A.N. Hello! So, basically, the muse hit me with this idea for a supernatural story after watching El Dorado, and I couldn't help but find some parallels with Supernatural. For fans of the movie, I won't follow the plot exactly, just bits and pieces. I watched this movie in Spanish and I kind of don't like the idea of Cortes speaking in English, so I hope you don't mind. I'll put translations at the end :3

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural OR the movie Road to El Dorado.

Ah, good ol' Spain.

Dean winked at a beautiful señorita as he strummed his—or was it his?— guitar while his giant of a brother played dice with a couple of sailors. As he gracefully moved around their (mostly female) audience, Dean spotted a wanted poster hidden behind a slightly heavy woman. Giving her a charming smile, he kept her eyes on his as he walked behind her and, before anyone could notice, ripped the paper from the wall. It wouldn't be good if someone in the crowd realized that they were wanted fugitives.

Maybe they should skip town, he mused as his brother won yet another round with their loaded dice, smirking at the growing frustration of the sailor, who ignored his friends' advice to give up before he ended up truly broke. Of course, the innocent puppy eyed look in Sam's face wasn't doing much to calm the man's anger.

They'd have to try to find a ride inland. There were too many of the King's soldiers prowling around in Seville, what with all the excitement of the new voyage to the New World. In fact, they should have probably left the minute they'd found out that the Spanish navy would be joined by their good old friend Victor Hendrickson. God knew what the man would do if he knew they were playing their little games right under his nose.

Yep! Definitely time to move. He'd heard some rumors about a ghost sighting in Malaga. Maybe he and Sam could go check it out. The only reason they hadn't left in the first place was that the hunt had gone well and they'd decided to take a few days to rest. Dean's side was still tender from fighting that freaking black dog. They should probably try to get their hands on one of the soldiers' pistols before they left. Huh. Good idea.

Just as he was gonna motion for Sam to wrap it up, the big guy he'd been playing with lost his senses and tried to attack his brother. Sam merely sidestepped him, pretending not to have noticed as he stuffed all the money in his bag. Well, damn. They needed to get out of there without making a ruckus or they'd bring too much attention on themselves.

"¡Ladrón! ¡Tramposo!" The guy cursed, and from the way he swayed a bit on his feet, he wasn't completely sober. Perfect. "¡Devuélveme mi dinero!"

Without wasting much time to take in the amusing sight, Dean simply stepped behind the sailor and acted as though there was a coin on the floor and exclaimed with flawless Spanish, "Mira, un maravedí. ¡Es mi día de suerte!" He made a show of leaning down, positioning his guitar so that it would smack right into the big drunk's tender parts. The impact made the men around wince in sympathy and the women cover their mouths to hide their amusement as the guy made a less than manly squeal before falling on his ass. Faking surprise, Dean turned around and apologized profusely while Sam made himself scarce. Backing away from the groaning man and his alarmed friends, Dean took the opportunity to turn around and run.

Or he would have, if he hadn't run face first into the armor of a very disgruntled looking guard.

Damn. So much for leaving unnoticed.

The guard only seemed annoyed until he looked at Dean in the face and recognized him. His eyes widened almost comically then, and Dean grinned cheekily as the man made to pull his sword from its scabbard. A loud clang of metal as something hit his helmet stopped the action just long enough for Dean to walk around the guard and salute before running. Let it never be said that his brother didn't have good timing, he grinned as he spotted Sam with a rock in his hand, ready to use it again if the guard got too close.

"Nice timing, Sammy!" He cheered, running past his little brother knowing he would follow.

"If you stopped with your theatrics I wouldn't have to wait on you, jerk!" Sam called after him.

"Wouldn't have to if you'd stop flirting with the sailors, bitch!" he yelled back with a shit-eating grin as they dodged a group of women with baskets of clean sheets, the heavy footsteps of guards following not too far behind.

Without stopping, Dean tossed the guitar in the air and heard Sam grab it without trouble. If the sound of broken strings and a surprised grunt was anything to go by, his little brother had correctly guessed what he'd given him the guitar for.

Dean made a sharp right, laughing as his brother cursed and skidded before he managed to make it into the narrow alley. He could hear the guards cursing after them, the whistling sound of arrows from their fancy crossbows flying close over their heads or hitting the walls near them with every sharp turn they took.

"Dean, they're getting close!" Sam warned, and Dean chanced a look back to ascertain that, indeed, the guards were getting way too close for his liking.

Frowning in thought, he turned his eyes forward and spotted one of the intricate (and solid) decorative hangings that were being hung on the streets to greet Cortes and Hendrickson when they marched to the float of ships. A few of the long fabric hangings were still close enough to the ground to pull off Dean's favorite escape method.

"Sam!" He could practically feel the dread coming from his brother, and it only made his grin widen as he started running as fast as he could. "Take a swing!"

"Damn it, Dean, not again!" But Dean had already gained as much momentum as possible before flinging himself at the expensive violet hanging and swinging up as high as he could. It was only a matter of taking it at the right angle and make it to the roof before it was too late and gravity started pulling you down again. And maybe they weren't kids anymore, but where was the fun in making the town look pretty if you weren't going to play with the decorations?

He laughed triumphantly as he reached the rooftop; he only waited a second to make sure Sam had made it before he started running again in the opposite direction; straight towards the port. Maybe they could hide among the crowd waiting for Cortes and hopefully lose their pursuers.

Listening for the loud angry voices of the guards as they tried to climb to the rooftops with their heavy armors, Sam and Dean ran side by side towards the docks. Eventually though, they made it to the last building, and unfortunately, the guards had actually made it to the roof as well. At least they were far enough behind that they had a chance of getting lost in the crowd if they made it down fast enough.

Looking down, Dean saw the tent of a food vender and grinned. Lady Luck was truly on their side today. Beside him, Sam chuckled, and Dean met his eyes and winked. Without a second thought, they jumped down. The tent was barely tense enough to hold both their weights, but they really just needed something to break their fall. Throwing an apology at the angry vendor that now struggled to get the tent off him, they quickly disappeared among the crowd.

Sam looked around to make sure they weren't being followed, and Dean immediately tossed a golden maravedí at a young boy selling hats before putting one on his head and throwing another at Sam. Once that was done, they both looked up to see the guards had finally made it to the edge and were looking around with obvious frustration.

Finally feeling safe enough to stop and take a breath, the brothers smiled at each other, adrenaline still running through their veins as they let themselves relax and enjoy the festivities.

Their luck had to run out at some point, however, and just when they deemed it had been long enough to start moving away from the crowd, Dean practically ran into Hendrickson's black horse. If it weren't for Sam, who briskly pulled them back into an almost empty (but huge, seriously, who were they trying to impress) crate of apples, Hendrickson would have turned his head to see Dean staring at him with wide green eyes.

They curled in on themselves as tight as they could, hoping that the man couldn't seem them from his horse, but as the English general passed them and they let a breath of relief, a distracted sailor—who was too busy flirting with one of the prostitutes that frequented the docks—closed the crate and hammered it shut. And Sam had to press a hand on Dean's mouth to make sure he didn't alert him. They wouldn't be able to run if they got caught in a fucking crate of apples.

As the sailor walked away towards the giggling woman, Dean turned and glared at his brother, "Nice one, Sam!" he hissed, "I know you have an obsession with fruit, but did you have to drag me down with you?"

"Says the guy who's obsessed with apples."

"I'm claustrophobic! If I die of a heart attack, it will be your fault."

"Shut up! If I hadn't gotten us in here, Hendrickson would have seen you gawking at him and we would have been in even more trouble." And there was Sammy's bitchface.

"And what do you think will happen when they open the crate and find us, genius?" He pushed an apple out of the way, "or did you forget that all of this is for that rich, fat-ass Cortes?"

Sam bit his lip, "Maybe we'll have time to escape before they load it." He mused hopefully.

As if on cue, the crate shook violently and the sickening feeling of being up in the air made Dean's stomach drop. "How about you keep your mouth shut." He growled.

"Look, it's not the end of the world," he tried to reassure him, but it was hard to do that when Sam himself was panicking inside, "There's still some time before they leave port, right? We'll just wait until they're busy loading something else and kick the crate open."

Dean was seriously starting to think that they'd used every last drop of good luck they had today, because almost as soon as the crate was put down, the sound of something heavy being set on top of them made him wince, and the light that had seeped through the cracks at the top disappeared.

"You were saying?" He turned to his brother, eyes narrowed.

"…Alright, we're doomed."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Dean, stop eating the apples."

"I'm hungry."

"If they see you're eating the cargo they'll throw us overboard."

"Damn, I thought you were gonna say 'kill us', well in that case let me just apologize. Oh wait, we're not supposed to be here anyway, I'm eating the fucking apples!" He sneered, munching loudly on a new apple in front of Sam's face, making his brother scrunch his nose and try to back away.

They stayed in a tense silence for a while before Sam sighed and shifted, trying to accommodate his giant body in the cramped crate.

"You think they'll really kill us?"

"I don't know," Dean mumbled, tossing the finished apple to his feet, "If not that then sell us into slavery, but considering Hendrickson's here, I'd say our chances are pretty slim."

"Yeah…" Sam let his head fall back, staring at the dark top of the crate, "Look, Dean—"

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean interrupted with his own sigh, "We were bound to run out of luck at some point."

Sam nodded. After a moment, he opened his mouth again, but tensed at the sound of approaching steps. Dean frowned and readied himself to fight in case they had the chance to defend themselves. The crate on top of theirs was lifted with the heavy groan of wood and the grunts of two sailors carrying its weight.

Sharing a look of dread, both brothers waited for the lid of their crate to be opened, but were pleasantly surprised and reluctantly relieved when the box was only lifted off the ground and moved towards the galley. Of course, they weren't going to open a sealed box of supplies until it was time to use it, and considering the little light that came through the cracks, it was probably too late to start opening anything. Dean only hoped there were more crates of apples in case anyone felt like having a midnight snack during the night watch.

As they were set down again, Dean heard one of the sailors complain that he was hungry. The other told him to just grab an apple and wait until dinner and left so as to not be considered an accomplice if the superiors found out.

Shit!

Well, at least this was better than being found out on deck. With a few grunts, the idiotic sailor got the crate opened. His eyes searched for a fruit in the low lighting only to come nose to nose with two grown men stuffed in the box.

With a friendly grin, Dean grabbed an apple and offered it to him, "Apple?"

The poor idiot was too in shock to react properly, and before he could raise the alarm, Sam had kicked him in the head and knocked him out. Those long legs had to be of some use.

Waiting for a moment to see if anyone had heard, they let out a breath of relief when no one came to their crewmate's aid. With a rude shove at Sam's face, Dean pushed himself up and out of the crate, stretching his back and groaning as his bones cracked into place.

Sam made sure to give him a bitchface before doing the same. Once he brought feeling back to all his limbs, Dean looked down at the unconscious sailor and nudged him with his foot.

"How long do you think until someone finds us?" he asked Sam as he grabbed some rope from an open crate and started tying the idiot up.

"As soon as we walk out the door?" he guessed, keeping an ear out for anyone coming close.

"I say the deck." Dean challenged, tightening the knot around the sailor's wrists before standing and nodding at Sam to follow.

They silently sneaked out of the galley, looking around for sailors as they made their way up a set of stairs and finally reached the deck. Like Dean had guessed, they opened the door to the deck only to find a good dozen of sailors turn to look at them, their expressions going from relaxed to angry in seconds.

"I win." Dean muttered, hiding a grin when a gold coin was tossed at him from behind.

"Um…" Sam eloquently started as the sailors grabbed for their weapons and started closing in on them, "Hello," Dean practically rolled his eyes, but as he glanced behind them, he saw that more men had appeared from the door they'd just come from. "We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere," Sam laughed sheepishly.

"Is this your boat?" Dean asked, like an interested passerby.

"Ship," Sam hissed under his breath, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Ship! Beautiful ship," He grinned, tapping the solid wooden deck with his boots, "Very sturdy."

"Generals," Victor looked up from the maps he and Cortes had been planning over, raising an eyebrow at his lieutenant. The man knew better than to interrupt a meeting, so it had to be something urgent. "It seems we have some stowaways."

Cortes' eyes narrowed, and he replied in a thick accent, "Stowaways?" The anger of his voice made his lieutenant tense, "Who?" he demanded.

The man turned his eyes from both generals and responded, "The Winchesters."

Hendrickson's eyes widened. Not possible. He'd been looking to bring those two miscreants to justice ever since their actions had been found out in London. The amount of crimes those boys had committed was horrifying in itself, and if Victor weren't sure that they had been basically conditioned by their psychotic father, he would have thought them to be demons. In truth, the real monster was Lord John Winchester, who had gone mad after the tragic death of his wife. But the man had been declared dead tow years ago, and while they might not be as guilty as their father, Sam and Dean Winchester were still criminals.

"Los Winchesters?" Cortes bellowed, he turned fierce dark eyes to look at Hendrickson, and the dark man wished his King hadn't chosen him for this 'supposedly' friendly voyage with the Spaniards, "I thought you say the were killers," he accused, "Why would they be on my ship?"

"Trust me, my friend, that's what I intend to find out," he assured the angry man as two young men were dragged into the room, their hands and necks trapped by wooden stocks. Victor felt a victorious smirk tug at his lips as they were pushed to the knees.

"Victor!" Dean greeted with a wide smile as soon as he saw him, bold and mocking as always, "Longtime no see, pal! How's life treating you? Decided to take some vacation in good ol' Spain, huh? The wenches are a better down here, right? You sly dog," The young man winked, and Hendrickson fought to keep his face carefully blank except for the calm smile on his face.

"You think you're funny."

"I think I'm adorable." The boy retorted immediately, and Victor tried not to roll his eyes, unlike the younger of the two, who was looking at his brother with an annoyed look.

"Enough!" Cortes interrupted, his chest swelling with rage at the audacity of the two boys that dared make jokes while in his presence, "My crew was as carefully chosen as the disciples of Christ," he growled, his accent more obvious in his anger, "I will not tolerate stowaways!"

"Dude, you are so much more intimidating in Spanish," Dean blurted, earning himself a kick to the stomach.

"Silencio." Cortes snarled, and truly the man was fiercer in his mother tongue, "Seréis azotados," He declared, his voice toning down to a colder anger as he glared down at the prisoners, "Y Dios me diante cuando hagamos escala en Cuba para repostar recibiréis más azotes," Victor saw Sam wince. At least the youngest had common sense, the English general didn't envy the number of times they'd be flogged by the time they made it to Cuba. "En las plantaciones the azúcar trabajaréis como esclavos el resto de vuestra vida."

And there was what he feared. Hendrickson frowned. He wanted to bring Sam and Dean back to London to be put in trial. He'd have to convince the man not to leave them working the sugar plantations like he'd ordered. The Winchesters were meant to be hanged, not enslaved. That wouldn't serve justice for what they'd done.

Before he could get a word in, however, Cortes nodded at his soldiers in dismissal, "To the brigg." The intimidating figure turned back to the maps, ignoring the young prisoners.

"Alright!" Dean cheered, and Viktor wondered if he'd understood anything Cortes had said, "Cuba!" Victor rolled his eyes and turned away as the boys were dragged out of the room.

Dean watched with bored eyes as his brother continuously banged his head against the wall, sporadically going into quick rambling thoughts of how to escape before going back to bumping his forehead. Like the kid's forehead wasn't big enough as it was.

His only regret at the moment was that he couldn't lean against the wall without hurting the wounds on his back. Those bastards had flogged them until they'd left the skin of their backs in ribbons.

"Hey, Sam," he called, trying to find some amusement, "Any ideas?"

Sam glared at him halfheartedly before suddenly straightening—and Dean didn't miss his wince as the action pulled on the wounds on his back; he was going to kill those sons of bitches for touching his brother—, "Wait! I've got something!"

Dean sighed and eyed his nails, "Yeah, what's that?" He turned skeptical eyes back to his brother, who only stared blankly at him before going back to banging his head against the wall.

He was about to suggest his brother stop that before he gave himself a concussion when something fell right on him, "Ow!" He rubbed his head and glared up at the only opening of the brig before looking down to see what it was. His face brightened instantly at the sight of the offending object…or fruit. "An apple!"

Sam groaned and turned to look at him. "You are ridiculous."

Dean huffed, "See if I'll share it with you now, bitch."

"Jerk."

He was about to take a bite of the apple, when he heard a whinney from outside the brig.

Lightbulb.

"Hey, Sir Weeps-a-lot," he called, earning himself a bitchface, "Gimme a boost," he said as he pushed himself to his feet.

Sam rolled his eyes but complied, and soon Dean was high enough that he could pass his arms through the bars. "Hey! Impala!" He whispered, "Impala, c'mere girl," he heard a snort from close by and grinned, "You want a nice apple? Come and get it," He showcased the fruit, hoping to bring the black mare towards him.

The clopping of the horse's hoofs got closer, and Dean moved the apple away, "But," he peeked through the bars and saw Impala pull her neck back, annoyed, "First you've gotta do a little something for me," Seeing that he still had the animal's attention, he continued, "Find a crowbar."

He was losing her. Dean swayed the apple in front of her, reminding her of the price, "A long piece of iron with a wooky thing at the end, 'kay?"

"Dean. You're talking to a horse." Sam deadpanned from bellow.

"Shut it, Samantha," he hissed before softening his voice once again. He grinned as he saw the black mare walk away, "That's right, beautiful. Find a crowbar."

"Yeah, find a crowbar," Sam bitched, "It doesn't know what a crowbar is, Dean it's just a stupid h—"

The clang of something hitting the ground brought their eyes to a small metal object, and they both stared blankly at the ring with the keys to the brig with disbelieving eyes.

"W-well," Sam muttered, "S'not a crowbar."

Dean merely shrugged.

Victor Hendrickson was not morning person. So, needless to say when his lieutenant stormed into his cabin he almost threw the dagger under his pillow at him.

It was only after he'd made sure that his reflexes were under control that what his second was saying made it through the fog in his mind, "What did you say?" He snarled.

"The Winchesters are gone, sir." The man stuttered, obviously not happy to be the one to deliver the message, "There's no sign of them on this ship, and the brig is intact and still locked."

"Damn it!" He cursed, slamming his fist against the wall and making his lieutenant wince. They'd pulled off one of their disappearing acts again. He rubbed his face and looked up, glaring as he saw that the man was still there. But it seemed like the boy had something else he wanted to say, and from the look on his face it wasn't going to make him happy either. "Spit it out, Lieutenant." He ordered.

"They uh…" he cleared his throat, "They seem to have taken Impala with them, sir." He said meekly.

Victor felt his anger turn into utter fury at the audacity of those brats.

"…They what?"

¡Ladrón! ¡Tramposo! Thief, Cheat!

¡Devuélveme mi dinero! Give me back my money!

Mira, un maravedí. ¡Es mi día de suerte! Look, a maravedí (Iberian golden coin). It's my lucky day!

Cortes' lines are the same as the movie but in Spanish, and I tried to make Hendrickson explain more or less what he meant, but if you would rather I put them here, let me know!