||What Goes Bump in the Night|| (Ash)

[Brown Bear]

This was not happening.

This was not happening.

Dean didn't know how much more of this he could take. He didn't know how many times he was going to have to keep reminding Castiel; Don't zap us somewhere and then just poof!

Because that's exactly what happened. At least he had all his things, minus the Impala. His poor baby, left in his brother's dirty hands. Okay, so maybe he's exaggerating, but still. His things and the case. Which, for whatever reason, it was decided that he would get dropped off here.

London, England.

From what he knew, there were tons of reports of some kind of creature running around the streets, terrorizing people at night. It could be just about anything that he knew of. His first thought had been Vampire, but it was starting to look cold in that direction.

Whatever it was, he just wanted to gank it and get the hell out of here.

The hunter found that he had to correct currency in his pocket when he found a motel. Well that's one good thing so far, so maybe he wouldn't tear the angel a new one.

This is also why they never did any hunting overseas. It was difficult when trying to trick someone into thinking you were FBI, because what would they be here for? So maybe he's play the part of a tourist.

When he got to his room, he took his time to clean his weapons. Careful hands disassembling the gun guns, fingers meticulously cleaning the crevices. This was the best thing about a hunt, really, aside from the satisfaction of knowing you killed some monster.

Dean spent the rest of the evening in his room, waiting till night fell. When night came, that's when he left the room, weapons hidden in spots all over his person in easy to reach places.

Now it was time to wait and see what goes bump in the night.

[ash]

"'scuse me, sorry, Torchwood, Special Ops, coming through!" Jack called out as he pushed and shoved his way through the crowded streets of downtown London, sprinting as fast as he could, holding a piece of alien technology out in front of him, tracking down the alien that had managed to dodge Tosh and Owen. Spinning around to avoid colliding head on with an middle-aged man who didn't move out of his way quick enough, he swore under his breath, before using his free hand to press the communicator at his ear. "Gwen, Ianto," he called, ducking under a block, just barely stumbling before regaining his footing. "Heading through St. James Square now, North East! Head us off at Regent Street," he barked, hearing their affirmations as he vaulted over a hedge row.

"Come on, come one," he muttered, dropping his gaze to check his tracker, finding the signal growing fainter and fainter. Shaking his head, he redoubled his efforts, breathing heavily as he sprinted, glancing down to consult the tracker once more, entirely missing the young man in his path, accidentally hitting him full force, sending them both tumbling to the ground. "Dammit," he cursed, shaking his head, starting the process of standing up, but stumbling. His eyes widened, hand dropping to his stomach, pressing against the source of his sudden pain. Bringing his hand up to his face, he groaned as he saw the blood covering it, sitting back down on the ground, eyeing up the man he'd run into. Didn't seem to be injured, but dammit, that wound felt pretty deep. "What the hell are you doing, carrying weapons around?" he demanded, gritting his teeth. Shaking his head, he pressed the communicator again, "Gwen, it's on its way," he growled out, "get it and bring it back to the hub, or take it down," he ordered, before turning his attention back to the man he'd collided with, eyeing him up. Not bad looking in the least. "Well?" he demanded, waiting for his answer, keeping pressure on his new wound.

[Brown Bear]

Dean thought he heard something, upper body turning some so he could look at his surroundings, he'd have to get moving soon.

Damn, he wished he knew what he was looking for, it'd be easier. Now he was hoping for anything but a shifter and a vampire. In a city this big, it'd be difficult to get a pin point, even if it was narrowed down to a certain area.

Right as he was turning back around, he felt another body collide with his, sending him sprawling to the ground. Holy shit!

It took him a few moments to get a grip on the ground to push himself back up, listening to the man demand questions. He didn't have time for this! Dean's vision cleared as he stared at the man, but eyes going down to the other's stomach that was being gripped. Was that blood? Did he already have that before running into him? Or..?

He immediately looked over his own body, pinpointing the demon killing knife he had at his belt bucket. He pulled it up and inspected it, eyeing the blood on it.

"Shit, shit, shit," he mumbled, stuffing it into his back pocket to knell beside the man.

"Hey man, I'm sorry. How bad is it?" This was just great, he hadn't even been here for 5 hours and he's already stabbing innocent people. But at least the man wasn't a demon. That was good thing, right?

[ash]

Clenching his jaw, Jack moved to lean against the low wall he'd come over before knocking this guy over, eyeing him once more. "Why...the hell are you carrying knives around?" he demanded once more, starting to feel a bit light headed. Dammit, not this again... Running his clean hand through his hair, he shook his head, forcing a smile. He was gonna be useless chasing the alien they were after until he dragged himself back from the dead again, so he figured he may as well not fight it. "Might wanna be more careful with that," he commented, arching a brow, before groaning slightly. "I'm gonna be fine," he reassured the man, gasping as he spoke, "next one may not be so lucky."

Turning his attention away for a moment, he pressed the communicator in his ear, "Tosh...gonna need some retcon," a slight pause as he eyed the man, beckoning him over, "St James Square. ASAP." Grabbing the stranger's wrist, pulling him closer. "You," he ground out, "stay here," he ordered, "and keep people away from the square," he gestured, "no matter what. Tell them...it's Torchwood business." Dropping the man's wrist, he leaned back, watching as his vision grew blurry, before eventually fading to black, and just like that, he was dead. For beyond the thousandth time.

After a full minute of excruciating pain, much like the sensation of being dragged full body over an expanse of broken glass. Opening his eyes, he gasped, sucking in as much air as possible in that first breath, arching his back, and coughing a few times, breathing heavily as he regained his bearings. "Remind me not to do that again," he joked halfheartedly, shaking his head, and running his hands through his hair.

[Brown Bear]

Oh man, this could not get any worse could it? Dean fretted for a moment, deciding whether he should give Cas a call or not. What kind of answer should he give?

"Uh, well. Because I'm on a job right now." That was good enough. "I'm careful with it.. ninety-nine point nine percent of the time." He couldn't help but rub the back of his neck. When he said he would be fine, Dean wasn't sure if he should believe him or not. If it happened to him, he'd be out for the count.

He continued to watch him, head leaning to the side to see the ear communicator. Who the hell had those? Dean was startled out of his musing when his wrist was grabbed.

Was.. was this guy ordering him to do this? He didn't need this right now!

"What? I can't do that, I have.. important things to do! I don't want to stay in this place any longer then I have do, dude! And what the hell is Torchwood?" When the hand released his wrist, Dean almost, almost freaked out. "Woah, woah! Hey, don't you die!" Without thinking, he snatched the man's wrist up and checked his pulse. Nothing.

"Goddamnit," the hunter growled, standing up and pulling out his colt, getting it ready and kept a tight hold on it. He needed to get out of here. He was not getting arrested over here. He had enough shit after him back home, so no need to add another place looking for him.

He was about to leave when he heard the sudden gasp. Wide, green eyes looked back to the guy who was supposed to be dead. That..

That was not normal human behavior. The gun in his hand came up, aiming at the man's head. His own body taking a few steps back. Was this what he came over here to hunt?

"What the hell are you," Dean spat.

[ash]

Shaking his head, finally catching his breath, Jack pressed a hand to the ground, pushing himself up to his feet, eyeing the blood staining his shirt with a small frown. He'd gone through way too many clothes lately, shirts especially, considering it was damn hard to get bloodstains out of clothes. Stretching himself out a bit, he straightened his clothes out, brushing the dust off his coat, glad for the lack of blood on it. Schooling his features into a flirtatious grin, he turned his attention to the man, ready to offer an introduction, and play nice until Tosh arrived with the Retcon, and he could dose the stranger, taking care of the whole mess, and keeping Torchwood's cover, only to see him leveling a gun at his head.

Brown eyes growing wide, Jack raised his hands, palm out, in the sign for surrender. "Hey, hey, no need for that," he attempted to soothe the man, not particularly feeling like getting shot -- especially not in the head. Raising his brows, Jack kept his hands out in the same position, keeping his posture relaxed, trying to seem like as much of a non-threat as possible. "I'm human," he replied evenly, taking a slow step towards the other brunette. Keeping his eyes trained on the man, he moved a hand to his ear once more, "Tosh, how's that Retcon coming?" he demanded, impatience seeping into his voice a bit, growling slightly at the response. They'd gotten caught up with the alien...looks like he got to handle this on on his own.

Moving slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his ID, and offering it to the man. "I'm with Torchwood," he explained slowly, "Special Ops." After a moment's pause, something struck him -- the other man shared his accent, as opposed to the English and Welsh ones he had become accustomed to hearing. "Not from around here, are you?" he questioned lightly, smile springing to his features. Keeping one hand raised, he offered the man his other for a handshake. "Captain Jack Harkness, at your service," he asserted, resisting the urge to wink at the younger man. Didn't seem quite appropriate, given the situation.

[Brown Bear]

Dean kept green eyes trained on the man. Could this night possibly get any weirder? The hold on his gun never faltered as the man started to stand. Any other time, he'd help the man up, but no, not this time. Not when he didn't know what the hell he was.

"No, no. That ain't a human thing. Human's don't die, then come back to life. Now what are you? A vampire? Or a demon?"

Because he did check the guy's pulse when there was none, so it was possible. He could have been playing possum. Though a demon sounded more likely. Goddamn bastards.

"Enough with the Torchwood. What the hell is it? Some kind of secret cult?"

He didn't have time for this. Dean was pretty positive that if this was what he came over here to hunt, it would have already attacked. No need to waste time, but he decided to entertain the man--Jack.

"Not from around here, no. A friend of mine just dropped me off here a few hours ago." How true was that.

When the hand extended towards him, Dean eyed it for a moment. Then he looked back to Jack's face. Oh what the hell. He grabbed the hand in a tight hold, shaking it.

"Dean. Dean Winchester."

He pulled away just as quick. "Now I'm sorry to break up this little tea party, but I got some business to take care of so I can get the hell out of here."

The gun was placed back in its spot as he turned and started walking off, mumbling to himself in a semi-low voice.

"This is why I hate angels. Really Cas, England?" His head tipped up so he could scowl at the sky.