"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty" Deans voice cut his dream in two as Sam groggily opened his eyes. Pushing himself up in his seat, he glanced at his brother, then at the road, the headlights of the Impala illuminating only a small segment of the road ahead.

"Where are we?"

"Less than a mile outta town. You've been asleep for a few hours" Sam pulled a face as he rubbed the back of his neck, working out a sore spot with his fingertips. Dean noticed this and smirked. "Want me to pull over? Give you a neck rub?"

"Shut up, man..."

"Remind me, what're we killing this time? Dollar, doolie…what?" rolling his eyes, Sam smiled at Deans attempt to remember the monsters name, pushing a hand through his hair before resting his arm against the window.

"A Dullahan – a kind of grim reaper, from Irish folk lore."

"That's what I said." He replied in a mocking, defensive tone, hands tapping out the rhythm to the tune of the radio as they pulled off the highway. "So, we're killing a reaper…sounds like a party – any idea's so far?"

"Not yet – I haven't been able to bring much up on them. But, they are scared of gold – don't know if it actually hurts them or not though"

"Gold?" Dean looked thoughtful for a moment. "Makes a change from silver or iron I guess. I say we find some place to stay, get set up, and start working on it tomorrow – we should call Bobby, see what he can dig up tonight" Sam nodded in agreement, gesturing towards the street up ahead, not having to say anything to know that Dean would get what he was referring to. Gradually, a bar came into view, a weak light glowing above the door way. Deans face lit up with a boyish smirk.

"I don't know about you Sammy, but I suddenly feel pretty thirsty. We got time for a drink?"

"Sure" Finding somewhere to park turned out to be surprisingly easy, and Dean had no trouble easing the Impala into a space, patting the steering wheel lovingly as he pulled the keys from the ignition. A cold wind forced them to hurry inside, Sam only just catching sight of the bars name as his followed his brother through the double doors.

The place itself wasn't all that big, but its atmosphere was friendly enough. The boys only turned one or two heads as they made their way towards the bar, Dean pulling his hands out of his pockets only to motion to the bar tender, and pull up a seat alongside two other men. As he went to find his wallet, his elbow managed to hit a near-full pint of beer, knocking it clean over, its contents flooding the bar top, and subsequently, its owners lap. The man jumped to his feet, looking down at himself, hands up in irritation.

"The fuck?!"

"Woah, hey – I'm sorry, man"

"Aye, I bet you are…" getting the aging bar tenders attention once again, Dean gestured to the mess apologetically, before looking back at the guy whose drink he'd spilled. He seemed pretty pissed, though he was turned away for the moment, talking in some other language to the man on his right. After a moment, they looked back at Dean, both looking as unimpressed as was humanly possible. All he could do in response was offer a cautious smirk, and hold his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"How about I buy the next round, call it even. How's that sound?"

"The fuck're you smirkin' at? How about I tip a pint over you, see how funny you find it then?" Needless to say, the smile quickly left the hunters face. Getting to his feet, Sam joined his brothers side, putting a hand on his shoulder as he stepped in, hoping to mediate the argument with the Irishman before it got out of hand.

"Come on, he apologized, and he said he'd replace your drink. This doesn't need to go any further" There was a tense pause, before both of the strangers expressions broke into wide grins. The one covered in beer even starting laughing, apparently at the Winchesters. The boys could only glance at each other, unsure of what they'd missed.

"You should see your faces – as you were, as you were" Sam felt the tension leave his brother as he pulled his hand away. They were both smiling, albeit somewhat confused as the other two men let their amusement die down. It was around that point that Sam noticed that they were wearing identical shirts, the same make of jeans. Hell, even matching tattoos. Faceless saints etched into their necks, detailed crucifixes on their right forearms, and, upon closer inspection, words inked into their hands.

Deciding to test the water, Dean narrowed his eyes a little as he smiled, glancing at his brother before speaking.

"So…we're good?"

"Aye, no damage done. Sorry for that; I couldn't resist" Breathing a little easier, Dean slowly sat back at the bar, watching as the bar keep finished mopping up the beer. Nodding his thanks, the man took his seat, though Sam and the second stranger remained on their feet.

"The name's Connor, by the way – this is me brother, Murphy"

"Dean" Said the hunter in return, shaking the offered hand. "And this is Sam, my very own pain in the ass" Ignoring the comment, Sams smile became a little forced as he shook both the Irish brothers hands. He tried guessing which of the two of them was the older one, but that proved difficult. Murphy looked as though he was doing the same with the two of them.

"Really, though – sorry about the whole drink thing. Next one's on me, right?" fishing in his pockets for a second time, Dean retrieved his wallet, holding it up between two fingers before opening it and ordering another round.