Where do you stick the Winchesters when you want to get rid of them and are pretty sure they wont be able to find their way back? (especially since their little slave angel Cas is not exactly doing their bidding at the moment) These were the thoughts Metatron had when plotting his next move and all it took was a snap of the fingers...

Sam woke up first...he smelled the dirt, and a camp fire not far off, sweet spring grass..he frowned...odd dream as he had been sleeping in his bed in the bunker. He sat up...this was definately *not* the bunker...it was a grassy spot in the middle of the woods. "Dean!" He hissed, poking the grumpy lump not far from him with his foot..

"Lemme lone." he growled.

"Dean wake up, we're not..." He swallowed, did he have to be cheesy? "We're not in Kansas anymore."

Dean sat up groggily, "What the hell?" Outside the tree line was an encampment of white tents, a fire in the middle with a few men in gray uniforms milling about. "Where the hell are we?" He stood up, dawn was breaking in the east and towards that way he saw what looked like a little town. They both looked down, they were still in normal clothes.

"I dont know Dean, maybe...I dont know." Sam got up and headed for the town, his intstincts telling him that was a wiser decision then the camp of grey backs who were now rising a Reb flag in the early morning sun. Dean followed him, his hand on some hidden weapon as they breached the trees...

"Ah shit." Dean groused...

"yeah...either we're outside a living history community..."
"Or we've been thrown back in time. Again. Fucking angels..I wont poop for weeks."

Sam had to smirk...flickers of his brother were still in the hardened Dean he'd seen for the past few weeks. "Lets just try to blend in so they don't kill us, k Dean?" Thankfully the soft pants they wore to bed and their white undershirts did more to blend in then their normal clothes, but they were barefoot...whoever had thrown them back had picked a shitty time.

They headed down the little bank to the back of some buildings, trying to keep out of site, looking for some house, shop anything to duck into and check out. There was a building that sat on the end of the little main street, white, square with a wrap around porch...being isolated from other buildings it was a good target, looked like a hotel but they didnt want to risk going around front yet, not with the amount of people milling about even at this early hour.

They moved to the door, both going for it at the same time and giving each other looks, "Look in the window." Sam hissed, Dean growled at him and moved, mumbling something about getting splinters,

"Its a kitchen." He hised back to his brother, "Nothing modern, theres a black woman making breakfast and I smell coffee." His stomach growled unceremoniously.

Just as Sam's hand went to knock the door opened and a redhead in nothing but a low cut shift looked up at him in shocked surprise, he expected...he didnt know what he expected but what she said wasn't it.

"We're closed, dumb ass, come back at five...and use the front door." She almost shut it on him but he put his hand out,

"Wait..wait...we're..my brother and I we...we're lost..."

She quirked a brow and looked him up and down in a appraising and rather unappreciative way, "In your under things...you're either drunk or runnin' from the army."

"Neither trust me" Sam snuffed. Dean came up behind him and gave her the ol' Dean grin...which faded fast at her quirked seen-it-all-cowboy look.

"My brother's right." He cleared his thraot, "We woke up in the woods, we think our friends mighta dumped us off, played a trick on us..we just...need some clothes."

The girl leaned against the doorframe, oddly knowing that the smell of bacon and eggs was doing more to tempt this men then her ample bosom that was defined by her crossed arms. "Really. And you think a bath-house has man clothes." Her accent had a soft Irish lilt to it.

Dean furrowed his brow, "Well...don't they?"

"Dean." Sam nudged him..

THe girl raised her brows, looking at Sam,"Is your brother of the special sort? I had a cousin like that bless his heart." She drawled, "We aint got nothin but dresses. But come in.." She sighed resignedly, "I reckon one ofus can scrounge up something for you ... can't be walkin around in your under clothes...aint seemly." She moved back into the kitchen, she was severely dwarfed by the two of them, barely topping five foot two if that. "Stay in the kitchen, " She said, "You're lucky our boss is gone fro the week...she don't take kindly to takin in strangers on work weeks."

The cook seved them up plates with out a word, with two full tin cups of hot coffee that tasted like ambrosia to Dean but was way to strong for Sam, he coughed it down anyway.

It wasnt until five other girls filed into the kitchen and around the table in varying stages of dress that the light bulb clicked on for Dean and he grinned...they were landed in a goddamn whore house. They didnt really pay much attention to either man, except the small black haired girl who *stared* at their clothes and Sam's hair.

After the meal was finished the girls filed out of the kitchen and doors were heard being shut as they went to their rooms to dress, the redhead returned, dressed in a pretty brown print, pretty respectable looking for a whore, her hair was tied back in a ribbon. "Ok, stand up let me see what to getcha...I'll go acros the street to the fancy store bought clothes." They pushed back their chairs obediently...she was authoritative, small, beautiful...Sam couldnt take his eyes off of her..she was fragile...like she didnt belong in this place.

She circled them, "Whats your names?" She nodded when they answered, her tiny hands measuring shoulders, arms, backs, Sam clenched his jaw...it had been too long and her nonsexual touch was doing Dean like things to him. "Spread 'em." She said, professionally measuring their inseams, Sam was impressed with how maturally Dean was taking this and jumped as a little girl ran into the room..

"Anna! Get out of here." The woman snapped at her, the tiny child stopped and looked up at them,

"I'm sorry Auntie Amber." She said quietly, turning to go.

Amber sighed, "Sorry..I don't know you two...and she doesnt know strangers." Her eyes didnt meet theirs but they both understood her protective tone. "Ok..you can either wait here in the kitchen with Abbie." She indicated the cook " Or you can wait in my room...like I said, we dont open for business til five but sometimes men have bath appointments in the daytime." She looked at Dean when he quirked a brow, "Real...baths...Dean. " She shook her head ith a smile.

"We'll uh...we'll wait down here.' Sam decided for them. "We don't want to intrude in your space."

Amber smiled and it was beautiful, a little sad when she looked at him, "All right then." And left with a black man to do her errands for them.

Sam cleared his throat as he sat back down on the bench, "Uh..Abbie, is it?"

"Yessir" The older woman said, still about her business.

"Could...could you tell us what year it is?" He said in a small tone, Abbie looked at him like he *was* special...

"1864 Master Sam..." She said, "You boys get hit on the head?"

"Something like that." Dean muttered...