10:30pm
The flickering street lamps greeted the brothers as they pulled up to the motel. The ground damp from rain. The doors to the impala squeaked as they opened and echoed as they slammed shut. The sign hanging above Dean's head read The Ambassador but half the letters didn't even light up. Same old same old. Another flee bag motel and another town where he hoped his reputation didn't proceed him. Dean watched with impatience and a bottle of whisky for comfort as Sam got them a room.
11:00pm
"Sammy. I'm going to take a walk." Dean's code for I'm going to find a drink.
The hunter soon found himself with his hands shoved in his pockets as he strolled aimlessly down main street. Glancing up and nodding to strangers who seemed much happier and living better lives than he could imagine. Up ahead he could see the flashing neon sign 'Al's Bar Open till 2'. Pulling the door open Dean was greeted by dim lights, Drunken men arguing about science and heartbreak playing through the speakers. A tune he knew all too well as he perched himself upon the bar stool. Ordering his usual a bottle of domestic beer and a shot of whiskey to go with "Nah man make it a double." Pounding down the first round the hunter orders another. Hey when it hurts this good you play it twice. Another hour goes by. The bar is clearing out but Dean is still there his head hung low gently nodding to himself as drunk conversations unfold in his mind. Glancing up he notices the pretty little blonde who smiles so sweetly. She had been watching him since he walked in. She sends him a gentle wave while he returns it with a smile.
6:30am
Turning over on his side Dean was greeted by the throbbing of his head. Punishment for another night of too much drinking. He was getting too old to keep doing this. The blonde next to him had to have been no more than twenty-two. Either they were getting younger or he was just getting older. Slowly sitting up the male reached for his scattered clothing as he pulled himself from the bed he never should have crawled into. Moving to the bathroom he splash's water on his face as he looks in the mirror with no recollection of how he got there. Grabbing his boots, he leaves the apartment before the blonde even wakes up. The walk back to the motel he felt all his shame hanging above his head. He told himself he wouldn't do it but he still did it again.
12:15pm
His body flung clean across the room making contact with the wall. Dust and old dry wall falling on top of the hunter. Gasping for the breath that was knocked out of him. "Son of a bitch.." he mumbled in agony trying to pull himself to his feet. His freshly broken ribs made it damn near impossible "Sam! Behind you!" he shouts finally getting to his feet. Lifting his arm, he covers his face as the machete Sam was swinging sliced right through the vamp's neck.
The door to the impala flung open as both men frantically searched for some sort of first aid. Those vamps put up one hell of a fight. Rummaging through weapons and take out bags from launch, Deans hands come across a half full bottle of bourbon. Using his teeth, he pulls the cork out. Leaning up against the front end of his car he just stares off silently at the afternoon sky. He was tired man. Really tired. Looking down at the bottle he was holding he shifted hands pouring the contents across his bloody knuckles. Wincing at the familiar sting. "Dean we need to go." Deans head dropped in exhaustion. "Yeah. Okay." He replied rubbing his eyes. Taking a breath, the older hunter took a long hard sip from the bottle. "Alright. Let's go." He announced happily as he could, returning to the driver's seat. Another case, another town.
1:15am
A different town, a different motel but they all looked the same. Cheap rates and the same old heartache behind each closed the door. The hunter sat quietly on the couch alone. Sam sound asleep. Dean stared blankly at the ancient black and white TV in front of him. His green eyes drifted to the bottle resting on the table. His one way ticket to sweet salvation. His only vice.