It's the third week since Sam - 22days3hours4minutes46seconds - has gone off to Stanford, and Dean hasn't been able to sleep - thinkmoveSammy - for more than a couple of hours of it. He blames it on the fact that, apparently, he didn't teach his kid brother enough manners as to warn a person - whyWhyWHY - before heading off. Off to Stanford, where they taught fuck-knows-what - probably freaking pansy classes How to Sip Your Tea and How to be Properly Condescending and Frolicking Through The Flowers - How to Shred Your Family Into Confetti 101.
He was absolutely not staring at his cell, waiting for - pleasecallSammy - it to ring. He was not wondering if Sam was thinking of him at the same time. He was most definitely not contemplating traveling to California to kidnap his little brother - 22days4hours2minutes17seconds.
When he feels water on his face, he blame the leaky motel room roof.