Dean Winchester impatiently tapped the steering wheel, not at all liking the London traffic. Sam rolled his brown eyes turning up Kansas to drown out Dean's muttering. He told Dean that it was stupid to bring the Impala to England. They could rent a car and store their weapons there. Dean was only four years older than Sam, and they were both in their thirties, but still, Dean would never listen to his little brother, even if Sam was often right.
Sam regretted his decision to turn up the music as Dean exploded into the chorus of "Carry On My Wayward Son" off-key. Cass joined Dean, and Sam was left waiting for Dean's eternally empty stomach to gurgle so they could get relief.
"Right-o, do you chaps reckon there's a diner off the drive?" Dean said in a horrendous accent.
"Dean," Sam sighed. "I'm telling you this because I love you. Let me talk to the locals. I'm pretty sure it's still legal to drown people you don't like in bogs."
"Don't be ridiculous, Sam," Cass leaned in from the back seat. "Druids stopped doing that before the birth of Christ."
Sam groaned into his hands and let the last notes of Kansas occupy his mind.
As if on cue, a gurgling sound filled the car emanating from Dean's stomach. Now Dean just had to figure out where to go and how to get there. Which was about as fun as raiding a vamp nest in London traffic...no, less.
"Ready to try some of the local cuisine, Sammy!" Dean slapped his brother on the back.
"I'm afraid I have to give one thing to you yanks," a voice sighed from behind them. "Your food is better."
"Jesus!" Dean cried.
Behind the brothers and angel was a tall man, still dwarfed by Sam, Dean and Cass with balding dark hair and always hungry brown eyes. Crowley had been the reason for this international excursion. Some mystical disturbance that he and Cass detected that called for the Winchesters' attention. Sam noted the vagueness never went away. As if looking for specifics caused some sort of confusion.
Sam shrugged. Angels and demons loved their cryptic warnings and prophecies. They'd handle it, they hadn't had an apocalypse yet this year. Sam was ready, he had the books, and researched the Ley-lines and kept an ear to the ground. Maybe Sam should have been less cocky, he typically aired on the side of caution, but something told him this wouldn't end in any of their deaths. Not a permanent one anyway.
The lot of them went into the small pub, a bell ringing through the door. They sat down at the nearest table, Sam noticed a lack of booths in favour of circular tables with chairs. Once they were seated, they opened their menus and started to decipher their options.
"Looks like a pub, menu like a desert place," Dean scoffed. "Who eats pudding with their beer?"
"That's not pudding, Dean," Sam said.
"If it's not pudding, what is it?" Dean raised a challenging eyebrow.
"Pig's innards stuffed with blood and bits of oat and unwanted beef scraps," Cass answered plainly.
"Why would they call sausage pudding?" Dean rolled his eyes.
"It's a conspiracy to confuse you, Dean," Sam groaned.
"Are you lot going to discuss the case any time soon or are you just going to bicker like children?" Crowley asked. "I have souls to collect, a hell dimension to rule, and I'm missing an episode of Passions."
"I would have ended on 'a hell dimension to rule'," Dean blinked at Crowley.
A young waitress came to their table with long brown hair in twin braids and a black dress with pen in hand, ready to take their order.
Do child labour laws not exist here? Sam thought as the girl evaluated them with a curious face.
'Jane', he would have to ask after her. She seemed too young.
Dean didn't seem to notice, it might have just been Sam. "I'll have the fish and chips and the pie."
"Anything to drink with that?" she asked before quickly adding. "Sir?"
"Coffee."
Jane took their orders and disappeared. They talked in circles over their meals, concluding with no new information other than what they flew across the Atlantic with. Jane came back with a dish that looked like a pie crust over fish heads poking out of it.
"Oh," Dean said as she placed it in front of him. "I ordered the pie."
"The pie today is Stargazey, sir," she explained. "It's sardines, egg, custard and-"
"This is not pie," Dean poked at it with his fork.
"Sorry, sir," she said. "I'm being called elsewhere."
"I'm not tipping," Dean sulked.
"You're not supposed to tip here anyway," Sam reminded him. "Give the kid a break."
"This is not pie!" Dean emphatically gestured at the 'Stargazy' pie.
"Then don't eat it, Dean," Jack rolled his eyes.
"Wait," Crowley blinked for a moment. "Who's the kid?"
"Jack?" Cass asked. "You've met Jack. Lucifer's son."
"You met him multiple times," Sam exchanging confused looks with Cass, Jack and Dean.
