Chapter I

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy… Can't you tell? What tha' fuck, Sammy?! My leg is shredded and you feel like asking stupid questions? I thought you were the smarter Winchester. Guess I was… ahhhh… fuckin' wrong!"

Dean was trying to take out the barb wire out of his left leg, which was quite a hard job taking into consideration the fact that they were hunted down by God-knows-what in the pitch dark forest.

"Hurry!" mouthed Sam, frustrated and scared. "I'm sorry for rushing you, but if we stay any longer we're gonna be dead meat!" trying to help his older brother, Sam only received a death stare promising a really good punch in the face. "Let me help you!"

"Dammit, Sam! Shut up and run if you want! Leave alone!" And with that, he took off his leather jacket, looked at it with regret before using it as a shield for his hands when he took out the barb wire from his flesh. Blood was gushing, the jeans were torn and the leather jacket suffered minor scratches. Thank God the jacket was almost intact! Using Sam's handed shirt, Dean wrapped the wound and got up to his feet with the help from his brother, help which he took reluctantly.

Running, they suddenly came to a halt when they heard voices and saw dim lights from flashlights not far away from where they stood.

"Let's go to England! It would be fun! A little experience with European ghosts and other fucking night creatures! Maybe we'll find out about Crowley even though he's Irish or Scottish, or fuck knows what! And flying by plane will be fun this time! I promise! You know what, Sammy? Fuck you!" Dean's glare threw daggers at his brother's tall frame. Sam was a wreck now. Running for 2 hours wouldn't be much for him, but when you have jet lag, sleep and lack of food really have a say in whatever action you do. Struggling to keep his balance, Dean leaned on a tree and focused on the voices which came closer and closer, gripping his gun better, while Sam was trying to hear if the barking ceased or it's getting closer as well.

Not before long, screams and shoutings were heard from that part of the forest from which the light came. Dean could feel the panic, the fear and the anguish in the air and saw a silhouette passing right beside him and his brother but that figure didn't seem to notice them.

"Dean! It was just a man, right? Not a ghost? It was frighten. God, I can't even tell! I too tired and fed up with this forest!" Sam stated, losing his temper.

"Or a fucking hipster, scared shitless, running from a stupid prank… Geez, Sammy! You're gettin' on my nervs and this blood loss isn't helping me much. Let's take our chances and move our asses before anyone sees us."

Before taking any steps in the dark area, one flashlight was pointed in their direction. Sam stumbled on a branch, Dean swore, collapsing under the weight of his own body because of his injured leg, with Sam trying uselessly to make him gain stability.

Bit by bit, the Winchesters made up the image before them. Two men, one tall, with wavy hair, dressed with a long trench coat and the other, a bit smaller, with a visible limping leg, but with a towering image whatsoever. They weren't having any guns on them, just the flashlights – which were, in that moment, really painful weapons.

"Sherlock! I think we've found our frightening mutant hound." The smaller man stated with an optimistic grin.

"Hmmmm, no. I'm afraid you're wrong. Again. For Heavens sake, John! Haven't you learnt anything from the time spent with me? Really, old sport! You are becoming more like Lestrade. Who, by the way, is still behind us due to his lack of physical activity. Plus points for you, by the way, because you managed to keep up despite of you incapacitated limb."

"Dammit, Sam. It's like the English are doing this on purpose. Making us look stupid. Bloody hell!" Dean said while watching the two British men making observations.

"Sorry! But can you help us? I feel that we are looking for the same thing, but, unfortunately, we are kinda, well… hurt and starving." Sam intervened in the discussion, using his secret weapon – hurt puppy dog eyes.

"Should we trust them?" the man called John asked.

"Yes." Came the answer from his mysterious companion.