Dean fell back into consciousness to the feeling of someone running a hand through his hair. He couldn't open his eyes, finding them too heavy, as though they were glued together. He couldn't remember what had happened to him. He didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten there. But he was in a bed. That much he could tell.

Internally, he groaned. If this was another motel room with another hangover he was just about done with everything. He couldn't take it again. It was becoming a far too familiar feeling to him. As he shifted, he became much more aware of his surroundings, and he felt how scratchy the sheets draped over him were against the bare skin of his forearms. He could hear the faint beeping of machines, and then there was that signature scent of disinfectant that gave away exactly where he was. Even without opening his eyes, Dean already knew what he was going to see in that room.

But there was still the feeling of the hand pressed gently to the side of his face. He could feel someone sitting on the bed next to him, he could sense them watching him closely, but he didn't know who it could be. It was different. He had never woken up to that before. Usually, it was just Sam sitting in the plastic chair beside his bed with a frown on his face, ready to chastise him for how he had gotten himself put there. But he knew that it wasn't him. Whoever it was traced their thumb over his cheek, over and over, almost willing him back to sleep. Sam knew better, because the day Dean Winchester woke up to his brother perched on the edge of his bed stroking his face was the day he would be giving him a black eye. The hand was too small, too soft to belong to his brother. Someone was in that room with him. Someone he didn't know.

Curious, and finding a little more strength, Dean managed to crack open his eyes. His sight was blurred, almost as though he was looking at the world through someone else's glasses. He could barely see anything at all. He could make out the very brief outline of the girl sitting before him, and a thought crossed his mind, were nurses supposed to get that close to their patients? Even if they were as good looking as he was. He snickered in his head at his own joke and blinked hard in an attempt to steady his vision. Whoever it was wore hospital scrubs, their blonde hair pulled back from the face he just couldn't make out. But he could see the white ID badge clipped to their front, and make out how their face was furrowed to a soft frown.

"Hey," A voice spoke, sounding to be miles away from him. "Can you hear me, Dean?"

And then he knew, he recognised that voice. He had heard it too many times not to.

"Ashley?" he murmured, unsure of how it could be her, but there was no mistaking it. He could hear the smile in her words as she spoke to him. He could almost see it on her face as things became clearer around him. "Ash?" he tried again, not sure that she had heard him the first time. He wasn't sure that he had even spoken. But his voice was firmer, a little more confident. "What's going on?" he asked, making an attempt to move, but finding the pain that shot through his middle too much. "Where the hell am I?"

Everything came into focus as he looked to her. The blurriness faded and things became clear to him. "You don't remember?" she pressed softly. The hand that had been rested to his cheek moved down to hold his forearm, squeezing softly as though to remind him that she was there. "You're in the hospital, dummy."

Dean gave a short nod. His head pounded, but the way she spoke seemed to soothe him. Truth was, he didn't remember anything at all. He didn't know how he had gotten there. "What happened?" he asked her, his voice gruff. He wasn't at all with it. It had to be whatever pain meds they had given him. That was all he could put it down to.

The soft frown returned to her face, but the smile didn't fade. "Uh, Sammy called me. He said you were in an accident, that he'd found you somewhere and you were both on your way to hospital." That didn't sound right to him. Where was Sam? Why was he with Ashley? Sam was the hunter who was supposed to be beside him, Ashley was the nurse who was supposed to be off somewhere living her normal life. "Sam didn't know what had happened to you, either." she said, her voice cautious, as though she was unsure how he would react. "You were, uh, passed out, covered in blood, on the street behind some bar in town. We don't know how you got there, or what happened, but you're pretty beaten up." The look on her face softened. "We were hoping you'd know something."

"Sammy." Dean said, his tone urgent, as though that was the only word he had taken from her explanation. The rest he could deal with later, if something had landed him in a hospital, where was his brother? "Wait," His face changed as he tried to think back. His eyes rose to hers, the fear showing itself clearly. "What happened to Sam?" He couldn't remember the last time he had even seen his brother, he couldn't remember much of anything.

Almost like she could see his brain beginning to work overtime, she rested a firm hand to his shoulder. "Hey, calm down." she spoke softly, the way she had been trained to do, keeping him right there with her. "Sam's fine, everyone's fine. Don't worry, Dean. You're both safe."

"Wh—" And then he stopped himself and frowned up at her. "Wait," Something wasn't right. How long had been out if his sister had been able to get there before he woke up? How fast had she rushed to him to still be wearing her uniform? What the hell had happened? "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Ashley told him, looking down at him as though she was starting to worry he had hit his head on something. "You know that."

"You work in Kansas." he stated, and when all she did was stare at him, utterly confused, it clicked. "I'm in Kansas?" Now he knew, something really was wrong there. Something didn't add up. Why would he be anywhere near Kansas? He rarely took hunts so close to where his sister lived. Mainly because he just didn't want her to be anywhere near that life again. He couldn't think for a second why he would have been there, especially passed out behind a bar. He just couldn't seem to pull the information to the front of his mind. But he shook the thoughts from his head and looked back to her. "Are you working?" A small smile crept up on his face. "Are you my nurse? Can you slip me extra morphine?"

"No," Ashley huffed a laugh, shaking her head at him. "I'm not your nurse, Dean. I finished my shift at six."

Dean glanced over at the clock on the wall and narrowed his eyes at the time. "It's almost eleven." He had figured it had to be late, the room was dim, with the only source of light coming from the lamp on the side table. The blinds were closed over the window and the corridor outside sounded void of life. Everything was silent. But he knew the hours his sister worked, a lot of the time her shifts were twelve hours. He could see it in her face, she was exhausted. "Ash, you didn't have to stay." he said quietly, somewhat guilty.

"Don't worry about it." she said, her voice genuine, and he was sure that she meant what she said. He always was.

He opened his mouth to answer her, but something else caught his eye, and he cracked a smile. "What's with that?" he asked, nodding over at the blue balloon floating in the corner of the room, reading Get Well Soon in large letters across the middle. "You been using your job privileges to raid the gift shop or something?"

Ashley laughed at him, shaking her head. "That's from Luke." Dean quirked a brow at her, as though he was supposed to know who she was talking about. "Said he wasn't coming up here to see his uncle Dean without it."

Dean's entire stance dropped as those words left her mouth. "Hold up," He opened and closed his mouth, because what the hell was he supposed to say to that? What was happening? "Who's Luke?"

"Wow." She commented, raising her eyebrows at him. "You are out of it." She nodded to the chair in the corner of the room, and Dean craned his neck to see what she was looking at. Sitting in the chair was Sam, sleeping there soundly. On his knee was a small boy, he guessed couldn't be older than five, wrapped up in one of Sam's hoodies and sleeping with his face buried in his uncle's chest. His eyes were wide at the sight, because, as far as he had known, his single, childless sister, had been alone in that town. When the hell had the kid come into it? And since when was Sam comfortable enough with it to have him cuddled up in his arms? "I was leaving work when Sam called me, he said you were on your way here. He was watching Luke for me when the found you. They've been asleep for about an hour now. You know how Luke tires him out."

Dean stared at her, his eyes wide in shock. What was going on? His sister didn't have a kid, and Sam didn't babysit for her. Was he supposed to buy into the story his brother had been watching a kid that didn't exist when he had just stumbled onto him passed out at a bar in Kansas, when he was pretty sure they had been nowhere near there? Ashley looked back to him, and he saw her face drop at the sight of him. "Hey," She spoke gently, but he heard the concern. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Dean swallowed, hard. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? "Uh, y—yeah. I'm fine." He shook his head, composing himself. "I just—I mean—you didn't need to hang here all this time. I appreciate it."

"Yeah," she smiled warmly. "Of course."

Ashley leaned down and wrapped her arms around him gently, so not to disturb his injuries, and rested her head to his shoulder. Dean held her a little closer, as if to remind himself that she was really there, and he felt her smile to herself against his shoulder. But, as she smiled, she completely missed how his faded. The moment her eyes had left him the smile dropped entirely, his face changed to one of fear, concern, anxiousness. Because he didn't know what was happening to him. He had to be dreaming. Or high on his meds. Kids didn't just appear out of thin air. And that was when something else caught his eye, and he felt like he could throw up at the sight. Right there on her left hand, wrapped around her finger, were two rings. And, for Sam to know about it, he knew something was going on there.

He had to get himself out of there and figure it all out, before it was too late.