All it had taken was the time need to blink and he was standing on a cracked sidewalk, Meg at his side and the Impala nowhere to be seen. If he had thought Crowley had the kind of balls or time to do something like this, Dean would have been slightly more furious than he already was. They had been taking all the precautions to hide from Crowley up to this point, and he doubted the self-made King of Hell really had the resources to find them with the way he over extended himself. All he knew was that if his car was totalled in a ditch somewhere, someone was going to taste their own blood.
Dean couldn't help but think, though, that this didn't have that pointless dramatic flair Crowley was so fond of. It was bland by comparison, and if Crowley had located them, he wouldn't bother to play with them like this. Dean had been one of his go to's to deal with "deserters" as Crowley called them, the Lucifer Loyalists that that been smart enough to not return to Hell after his fall. Crowley's policy for the deserters was to torture the ones that had information and kill the ones that didn't. Dean had been a neutral party between Crowley and Lucifer, and though he had the common sense to know to appeal to the winning side, he couldn't stand Crowley, and if Lucifer hadn't wanted Sam, Dean would have no problem ripping the crossroads demon's soul in half just for the catharsis it would bring him. Crowley's voice didn't ring out, grating and pompous, and that was the only good part of this.
Without the car, they had nothing but what they were wearing, and Dean had to admit, he almost felt naked without some weapon. His powers were there and he could rely on them, but he preferred not to. He loved cutting into his victims; it was so much more personal, he could find all their weak spots and carve into them. His powers took all of that out of it, and it was decidedly less fun. Meg was here though, and though neither of them were armed, together they were more than enough for any of the things that could come after them. He'd learned in their surprisingly short time together that they worked well as a team. Dean hadn't been a team player in centuries, operating -mostly- under his own autonomy except for when he took orders, but with Meg, with their similar training, they fell into step a lot quicker than he would have thought possible. It reminded him of how well he and his brother had worked once, but Dean had thought he'd buried the only person he could click with like that.
"What doesn't seem unsettling?" His eyes darted around the area, turning in a circle counter to the direction Meg moved, ensuring their backs were never exposed. The area was abandoned, the buildings all showing their age, but there was nothing else. And that was what bothered him. He couldn't see anything that would seem out of place in a typical slum, no sigils, no sign of what could have summoned them. Dean studied the area, picking apart every little movement, but again and again, was coming up empty.
He nodded, though she wasn't looking, and moved forward, fingers subtly itching for a blade or a gun, all the things he didn't have. "I hope they won't be disappointed we didn't wait," he commented, voice flat as he continued to survey the area, watching for any and everything. Dean loved a good fight, but being pulled here without any of their resources and by something with enough juice to pull that off, he was going to hedge his bets and side with Meg's instincts, which he trusted more often than not.