Sorry for the wait, but this is a nice long chapter. Enjoy!
Old Mr Jones' front garden had never been busier. Of course, it wasn't every day that two large Americans stood directly in front of his exhibit, examining it at length and talking in low voices. The people around them whispered to each other and glared at them but nobody said anything because a) they were all too polite and British and b) the Americans were really very large. Additionally, if anyone could hear what they were saying to each other, they'd probably be scared for a whole different reason.
"I'm telling you man, it's alien!" Dean insisted.
"You're being ridiculous," Sam said. "I don't know whether it's the lack of sleep or the sea air that's addled your brain but-"
"My brain is NOT addled." Dean sounded like a grumpy child. "What do you think it is then?"
"I don't know some kind of sea spirit maybe…"
"What kind of spirit lays eggs?"
"It's more plausible than aliens."
Dean opened his mouth to retort, and then closed it again. His eyes suddenly widened and a grin spread across his face. "Dude."
Sam sighed. He knew that grin. "What?"
"What if it's mermaids?"
Sam stared at him. Then his face broke into a grin almost identical to his brother's.
"You mean beautiful topless women swimming around all mysterious and glistening with sea water?"
"Exactly."
"I wish. But I don't think its mermaids."
"Why not?"
"Because that's what the general public's saying."
"So?"
"Since when is the general public ever right?"
"Good point. So I guess we're back to aliens."
"WE were never on aliens. YOU were on aliens."
"C'mon Sammy, after all we've seen you're seriously ruling out the extra-terrestrial? Normal people generally think aliens are more plausible than the supernatural."
"An excellent point."
The brother's spun round and found themselves face to face with a tall, skinny man who looked to be in his late fifties with wide, staring eyes, huge eyebrows and an excitable, almost manic air about him. Sam was the first to get used to his startling appearance.
"Sorry, you are…?
"No one. Forgive me for interrupting but I couldn't help over hearing. Your friend is right in saying people generally find the extra-terrestrial more believable than the supernatural. Now, let's have a look at you. Burly, American, taller and wider than strictly necessary…I take it you're hunters? I hope you're hunting partners. You make an excellent couple."
"We're not-"
"You're not? Well you sure bicker like you're married. Now, back to business. First off, I lied."
"You did?" Sam's head was buzzing.
"Yup. I do that sometimes. I'm not No one. I'm the doctor."
"Doctor who?" Dean asked the classic question.
"Just the doctor. And you would be…?"
"I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam."
"Winchester?"
"You've heard of us?"
"Of course I've heard of you. I'm so glad you're here, and I don't say that to just anyone. Your reputation precedes you. Now…" He pointed to the glass case. "Ask me what that is."
"What's that?"
"No idea. But I'm on my way to the beach to dig up another if you'd care to help. I may have need of your brute strength."
Sam looked at him. "You mean the beach that's taped off and surrounded by police men?"
"That's the one."
"Count us in."
"Marvellous. Off we go then." He strode off ahead of them and they followed, not entirely sure why they were doing so but sure that it was the right thing to do in the situation.
When they got to the beach, the doctor pulled out a leather wallet and flashed it at the policeman on duty.
"Detective Smith, here to investigate the disappearances. These gentlemen are my muscle. Mind if we take a look around?"
The policeman nodded and lifted the police tape. "Watch your step."
The trio ducked under the tape and carefully picked their way across the beach until they were out of sight of the policemen. The doctor pointed to two shovels leaning against a rock. "Get digging."
"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked, taking a shovel.
The doctor whipped out a long metal instrument with a green light on top. "I'm going to do some scanning to see if I can't pinpoint exactly where you should dig."
"What is that?" Sam asked, nodding at the instrument.
"It's a sonic screwdriver."
"What does it do?"
"It sonics things. You aren't half full of questions aren't you?"
"What-"
"Shut up and dig. You want to find out what this thing is or not?"
Sam and Dean looked at each other and began shovelling sand around, the doctor directing them to different spots. Eventually, Dean dug up a slimy, squashy lump similar to the one in Mr Jones's garden.
"Oh well done!" the doctor exclaimed when he saw what Dean was holding. He raised his sonic. "May I…?"
Dean held out the lump and the doctor scanned it.
"Yup, definitely some kind of egg. I'm going to have to do a proper scan to establish the species though. I'll take it back to my ship and get back to you."
"You have a ship?" Dean said, handing it over.
"Of course I have a ship," the doctor said impatiently. "I'll show you sometime. Maybe. Now go and enjoy the rest of your day, and I'll meet you tomorrow back in Mr Jones's garden. Ta ta!" And with that, he bounded off, leaving the brothers dumbfounded.
They walked through the town in silence, not quite sure what to say.
"Interesting bloke," Sam eventually said "Guess we're working for him now."
"He seems to know what he's doing," Dean said. "Might be our best chance at finding out what's going on here."
"Where do you think he's from?"
"Bet you he's an alien," Dean said.
"Dean come on-"
"That sonic thingy was definitely alien technology. And did you hear what he said about the spaceship?"
"Ship, Dean. He said ship."
"Short for spaceship."
Sam rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "Fancy getting a traditional English breakfast?"
"Heart attack on a plate? I'm up for that."
The brothers spent the rest of the day exploring the town, being chased away from the beaches by the British weather and checking out the museums, much to Dean's disgust. He cheered up, however, when they spent the evening in a bar chatting up pretty girls with sexy British accents. Jet lag eventually caught up with them, and they excused themselves and stumbled back to their quarters and into bed.
It felt like Sam had only just closed his eyes when he was awoken by loud voices outside. It was 8.30am, Mr Jones's discovery wasn't due to be viewed for another half an hour, so what was all the noise?
He got up, stretched and opened the curtains. Outside, people were milling around and policemen were present, asking questions and taking notes. There was even a reporter with a camera.
"Dean," Sam said, shaking his brother. "Dean wake up!"
"Whassamatter?" Dean said groggily, reluctantly sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.
"Something's happened. I think it's to do with Mr Jones's egg."
Suddenly Dean was wide awake. "Police?"
"Several."
"Reporters?"
"Just the one. But then it is a small town."
"True. Let's go check it out. Reckon the doctor's there already?"
"Most likely."
Five minutes later, Sam and Dean were standing outside, just two more members of the nosy crowd.
"What's going on?" Sam asked a woman standing next to him.
"Break in."
"Really? Is that it?"
"If by 'it' you are referring to the fact that poor Frank's house was turned upside down but the only thing missing is his museum piece then yes. That is it."