There was someone in the room.
That much Dean knew before his brain had fully emerged from the hazy fog of sleep. He consciously fought to keep his breath at a steady rhythm while he moved his hand slowly towards the gun under his pillow. Once he had the weapon fully in his grasp, he sprang into action. In one swift and seamless motion, Dean spun around and pointed the loaded pistol at the intruder.
"Sam!" Dean shouted at the sleeping figure in the bed next to him, never moving his eyes from the silent figure in the corner.
As Sam jolted awake and began to survey the situation, Dean sprang to his feet and took a step towards the figure.
"Who are you and what do you want?" He barked.
"Hello, Dean," came a velvet voice from the shadows.
Sam snapped on the lamp on the nightstand. The figure took a step into the pool of light. She squirmed uncomfortably in her skin tight cocktail dress that barely covered the essentials and tried to smooth it down with a nervous hand.
"I can't get it to stop sounding like that," the woman spoke again, practically purring. "It just sort of... happens." She made a half-hearted apologetic shrug, and finally made eye contact with Dean.
When the heavy silence hung in the air a beat too long, the woman cocked her head slightly, and squinted curiously at Dean's face.
"Holy shit." Dean finally let out the breath he had been holding, and involuntarily let the gun drift downwards. "Cas?"
"Who else would I be?"
"But you're…" Sam started, helpfully, but then found himself at a loss for words. "...you're…"
"You're a freakin' Busty Asian Beauty!" Dean exclaimed, running a hand over his face, and letting out a strangled laugh.
"I know," Cas said through borrowed lips, "It...was not entirely intentional. I need your help."