It had been a successful day for the Torchwood team. They'd done their usual thing: investigated, then made it safe. Of course, the problem they'd just dealt with was only a weevil. This made it an easy trip, because they had their anti-weevil spray, and a few large nets to help them get the beast into the back of the black van. Now they were on their way back to the hub.

"I'm starving. It's past lunchtime," Gwen commented.

"Yeah? You're not the one who didn't get to finish a perfectly good pastry," Owen mumbled.

"Oh, quit complaining. You've been doing this all day and it's starting to make my head hurt," Gwen replied.

"My head will start hurting too, if you two don't stop bickering." Both Gwen and Owen looked at Jack, who had spoken.

Jack parked the van and they all jumped out. Toshiko, however, tripped, spilling all the contents of her purse onto the pavement. The others were already too far ahead, so she simply yelled to them to continue walking. Though they probably hadn't heard her, they kept walking anyway as she hurriedly picked up the spillage.

"Where's Tosh?" Jack asked offhandedly while they entered the small gift shop that contained the hidden entrance to the hub.

"I'm here!" she answered him, rushing up to the door.

Ianto greeted them, nodding to each of them as they filed down the hallway that led to the biggest room at Torchwood 3.

"Ianto! You should go get us some pizza!" Owen called.

"Pizza in the afternoon? Are you crazy?" Gwen said.

Owen smiled. "Yes, and very hungry."

"I'll go make some sandwiches," offered Toshiko, setting her purse down on her desk.

"Thank you, Tosh!" Owen yelled as the small woman rushed out of sight.

Everyone else, excluding Ianto, went off to their own workspace. The familiar and calm hum of the technology in the room was now joined by an even more familiar and louder noise as the team went about their business.

"I hope it was a good hunt?" Ianto said to Jack politely.

"What?" Jack looked up from a few papers. "Oh, yeah. We got the weevil. I need you to help me bring it in, actually."

"Wonderful, sir."

Before Ianto had even completely turned around to go get supplies, Jack spoke again. "And Ianto? Don't call me 'sir'."

"Yes, s- I mean, yes, Jack."

Jack smiled widely at him, giving him a full range of gleaming white teeth. For a man who had lived through over a hundred years, Jack sure did have nice teeth. Perhaps he had a skilled dentist. Or maybe it was this doctor he occasionally and briefly mentioned. Ianto realized he was still standing there, though, so he continued about his task before pondering any further.

Stepping outside, he was hit by a strong breeze of cool air. Shivering, he wrapped his arms loosely around himself. He of course was used to the chilly weather. This was, after all, Wales. Also, a strong breeze was typical of places near larger bodies of water and Wales was relatively flat, so wind swept over it like a couple of just cracked eggs rolling over a greased pan. Yet, the breeze that Ianto felt disturbed him somehow. He knew it was only the wind, though he couldn't help but imagine it was angry, pushing up against him with force, screaming as it whistled past his ears. It carried the scent of rotten eggs. Quickly, Ianto made his way for the parked van. He had to bring it closer to the Hub so they could transfer the weevil.

Even as he approached the black vehicle, that reflected the little sunlight that made it through the overcast sky, Ianto could tell that the weevil was sensing the uneasiness about the air, too. It was crying, making loud, sad moaning noises that were carried off in the wind. Ianto imagined it was pushing itself into the dark corner, trying to escape an invisible foe.

"Hey."

Halted in the act of reaching for the door handle, Ianto peered around for the source of the voice. His eyes landed on the taller of the two brothers who had visited him earlier. He exhaled in relief at the fact that it was the kinder of the two. "Sam, was it?"

Sam nodded. "What's in there?" he asked, indicating the back of the van with a slight tilt of his head. His hands were tucked away into the pockets of his dark green coat, and even though the coat was zipped up, a small amount of the plaid shirt he wore underneath was visible.

Despite trusting Sam more than his impulsive brother, Ianto was cautious of what Sam might be holding in his deep pockets. He eyed them while he responded, "A weevil."

"A weevil?"

"Yes," Ianto said. "They're like pests, they live in the sewers and account for most of the animal attacks we get around here."

Sam seemed confused. "Do most of your animal attacks occur in the sewers, then?"

"What? Oh, no. Weevils tend to surface once and awhile. Then, it's our job to catch them."

Sam thought for a moment. "Why does this only happen here? I've never heard of or seen one. If they're like pests, then shouldn't they be everywhere?"

Ianto shook his head. "A lot of strange things go on about Cardiff. Sometimes there's a case outside of Wales, but mostly we work here. There's a rift in space and time here or something…Jack is much better at explaining it than I am."

Suddenly something lit up in Sam's eyes, and Ianto could almost see a light bulb turn on over his head. "I have a feeling this 'rift' might have something to do with the case," he said.

Jack was hurriedly finding his way toward where they last parked the black van. Ianto had not yet driven in with the weevil, and Jack was becoming very concerned. Ianto was a very punctual person, and too many things could've been factored in to his lateness, some things worse than others. The weevil could've gotten loose and ripped him into bloody streamers, or an unexpected anomaly in the fabric of time could've pulled him back to the 1940's. Or, less fatal, the van could have run out of fuel or Ianto could've been mugged. Either way, Jack new that something had gone wrong, or else they would be locking a weevil into a cell by now.

His feet beat a steady rhythm into the cement ground as he made his way down the sidewalk. He knew he just had to turn one more corner, then he'd be-

Blam!

-fallen on the sidewalk, apparently. He'd taken a sharp turn and collided directly into a man who must've only about an inch taller than himself. The man must've not taken as much of a hit, because he was up on his feet in the half the time it took Jack.

"Whoa there, Speedy Gonzales," he said, sweeping off his tan jacket, then offering a hand to Jack. He wore a plaid shirt under his jacket, and his light-brown hair was cut short.

Jack accepted the man's help, taking his hand and hoisting himself off the ground. "Thank y- oh, hello." The man was handsome, and he smiled at Jack.

"You took a tumble there, man. Where are you headed off to?"

"I'm looking for a friend," Jack replied.

"I'm just out running errands, and it's too late to be off alone. Why don't you let me help? I can drive you." The man smiled again, but this time Jack noticed the expression didn't reach his eyes.

Jack snuck a peek around the corner, where the van should've been visible, but neither it nor Ianto were there.

Dean had to constantly remind himself to drive in the lane on the left side of the road as he took directions from the man in the passenger seat. When Sammy and he had come over the Atlantic Ocean, they had traveled by boat instead of by plane, due to Dean's terrible phobia of flying and the incident a few years back with the phantom passenger, which had only made Dean's fear of air travel worse. Dean had managed to persuade Sam to let them bring the Impala. Though it had been a rough trip, they'd made it alive. (Sam still dreaded the idea of getting back onto that boat on their way back to the states.) The car he was driving now was his beloved Impala, and he gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles ghostly white, as he nearly hit another car. "European drivers are crazy," he mumbled under his breath.

He'd planned on running into who he assumed was a member of Torchwood, to give Sammy more time with Ianto. He was supposed to be a lookout, but so far, he hadn't had a chance to call his brother and give him a heads up. However, he still had an idea, so he pulled out his phone with one hand, while keeping the other on the steering wheel. Dialing up Sammy, he excused himself to Jack.

After the first ring, Sammy picked up. "Dean?"

"Yeah, hey honey."

"Dean, are you feeling alright…?"

"Of course I got the milk, dear. But I'm gonna be a minute because I'm helping someone find their friend,-" Dean looked over toward Jack, whispering, "Who?" and Jack replied with the expected answer. "-Ianto."

"You're in the car with someone from Torchwood, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"I'm going to get out of here. Meet me at that pizza place…I think it was Jubilee Pizza."

"Don't worry, I don't plan on taking too long. Love you. Bye."

Dean put his phone away, relieved Sammy understood.

"Running errands?" Jack said.

"Yeah, for my…uh, girlfriend, Sam." Dean said, trying to appear honest. He'd lied frequently in his past, but had never been able to keep his secrets forever. At least this was a mostly random man. Dean decided it would be easier to lie to him than to Cas or Sam, both of who he cared for. Giving the man a sideways glance, Dean said, "So, uh, what's your friend look like?"

"Attractive, black suit, brown hair, blue eyes," Jack replied with a bubbly, light voice. He waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. "I'm sure he'll be fine out alone, he's a grown man. I just need him to help me out with something back where we work, and he's been out for a while."

Dean knew the man was lying, of course, probably because he himself was lying to Jack, and hey, a liar knows a liar. But what if Jack did know about Dean, and how he was lying to him? He had been giving Dean a plastic smile and a cold eye the entire car ride. Or perhaps Dean was simply imagining things. Despite his calm stature, Jack intimidated Dean slightly.

"Yeah, well," Dean responded, feigning nonchalance, "I'm sure we'll find him in less than an hour. From what I've seen, this area isn't too big."

"He has a tendency of getting tied up in bad situations, though," Jack said.

Dean kept his eyes on the left side of the road, hoping he wasn't being betrayed by the way his hands nervously gripped the wheel. His knuckles were ghostly pale and he pulled his resistant lips into a strangled grin. Nodding, he took a quick look over towards the passenger seat to see Jack staring at him curiously. God, how he wished the man would stop looking quite so skeptical.

Jack shifted, and it was obvious he was about to speak by the way he opened his mouth for a moment, then took a breath. "You might actually recognize him."

"What?" Dean said, his best imitation of innocence plastered onto his face. "No, dude, you've got it wrong. Me and my brother – I mean, my girlfriend - are just visiting, we have no idea who this Ianto guy is."

"That's right, you were with your brother at a bar. I remember, you were going around asking everyone if they'd been experiencing anything odd lately. Aside from that being strange itself, you are also a remarkably handsome man, and I wouldn't forget a face like yours."

Dean stopped the car, right there in the middle of the street, which wasn't that big of a deal, since the roads appeared to be relatively clear. The absence of the noise the engine produced created a painful silence, the man boring his blue eyes into the place where Dean's soul should've been. "Okay," he admitted, "we were at a bar the other night. In fact, we've been at a lot of bars. You see, my brother is a marine biologist, and I tagged along with him while he's doing his little project. I mean, all he would've brought back for me would've been one of those 'My Brother Went to Wales and Only got Me This Lousy T-Shirt' shirts. I'm not gonna wear that!"

Jack shook his head, and though the suspicious look was wiped off his tan face, he still didn't seem to believe Dean. Actually, this merely made Dean more uncomfortable, the way that Jack so easily accepted his excuse. He wasn't that good of a liar, was he? Dean was glad to start up the engine again and let the gentle roar of the Impala's heart crash through the quiet night.

The car ride was mostly silent after that, except for the few occasions when Jack would recommend going down a certain street, or suggest that they get out and search specific stores, which they did. Jack still seemed oddly cool, and sometimes like he was about to say something, but he never did. Eventually they halted in the same general spot where they'd started. Jack got out, a look of worry on his face, the door slamming behind him. Dean got out also, but closed the door carefully.

"I don't know where he'd be, man," he said, sounding disappointed.

"I'll probably find him best now if I can get my other friends to help me. We're…kind of a team."

"Do you need my help?" Dean said, hoping he appeared to be genuine.

Jack shook his head. "No. Thank you." Then he quickly disappeared around a corner.

Dean frowned. It'd been too easy. Jack had been simply too easy to distract, and to get rid of. Dean sensed a trap, his gut churning. The way Ianto had described his teammates, they were exceptionally skilled at catching things that weren't human. Shouldn't Jack have been able to notice that there was more than one thing odd about Dean? He shivered, and instead of getting into the Impala and driving off to meet Sam and Ianto at Jubilee Pizza, he made his way down the same sidewalk Jack had just walked down.

He went around a corner just in time to see a flap of Jack's trench coat whip around a building. He pursued, breaking into a light jog to keep up. Soon, he stumbled upon a large patch of cream-colored cement. It was empty, devoid of Jack, or any other human. A lonely bat swooped overhead, trying unsuccessfully to catch prey. A piece of garbage, a small plastic bag, slid down the sidewalk, carried on the soft breeze. Dean peered around, one hand resting on the pistol inside his jacket pocket. He was so on edge that if anything made a sound he'd shoot-

And suddenly, in a frantic fury, bullets were flying everywhere. They were all coming from Dean's gun, of course. Someone was behind him, tightening a net around his body and tying a bandana over his eyes. He didn't flail, however. He was eerily calm, and he managed to shoot one of his targets even with his eyes covered; he could hear the bullet entering their flesh, and their yell. Someone quickly tore the gun away from him, though, and he was left seemingly defenseless.

"Tie his hands and feet, we're bring him back to the Hub," said a warm, familiar voice with an American accent. It was Jack's voice.

Dean smiled. "Hi Jack! I just came to help."

"We don't need your help," said someone else, a woman. She was loud and her voice was rude.

"Especially not if this is the kind of help you're offering," another added, a male.

When firm hands began securing his hands and feet with a strong rope-like material, Dean reacted. He hadn't wanted to, had in fact tried to control himself, but had failed. In an instant, the firm hands were torn away from him as the human they belonged to was hurdled across the concrete. The sound of their skull nearly cracking on the hard surface gave Dean an odd sense of pleasure. He only smiled larger.

"You're sick! What did you do to him?" screamed the rude-sounding woman, followed by hurried footsteps.

"Don't mind me," said the male voice bitterly. "I'm just the one who's shot. Go ahead and help the immortal."

Dean could almost taste the hateful glare that the rude woman must've sent to the man he'd put a bullet through. After a moment of silence, however, the rude-sounding woman yelled, "Tosh, tie him up!"

Again, hands began tying the strange rope material around Dean's hands, yet this time the movements were jerkier, and the hands were hesitant. Taking advantage, Dean pulled his hands loose of the unfinished knot and punched the owner of the hesitant hands in what was presumably their face. They produced a small oomf sound as he tore the bandana off of his eyes. In one sweeping look, he viewed the entire scene around him.

Jack lay on the ground, a hand gingerly testing the back of his skull, coming away wet, and a woman with dark long hair and freckles stooped to help him. An Asian woman, who carried a black purse and had her black hair tied up in a ponytail stood up next to Dean, wiping a small amount of blood off from under her nose. She seemed terrified, though she had sustained a very petty wound compared to her friends. A fourth person, the man who Dean had shot, was over to Dean's right, fidgeting with a gun while simultaneously attempting to cradle an injured arm. The sleeve of his right shoulder was darkening, glistening in the lessening light that broke through the overcast sky. He seemed in pain, but tried to hide it as he raised his gun in his left hand.

"No, man," Dean said, raising a hand toward the gun that was pointed at him. "Just don't." The weapon flew out of the man's hand, landing with a clink on the sidewalk about ten feet away.

"What the hell are you?" he asked, frowning. He kept a calm face, but Dean knew he was frightened greatly. He could hear his heartbeat, ready to burst the poor man's chest open. Ba-boom ba-boom. It was all so obvious, the way the man blinked too much, the thin film of sweat that was gathering above his brow, and the slight shaking of his hands. The man was alarmed, and he wished he had his gun, wished that he wasn't so defenseless, so vulnerable. He wished that this monster before him wouldn't tear him up, to end his life in some unconceivable way. To rip him open like a juicy blood orange and leave his face as unidentifiable as his intestines. Inside, this man was crying for his life.

And Dean liked it.

I hope you're liking it so far! I'm kind of changing the Deanmon plotline so that Dean retained a small amount of his humanity, and continued to hunt with Sam after the end of season 9.

If you're enjoying it, or want to say something, leave a comment. Tell me if I should upload more chapters!