Lexi looked out the window of the tiny hotel room she was staying in. From there she could see the Tower Bridge, an iconic feature of the city she currently found herself in. She still wasn't sure why she was here or just what she could accomplish alone. The few people she had questioned about Kendricks didn't have much to say on the subject, other than it was well guarded.
It had been over six months since the British Men of Letters compound had been raided. The pain and loss from then was a daily struggle for her. Donna still reached out to her daily, either by text or a call, some might find it an annoyance, but it was a comfort to Lexi. Sherriff Hanscum was the only person who knew she was no longer in the US, even though Donna had begged the girl not to leave.
Sam still checked in with her once a week, however Dean barely reached out anymore, part of that was her fault; she knew he was hurting, but she was too. There was so much noise in her head, she felt lost and confused and often she found herself crying at the slightest thing. Lexi knew she needed to patch herself up before she could help him. That might be part of the reason behind her trip, she needed to get away and she couldn't do that being within driving distance of the bunker.
The youngest brother had tried several times over the past few months to get Lexi to come by for a visit, or to accompany them on a hunt. Lexi always declined, a new excuse each time. Lexi was broken and she couldn't let them see her like that anymore. She couldn't trust her feelings or herself if she stepped foot in that bunker again. Facing that truth, that fear she had, was paralyzing, and until she could get past all those different thoughts in her mind, it was best she stay away.
The dark-haired hunter decided to spend the evening at a pub on the outskirts of town she had come across the day before. It was a quiet place with a friendly old bartender, not much traffic customer wise. Maybe she needed a distraction, be someone else for an hour or so. Does that make me a horrible person she thought to herself.
She took up residence at the end of the bar and was on her second drink when caught sight of a man as he walked into the pub and he glanced her way. He moved cautiously towards the opposite end of the bar from the dark-haired girl and she noticed another man come through the door a few seconds behind him. His build was slimmer than the first man's and he had dark hair with dark eyes and he gave her a half-grin when his gaze met hers. She moved her glass to her lips with a small smile to him before she looked back down the bar toward the man with dirty blonde hair. He was more athletically built and the scruff on his face only added to his rugged good looks. Pull it together, she told herself as she snapped out of the reverie her mind had taken her too.
"Evening Greyson," the bartender spoke to the man first, as he poured him a glass of amber liquid.
"Bart," he greeted the man with a nod of his head, in an accent Lexi had found herself becoming familiar with on this trip.
She had noted that the couple seated at the table had left the pub after the dark-haired gentleman had approached them, which left only the bartender, the two men who had just walked in, and herself. She wasn't new to the game, that's why she had chosen a barstool within four feet of a pool table, which had two sticks already lying on the green felt along with a few billiards.
"A little bird told me," the man began to swish his drink around in the glass, "that someone's been asking around about Kendricks."
He's one of the one, Lexi thought to herself as she moved her glass back to her lips nonchalantly and listened to the man speak.
"Heard this person might be an American hunter," he continued.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the other dark-haired man had moved along the back wall and was about ten feet on the other side of the pool table from her. She wasn't going quietly, and she mentally prepared herself for fight.
"I can't really help you there Greyson," Bart replied, "only stranger I've seen all day is that fetching young lady over there."
Greyson followed the nod of the bartender's head to the end of the bar, there were only seven bar stools separating them. Lexi didn't look away when his eyes locked onto hers.
"Quite fetching," he said to Bart, without looking away, lowering his voice, "Do you really think she could be a hunter?"
Bart shrugged his shoulders as he wiped out a glass, "Guess you should ask her."
As soon as he took a step in her direction, Lexi flew off the stool and had grabbed a billiard in her right hand, she threw it across the pub with all her strength at the dark-haired man who was approaching her from the side. It hit him square in shoulder and he double over from the pain, a flurry of angry phrases spewing out of his mouth in a Scottish accent. The dark-haired girl grabbed one of the pool sticks and held it like a baseball bat as the other man moved towards her.
"Come on darlin'," he said smoothly, "I'm not here to fight ya, I just want to talk is all."
"I'm sure you do," Lexi responded, then swung the bat low enough to hit him on his left side, below the ribcage. He flinched slightly from the pain, but immediately caught the next swing with his right hand and jerked the stick towards him. The impact of him catching the stick jarred Lexi's arms and when he jerked the cue towards himself, Lexi stumbled forward before she let go of the it. Greyson twirled the stick in the air above her head to grab the other end with his left hand and he moved forward, causing her to step back against the pool table and he brought the stick down over her head and pulled it tight against her back pinning her between the stick and himself. He was a head taller than the girl and she was forced to look up at him.
"Well, aren't you a little hellcat?" he questioned with a grin, then looked over to his friend, "You alright Charlie boy?"
"Been better," he replied as he rubbed his shoulder.
Greyson looked down at the girl and she glared angrily up at him, "What? Is it against the law to ask about your little Hogwarts school for assassins?"
"No," he began, "But they don't like it very much, that's why I wanted to find you first."
"You're not one of them?" she questioned in confusion.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot," he began as he took a step back from the girl, he reached his hand up between the two of them and she slowly laid her hand against his, "I'm Greyson Moore."
He brought her hand up and the kiss he placed on the skin above her knuckles caused a slight shiver to run its course down her spine. Greyson smiled and with a wink continued, "British hunter."
"Lexi Wilson," she replied, confusion rampant in her mind, there are British hunters? "American hunter."
She slowly pulled her hand from his grasp and continued, "So, you're not here to kill me?"
"Oh sweetheart," Charlie had made his way closer to the two of them, "I can think of a few things he'd like to do with you, murder isn't one of them."
Embarrassment crossed her features for a couple reasons, one being she had chunked a billiard at this poor guy in front of her, "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine love," he laughed a little and offered his hand to her, "Charlie Flanagan."
She shook his hand with a warm smile, "My best friend's name was Charlie?"
"Then that should automatically make us friends," he replied with a smirk.
"We need to be going," Greyson interrupted them.
"Don't be jealous that she already likes me more than you," the dark-haired man stated.
Greyson turned his attention back to the girl in front of him, "You need to come with us, if we can find you, the men of letters won't be far behind us."