just driving through Texas and had more fun in that time than he could easily remember having either side of watching Cas strike out with a prostitute. He had sampled the local wildlife of Houston and eaten so much barbeque in Austin that he had thrown it all back up again in an alleyway, observed only by two elderly homeless men who had held each other's hands and watched him with professional curiosity. Dean had visited strangely named roadside attractions and always made sure to try the local beer. He had even once considered the various pros and cons of learning how to ride a horse at a cattle ranch that he was passing. Sam had spent the same four days holed up in a shitty motel room outside of Dallas with only a stack of books and his laptop for company. When Dean had returned to collect him, there had been no evidence of a takeout binge nor of a private extravaganza of adult viewing material. It had depressed Dean mightily on his brother's behalf.

So what is Sam doing now, waxing lyrical about libraries and history, about ancient sites and small town pubs in villages that were old before the Mayflower set sail from Southampton on its voyage to the New World? Sam Winchester does not like road trips, so why is he suggesting they take one through England of all places?

"Not England, Dean. Britain."

"Whatever, Sam. Who cares?"

"It makes a difference. We're at the north tip of Scotland here. You might not want to let the locals know you think they're English, not unless you managed to sneak a lot more guns onto that plane than I did."

"Like I said, Sammy, whatever. If you fancy a road trip, you know I'm game, but we can do that back home. See the Grand Canyon. Ping spit-wads at Mount Rushmore and laugh at outraged tourists..."

"Yeah, and that would sound great if I was still thirteen."

"You were never that fun at thirteen."

"Dean, we're in Europe. The UK! Are you really going to pass that up? This is the first time either of us has left the United States!"

"That's not true. Remember when Dad took us to Mexico?"

"Six hours stuck on the wrong side of Border Crossing when I was six does not count as foreign travel."

"Ah. I see the bitchy jetlag is kicking in."

"Don't be a jerk, Dean. Come on, it will be great! It's not as if we're going to get another chance to come back this way, not with the way you are about planes. Let's just take a week. Even Bobby told us that we should. I can do some exploring and I'm sure this country has enough processed food to keep you happy."

Dean stands upon his objections loudly for several more minutes, during which the phrase, "Not without my car," is repeated more than once. It only occurs to Dean to shift his stance when three separate ideas spring out of nowhere to dislodge his comfortable footing upon Impalac devotion.

The first realisation is that large black cars do not generally cross oceans without the aid of either cargo ships or divine, trench coated intervention. Until recently, Dean would have been confident in their ability to call on the latter, but now...? He crushes that line of thought as he has been forcing himself to do for the past month. There is nothing he can do for Cas unless the angel lets him and the viscous panic in his chest does no one any good. No, ship is the only viable way of transporting his car, so unless they are willing to commit a lot more time to this trip than Sam is proposing, Baby cannot join them on this venture.

The second realisation is that Sam is genuinely excited by the prospect of taking a holiday - with him. The thought tightens something in Dean's throat. It sits pleasantly in his belly in a way that he will never admit to, regardless of alcohol consumption. An actual holiday with Sam after a year of believing that his brother was burning, after a year of Dean trying to turn himself into something domesticated and suburban that he now knows he cannot be. Shock. Soullessness. Worrying about what the hell is wrong with Sam and Cas. It has been months since Dean had a moment to catch his breath. Britain may not have made his personal list of Places to See Before the Apocalypse Kills Us All, but surely there are worse places in which Sam could have taken an interest. At least here he speaks the language.

The third (and by far the most compelling) reason for abandoning his vehicular morality is this: Dean would rather face driving on the left side of the road from now until the end of time than be forced to get back on an airplane tonight. Two long flights in less than forty-eight hours? Temporary disloyalty to his car is definitely preferable.

And it is this line of supreme and no doubt faultless logic that finds Dean Winchester maxing out three separate credit cards on cash withdrawals in Inverness, while Sam leans against their rental car and changes their flights from Edinburgh to London Heathrow in two weeks' time.

Dean suspects that it is going to be a long two weeks if Sam has any say in the matter.