The British sun pounded hard on Dean's face as he gazed over the Cornwall coast. Seagulls swooped calling over the gentle crashing of the clear waves.

Sam approached Dean with two steaming paper cups.

'What you eating? Sam scorned, handing him a drink.

Dean's smug smile curled. 'Cornish pasty.' His brow raised with a slight bob of his head.

'How can you be fucking hungry? We just got here and whenever Cas transports me out of thin air, I feel sick to my core.'

'I dunno.' Dean shrugged taking another mouthful. 'It's good though, I mean, what's not to like? It's meat in a pie.' He rolled his eyes back savouring the goodness.

Sam shook his head.

'What?' Dean asked with his mouth full.

'Nothing.'

'Well, when in Rome…' Dean said then took a sip from his drink. He immediately spat it out. 'What's the hell is this?

Sam smirked. 'English tea… like you said, when in Rome.'

Dean scowled wiping his mouth. 'So, you got any leads?'

'Yeah, a guy called Frank Cole. He'll be in that pub later tonight.' Sam pointed at an old timber-framed building on the edge of the beach. A giant anchor sat outside it and big blue letters on the wall spelled out "The Mermaid."

'Pub. I like the sound of that.' Dean perked up.

'We're not on holiday, we're on a job.'

'Calm down will ya, but we might as well enjoy the pleasantries this job has to offer while we're here.'

As Dean bit into his pasty, a shapely woman jogged towards him. Her dark hair pulled back into a loose bun, her firm breasts bounced in rhythm to her jaunt in a black cleavage ripped AC/DC shirt. Dean paused admiring her. She was unaware of his attention happily jogging past him listening loudly to Metallica on her headphones. Her usual morning run invigorated her, flushing out the previous night's booze. Dean gazed on turning his head as she passed him, paying attention to her curvaceous behind. He nudged Sam's chest with the back of his hand.

'Dean!' Sam snapped.

Dean looked back at Sam, swallowing the rest his food. 'We can have a little fun, can't we?'

Deans attention waded back to the girl who had now stopped and begun stretching.

'Bendy.' Dean exaggerated his one word.

'We haven't got time for this, Dean.'

Dean pretended not to hear Sam while he arched his neck to the side watching her bend over in tight frayed cut jean shorts, a single red bandana rag hanging from one back pocket. She curved her back up stretching her arms above her head, as she done so her shirt raised showing her firm stomach and her breasts naturally pushed up. Dean growled a little.

'Dean-'

'Shh, look. What's she gonna do with that rag?'

'What?' Sam said.

Dean bit the salted air on his lip as the woman pulled out the bandana patting away her own salted sweat, firstly from her brow then her heaving bosoms.

'Hmmm,' Dean groaned, 'what I wouldn't give to be that red-rag right now.

'Dean, for God's sake, will you give it a rest!'

'Arghh! Fine.' Dean pulled away from his gaze. 'But, you owe me.'

'Where's Castiel?' Sam asked.

'I sent him to get me an ice-cream.'

'You did what?'

'I'm joking, Jesus Sam, you need to relax a little. He had something else to attend to.'

'But we need his help here, we need help to find the sword.'

'Now, you see, I don't quite get this. Excalibur is a myth, a legend. King Arthur wasn't real.'

'You're talking to me about what is real and not real. We're the Winchesters, none of that applies to us.'

Dean's attention is taken again as the dark raven haired girl sparks her just as dark eyes to him as she walks by.

'Did you see that?' Dean asked Sam. 'I'm in, I'm totally in.'

'Dean, no!' Sam pulls at Dean's arm.

'You spoil all my fun… but I tell you now, I'm having a good few drinks tonight.'