The clock on the wall ticks by slowly. Tick. Tock. The plastic hands struggle on and on towards the eleventh hour.
Sam is sitting in a worn green armchair, with a beer in one hand and his head stuck between the pages of Revelations. Dean sits at a table, with an identical beer and an open newspaper. He glances wearily at the clock.
"Hey Sammy, I'm gonna hit the hay." he yawns.
Sam looks up from his book, and glances from his brother to the clock. "Dean...it's not even eleven."
"I'm tired, ok?" Dean says defensively. "We've got a long drive ahead of us to Ohio."
"It doesn't usually bother you..." Sam shrugs, and returns to Revelations. "Well whatever. Set the alarm for six so we can get breakfast."
Dean abandons his beer on the chipped wooden table and stretches his arms behind his head. "'Night Sammy."
Sam nods without removing his eyes from the page. Dean lands on the springy mattress, which feels unusually comfortable. His head barely hits the pillow when he eyes shut and he drifts away from reality...
Dean is roused by a salty sea breeze blowing through his prickly brown hair, and the caw of seagulls circled above in the vast blue sky. He shields his eyes from the dazzling sun and sits up on the sand. Squinting, he scans the horizon and suddenly spots a shape lying flat on the beach: a body which is all too recognisable.
"Sam?" he calls, and dashes urgently across the bumpy surface of the sand to aid his brother.
Sam's eyes are closed, but his chest rises and falls with each healthy breath.
"Sammy, wake up!" Dean says impatiently, slapping his face repeatedly, until he senses a shadow looming over his shoulder.
His head spins round and he clutches his heart to avoid a heart attack. "Holy crap, Cas!"
"Sorry to frighten you Dean." he says plainly, standing boldly with his trenchcoat flapping in the wind.
"Where are we?" Dean asks. "Is this Heaven?"
"Of course not. You know I can no longer enter the kingdom of Heaven, Dean..." Cas says. His expression hints at the pain inside of him as he looks to the floor.
"Oh...right...sorry Cas, I forgot." Dean says apologetically. "Cas, why won't Sam wake up?"
"Only I can wake him." Cas explains.
He stoops down and touches Sam gently on the forehead. Sam blinks, blinded by the sunlight, and sits up instantly.
"Dean? Cas? Where is this place?"
"I've just been asking the same question..." Dean says, eyeing Cas suspiciously. "C'mon, Cas, we want answers."
"I've brought you to the south coast of Florida. We're going on a little...journey..."
"Where?"
Cas inhales bravely. "We're going to find Lucifer."
"What?" Sam frowns. "Now?"
"I know of his current whereabouts." Cas says, a little unconvincingly. "It's time to battle."
"But what about Sam?" Dean snaps angrily. "You're leading him straight to the Devil!"
Cas sighs. "I was reluctant on bringing your brother with us. However, I figured that we would need all the help we could get. Besides: I doubt you would go anywhere without him."
Dean nods understandingly. "So c'mon: where's the Devil's Lair? Some underground cave beneath the waves?"
Cas turns on the spot and points out towards the sea. "There."
Sam and Dean step forward and squint their eyes. The sun dazzles off the crests of the waves, so the horizon is barely visible. However, upon closer examination, their eyes can just about make out the distinct shape of a ship's mast.
"What? Lucifer's riding a ship?" Sam says sceptically. "Since when was the Devil one for sailing the high seas?"
"Lucifer and his army on onboard preparing to attack." Cas explains. "We don't have much time before they strike."
"So why don't you just drop us onboard so we can sink that bastard?" Dean suggests.
"Ambush without preparation would be foolish." Cas scalds him like a schoolteacher. "We need to gather an army."
"And where are we gonna gather an army out here?" Sam asks, still sceptical of Castiel's plan.
"I know some...people..." he says secretively. "Follow me."
He leads the way across the beach further inland, his treachcoat still flapping noisily behind him. Dean and Sam exchange wary glances before following in his sandy footsteps.