The 67' Impala crawled into the parking lot of Heaven's Sake Inn and shuddered until finally pulling into a parking spot. The glossy black paint job was marred by layers of dirt and the windshield littered with bugs.
Dean killed the engine. He stared at the steering wheel for a moment before sliding his keys into the pocket of his jacket. He will himself to open the car door, glaring at the autumn sky as he did. The amber hue seemed almost beautiful. He spat, disgusted.
"I'll wash you soon, Baby," he said, patting the roof of the Impala gently before shutting the car door.
Digging through his other pocket, Dean managed to locate his room key before heading to his room. He didn't allow himself to sigh until the door was shut behind him and the small chain in place. Not that it would stop anyone. Still, the chain symbolized safety and thus held an aspect of comfort.
Dean immediately shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair. He scanned the room. His movement paused when he saw the bottle. Eagle Rare. Much better than usual. Then again, he hadn't been the one to buy it.
As Dean approached the bottle, he could hear the sound of the shower. He was tempted to hop in the shower, too, but whiskey called to him more than the idea of hot water on his aching body.
Grabbing a plastic cup, he removed the wrapper and served himself a healthy pour. When the caramel liquid touched his lips and slid over his tongue, Dean finally admitted a sigh. He allowed his eyes to close as he took another sip.
"Heya, Handsome."
A faint smile crossed his lips, and he swallowed. His eyes remained closed as she neared him, her hands found his chest from behind. The touch was affectionate, familiar.
"Heya, Jo," he whispered, relaxing into her touch.
"Any luck?" she asked.
Dean shook his head. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the dresser and bowing his head.
"I was sure he'd be here," Dean muttered.
"Hey," Jo said softly.
Dean turned his head toward her.
"We'll find him," she continued.
"Yeah?" Dean replied. "And what will we do then? Lucifer ain't exactly keen on giving up Sammy and using a different meat suit."
Dean tipped back the rest of his whiskey.
"I should of said yes," he grumbled.
"And what good would that have done?" Jo countered. "So you would be in the cage instead of Adam?"
"If I had said yes," Dean said, pouring more whiskey. "Michael might have won. If he had won, then the Apocalypse wouldn't have happened and we wouldn't be in this mess."
"And Sam would be in the cage," Jo reprimanded.
Dean looked as if he was about to say something but thought better of it and took a sip of whiskey instead. Jo continued.
"And you'd be hunting for a way to get him out, and you'd be just as miserable as you are right now."
Dean winced.
"I'm sorry," Jo sighed.
Dean shrugged. "You're probably right."
He grabbed the other plastic cup and poured another whiskey. He held out the cup to Jo. She took it and allowed Dean to "top off" his own cup. He held up his whiskey toward her.
"To being misery's company," Dean said, smiling.
"Is that your way of saying you love me?" Jo smirked.
Dean held his silence, shrugging before downing his whiskey. Jo followed suit. Then, placing his cup on the counter, Dean dug in the mini fridge for a bottle of beer. Jo quirked her eyebrow at him.
"What? You would deny a man his shower beer?"
"I didn't say anything," Jo answered.
He twisted the top off the bottle before disappearing into the small bathroom.
The shower was heavenly. Dean rolled his shoulders under the hot water and moved his neck from side to side.
He took his time, wracking his brain for some new idea or angle. Nothing was impossible. They always found a way—there had to be a way. Dean sighed and reached for his beer.
Twenty minutes and a full beer later, Dean exited the shower physically clean but mentally frustrated. No epiphanies. Only the same fruitless ideas.
His thoughts were interrupted by his growling stomach. Quickly drying off, Dean wrapped the towel around his waist before exiting the bathroom.
"Jo, you hungry? I think I saw a roadhouse that was still..."
Dean looked up to see a familiar serious face and baby blue eyes staring into his.
"Hello, Dean."
Dean readjusted his towel, ensuring it was secure. He looked at Jo, searching for some explanation.
"I could eat," Jo said, ignoring Dean's obvious discomfort. "How about you, Angel boy?"
Castiel's brow furrowed. "I do not . . . eat." The angel returned his attention to Dean. "I have news."
"About Sam?" Dean asked, failing to mask the glimmer of hope in his voice.
Castiel shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dean."
"It was a long shot, I know."
Castiel hesitated, determining if it was worth asking what Dean meant by a long shot. He determined it was not worth it.
"I found a way to open the cage."