DRIVING ON THE WRONG SIDE

"This is ridiculous," spat Dean, throwing his toasted sandwich back onto his plate. "I don't know where any of these places are, signal out here is crap – and why does the cheese taste weird?"

Opposite him, his brother, Sam, could only sigh. He slumped his massive shoulders and slapped the map on the table with the back of his hand.

"We better find something soon," Dean went on, "or I swear, I'm going back home with or without Kevin. Every time I open my mouth these people look at me like I'm a wild animal. I'm gettin' a complex, man!"

"It's not that bad," said Sam. "I mean, I know what you mean, but..." He sighed again and looked out across the fields, squinting against the summer sun. They were currently in a beer garden, in the middle of nowhere, overlooking hundreds of undulating green hills.

Grumbling, Dean picked up his sandwich, thought about it, and then changed his mind. Definitely not the right kind of cheese. They'd been stuck in the UK far longer than he liked. At first it had been fun; hearing Scottish people speak, eating Scottish food, purifying the house with the weird crack in it. But the novelty had gradually worn off.

They didn't have the impala, so they had to rent a car, and driving on the wrong side of the road in a shitty vehicle gave Dean bad dreams at night. People here were aggressive on the road, everything cramped together! He vowed never to drive from one end of England to other ever again.

"I like it here," Sam said, so quietly Dean thought he misheard him. He looked out across the Dorset hills, too (generally speaking, because who knew what any of them were called - location names seemed to change every six miles), preparing to disagree, but he couldn't knock the view.

"Yeah well. You're driving through London. I think I'm gonna go full on Road Rash if I get behind the wheel again," Dean said. "I can't believe we're doin' this. You realise we won't be able to use a single gun, right?"

"I know. But hunters existed long before guns, Dean."

"Is that supposed to make me feel any better?" He gave Sam a hard look, but he didn't shy away. He'd noticed Sam rarely flinched under his gaze any more. "Well, I'd sure feel a lot better if a certain angel showed up!" Dean raised his voice, eyes flickering to the sky.

For a few seconds his chest constricted, desperately hoping Castiel would appear, but he didn't. Familiar disappointment settled in his stomach. He hadn't seen Cas since leaving America, and before that they'd only spent a month in his company.

Cas had returned from purgatory; battered, bruised, broken; and Kevin had vanished. One minute the boy had been stood there, and the next, Cas lay slumped on the floor in his place. The only clue they had to go on was a crack in the wall of Kevin's boat cabin. They couldn't afford to just lose a prophet.

Still, all Dean could really think about was Cas. He worried for him. Worried about the hollow look in his eyes and his lack of energy. What was he playing at?

"Yeah," said Sam, "Cas would make me feel better, too, but he's not here. We've gotta do this alone. For now." Even Sam couldn't resist glancing at the clouds. "The third crack is here." He pointed to a street in London. "Apparently an Amelia Pond has gone missing, last seen entering her home at 11pm last night."

"But let me guess," said Dean, his voice flat, "she disappeared without ever leaving the house, according to surveillance."

"Right." Sam didn't seem deterred by his brother's flippancy. "She was single, recently divorced and worked as a perfume model."

"Nice."

"But get this, she's had a history of long disappearances all throughout her life."

Dean perked up, leaning closer. Something new? About damn time. All the other disappearances had led to dead ends, and with no apparent connection between any of them. Other than the crack, of course (heh, crack), and that each of the missing persons had a miniature police box in their home. Apart from Kevin. No police box on his boat, not that Dean could remember... Ugh, this case sucked.

"Yeah, her parents," Sam continued, "just disappeared when she was seven. Vanished without a trace. She lived alone for months before anyone looked into her parent's absence. So, she was sent to live with her aunt in England."

"Where's she from?"

"Scotland. That's not in England, Dean."

"Shut up, I know." He jerked his chin out, forever confused about the different divisions of England, or Britain, or the UK, whatever. Tea-Land-Mc-No-Sense. He wasn't about to admit that to Sam, though. "Alright, so who else disappeared?"

Sam's quirky smile touched his face. "She did."

"Yeah, I got that."

"No, this has happened to her before, except Ms Pond has only disappeared for a few weeks at a time."

"Maybe she went on vacation," scoffed Dean. This wasn't like Sam to clutch at useless information.

"No, Dean, she literally disappeared. Like, she lost her job four times for taking unrequested leave."

"Four times? Wow."

"Yeah, exactly," said Sam. "And guess what else? She used to say that 'the crack' in her bedroom scared her, and the 'ragged man' promised to fix it, but he never did. Everyone just thought she was crazy, but how much do you wanna bet that her parents disappearance coincides with the appearance of the crack in her bedroom?"

Sam began folding up the map, and Dean could tell from his straight back that Sam was feeling pleased with himself. It couldn't be denied, Sam was pretty awesome at digging up leads.

"So we have four missing people," Sam went on, "not including Ms Pond's parents, and four, probably five identical cracks left in their homes. The only difference in Kevin's case is that Castiel appeared."

"It's gotta be a portal," said Dean. "Castiel was stuck in purgatory. Stuck. Not staying there for a picnic. Maybe, if certain conditions are met in purgatory, or if the angels... Argh!" He shook his head and threw up his hands. "I don't know."

Sam's hair fell over his eyes as he took all of this on board. "If it's a portal, how do you activate it? We studied these things in every way – yelled all kind of spells at them. Even Cas doesn't know how he came through."

"Maybe it only works once."

A small gasp left Sam, his eyes lit up, and Dean felt his pulse quicken. Dammit, he knew that look. "What?"

"Maybe it requires a two-way-swap, like an exchange. That's why Kevin disappeared and Castiel came out. Kevin's not stuck just anywhere, he's in purgatory."

A sick, leaden weight poured through Dean's limbs. Kevin was a great kid, a smart kid, but he wasn't much of a fighter. From personal experience, Dean knew that Kevin was as good as dead. He clenched his hands, unwilling to let that thought take root. Maybe he'd find a friend, like Dean had. Maybe...

"Okay, so what?" Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I didn't see any angels in the last two homes we checked out. If a swap happens, and other people have been disappearing, then what the hell is taking their place?"

Sam just shook his head, face filled with the same fear Dean felt clawing his guts into knots. What if the leviathans were slinking back? What if all their hard work was being undone? Hopelessness threatened to cripple Dean where he sat, so before that happened, he swung out of his seat and said, "Let's go. You're still driving."