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Dean grumbled as many sounds filled his head. Cars, people... where were they? He remembers a cave... 1860.... what happened? He opened his eyes slowly. It was dark and a little cold. He was sitting up against a brick wall. His eyes found Sam leaning against a wall across from him. Were they in an alley? "Sam?" he said quietly, groaning at the headache that had started in his skull.

Sam stirred and inhaled deeply as he opened his eyes. "Dean?" He looked around groggily. "What...what happened?"

"I don't know," Dean answered. When he finally realized what had happened, he slapped his hand to his forehead, immediately and fully regretting it when his headache worsened. A shaky breath escaped from a figure, slumped against a dumpster. "Dammit, Cas..." Dean hissed as he moved to the angel. He placed a hand on Cas' forehead. He was burning up. Dean swore again as he placed two fingers against Cas' neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he found a pulse, faint but steady.

"I'm gonna go check where we are." Sam said as he stood up and walked towards the street which was dimly light by street lamps.

Dean pulled out a flashlight and shined it on Cas' shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, but it needed to be held together at least until they can find a proper place to tend to it. He shed his own jacket and used his knife to cut it into strips. He cut the rest of Castiel's dress shirt off, and tied the "bandages" around the angel's shoulder. He pulled the trench coat around his body tighter, to better hide the injury. "Sam, know where we are yet?" He said, looking up at the tall figure of his brother standing at the entrance.

A few moments passed before Sam answered "Well..." Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Castiel onto his back and pushed himself to his feet. Cas inhaled sharply when Dean accidentally jostled him, bumping his shoulder against the wall. He quickly whispered an apology before he walked to Sam's side to see where they were.

There were a few cars parked on the street. Apartments line the sidewalk. "Is that... Big Ben?" Sam asked pointing out towards the familiar looking clock tower that stood against the fiery orange and red sky. Dean looked back at the cars and realized the steering wheels were on the RIGHT side of the vehicle. He shook his head in disbelief. "No, no, no..." Sam turned to face his brother, having the same thought as him.

"Are we in friggin' England???"

The sun had fully set a half hour before the brothers stopped to rest at a bench. The air cooled in temperature, bringing a touch of relief to Castiel's warm face. Sam and Dean were both sitting in front of the bench, the unconscious angel laid on his back, twitching fitfully in his sleep. At least he wasn't sleep talking.

"London..." Dean sighed. "How will we get out of this?"

"You got me." Same said with a laugh. A slight evening breeze gently blew hair out of his face. Unlike Dean, he found accidentally landing in England slightly amusing. Dean, however, was irritated by the fact that he's here in England, while his “baby”, the Impala, is still back in Kentucky, were they left it before hunting the spider thing.

*

John was walking along the sidewalk, carrying a plastic bag of groceries. His cell phone buzzed in his jacket pocket and he pulled out to see a text from Sherlock.

“Experiments have taken an interesting turn, will be home late- S.”

He sighed as he returned the phone to his pocket. He was coming up to the corner of the street, where he would turn onto Baker street, when he saw two young men sitting in front of a bench. He thought it an odd sight until he noticed a third one laying on his back, sweat shining under the street light. Medical training and saving lives in the army, he felt concerned so he approached the group.

"Excuse me, is your friend alright?" He asked quietly.

Their heads turned towards his voice with a shocked expression, as if they were racking their brains for a convincing lie, but finding none, they glanced at each other.

"Got bit. Thing was huge." The green-eyed one said. Sounded American.

John walked closer, "May I?" he asked. When the man nodded, John knelt next to the bench to inspect the man. His breaths seemed shallow and strained. He pulled the bloodied trench coat gently to the man's shoulder that was hastily bandaged. Picking up the man's wrist, John found his faint but steady pulse. He looked up at the other two, "He's going to need a better place to rest. I've some medicine and clean bandages in my flat. If it's alright with you, I can treat him." They both thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. John smiled and reached out his hand, "My name is John Watson, by the way."