Betty, Where did you go?

The Dim Light of Day

By Tsia

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural except my love for the Pretty.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

He had a strange feeling of wrongness, a feeling that started in the first stages of waking. His consciousness was telling him that he should not be. Nothing more, just 'I should not be.' During the second stages, he felt. Aches blossomed all over his body. Not sharp newly formed pains, but dull aches that echoed old injuries. Opening his eyes at the final stage of waking he saw, completing the package of wrongness. 'Room: home? motel? Where am I?' his mind drifted through the possibilities. The full size bed he was in was bathed in amber light streaming in from the open window along with the warm summer breeze. 'This is wrong,' he thought, 'I don't leave windows open.' Yet it reminded him of a place he had stayed once with his family.

"My family," he gasped and his heart skipped a beat. He remembered traveling to, from, or with his family. 'Where are they?' He looked wildly around, but his panic was interrupted by the door to his left opening. He stilled himself watching as a person entered, 'Who are you? Do I know you? Watch, listen, learn.' Through slitted eyelids he saw that it was a woman; she moved to the window across from him and adjusted the curtains. She was nondescript with long, brown hair hanging in a loose braid down her back, wearing jeans and a green t-shirt. She was of average height and plain features, somewhere between 25 and 35 years old, he could not pin it down. She stepped over to the night stand next to the bed and flicked on the lamp.

"Ah, you're awake, good," she said in a matter of fact tone giving him an amused little smile. "I was wondering when you would come around," she said it as if she did this everyday. Just stating the obvious, but with vague emotions floating in the background. She went to the corner by the door and brought something to the bed. "If you should want to get up, use this," she indicated an aluminum walker. "It will help. I put your cleaned clothes in the dresser," pointing next to the window. "I salvaged all that I could." She had a strange twinkle in her eyes. 'Was that amusement or something else?' the man could not decide. Turning to leave she stopped when she reached the door, "Oh, you're going to need another duffle." With that she left, closing the door behind her.

The man stared after the woman replaying the conversation, if you could call it that, in his head. He decided that she was not a threat, at least not yet. 'Strange,' was the word he came up with first to describe her then, 'nice, I think.' Carefully he sat up and threw back the sheet that had covered him. It was then he noticed he was completely naked. Looking back to the door to make sure it was closed, he thought, 'What is going on here? What the hell did she do?!' He moved his legs off the bed and took advantage of the walker when he begrudgingly accepted that he did need the help. Concentrating carefully, it took him nearly ten minutes to make the five foot trek to the dresser. Looking through the drawers, he pondered, 'How does she know these clothes are mine? What duffel is she talking about? Suitcases are what people carry clothes around in.' He found two pairs of jeans, one pair of black slacks, three t-shirts, one red, long sleeved button shirt, three pairs of underwear, and three pairs of socks. Picking up the red shirt he fingered the material as if trying to remember something then put it down in favor of the navy t-shirt that had a greyhound on the front, 'I like dogs.' Putting it on he found that it was a good fit along with the underwear and socks, 'these could be mine,' but the pants gave him pause. Checking each pair he found that they were all the same size, and thought, 'I don't think these are mine, unless I like them loose.' Shrugging he pulled on a pair of jeans then used the belt he found on the bed post to keep them from falling down. 'These are not my pants, none of them can be. But if they were found with me... wait, my dad?' he had a strong feeling about his dad but could not grasp it. Looking down he stared at his feet, "Shit, I look like a dork," chuckling at himself. The jeans were 3" too short, so he pushed the jeans down as far on his hips as he felt comfortable.

He was feeling dizzy from all the activity. So he sat on the bed for a moment to gather his thoughts. 'Okay, first things first, where am I, then who is that woman and... hmm what was that other...' his thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled. Looking around the room again he pondered, 'Is she a hermit wanting companionship or a deranged fan wanting me to write ... wait wasn't that a movie? Shit, I need some answers and some shoes.' He rubbed his face in weariness, the activity had also wore him out. 'And a shave, where is the bathroom?' He had stubble that made his face itch now that he focused on it, 'And I have to go.' More feelings came with wakefulness. With one last look that did not produce any shoes, he ventured in socked feet for the door.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111