Now I know that the name Oopa Creek sounds like a small town, but in reality it wasn't. It was a big city! A bustling place where the lives of people collided and meshed together.

It was just 90's minutes south of LA, but how no one ever noticed it is beyond me.

The Impala stepped out outside of yet another tacky Hotel, this one being Christmas themed. Dean groaned as Sam checked him up. They later unpacked their things in their hotel room. Dean opened a beer he'd had liberated from the mini-fridge. It didn't matter to him that he'd get charged more, after all it's not like Gene Hunt would ever get his credit card bill. He flopped on the bed, while Sam set up his laptop.

"Hey Sammy, does it ever seem to you that we stay in the same hotel room but with different paint jobs? Because I swear I'm getting déjà vu."

Sam grunted softly, and then opened his precious laptop. The newspage had updated from the earlier night. It now read:

Mysterious shooting at junkyard!

Sam looked at Dean, almost apologetically, but he really didn't because he's Sam. "C'mon, I've got a lead."

Dean threw back the rest of his beer and tossed it behind him. It hit a picture frame and twisted it slightly.

They were now at the junkyard. Police were swarming all around. Sam and Dean got in the police ring though, because they're main characters. The main attraction was… a dead body. What? DEAD BODIES ON SUPERNATURAL? Yeah, so original. The man was clad in a bright red suit, and he was sitting on a couch, looking fucking badass. His hair was blond, and pulled up. Yeah, you heard me. Straight up. And then it twisted into a lightning bolt. But he was dead, without a doubt. Completely dead. Dead as a doornail. Kicked the bucket. Bought the farm. Bit the bullet. Bereft of life. Taking a permanent vacation. You get the idea. But…. There was no wound. He was smiling. Dead men don't smile. Because they're dead. But he was smiling, and there was no wound. It was literally as though he was sleeping. There was a blue-skinned doctor in front of the body, examining it. No, not THE Doctor. This isn't a Superwho crossover, get your head out of the clouds. The doctor stood up and turned to the police.

"Well?" Dean asked, on pins and needles.

The doctor scratched his head with his stethoscope.

"Well he's definitely dead."

There was a collective groan among everyone in the circle, and slowly all of the police drones filtered away. Except for Sam and Dean. Sam walked forward. "Um Doctor…" he looked down at the name tag. "Doctor Randy, I'm just wondering. May Seth and I examine the body?" Dean looked up at the sound of his alias. This time he was Seth Green and Sam was Matthew Senreich. The Doctor put a hand on his chin, and cast a worried look at the body. Then he signed and held up 10 fingers. "This many minutes."

Sam smiled. "Thank you."

The doctor walked off, and they crowded around the body. Dean snickered and motioned to the man's hair. "How much hair gel do you think this guy uses?" Sam ignored him, and quietly pushed aside the red jacket the man wore with the eraser of his pencil. He cocked his head. "What's this?" he reached inside and pulled out a note. Dean put a hand on the dead mans shoulder. The man slumped and fell off the couch, face contacting with the ground. Dean jumped back.

"Woah. Sammy we better go."

Sam looked up, and bitchfaced. "Deeeean…."

Dean shrugged, and then he and Sammy quickly jetting back to the Impala. They drove and drove, and then, as they were waiting at a red light, Sam remembered the note. He pulled it out and examined it. It read as follows:

The Chicken Kitchen 10 AM

Dean noticed his brother messing with it.

"What'cha got there Sammy?"

Sam looked up. "Oh, I found this on the body. It looks like a note for a rendezvous at the Chicken Kitchen at 10."

The light turned green, and Dean drove forward. Then, he noticed a sign indicating the Chicken Kitchen's location.

"Sammy, I think I know what we're gunna do."