Dean woke up in a bed. Strange, he didn't remember falling asleep in a bed. Wait, where was he? He sat up straight in alarm and scanned his surroundings. It was the guest bedroom at Bobby's. When had he gotten to Bobby's? Why were they here? Was something wrong? Dean groaned. He was barely awake and already he was giving himself a headache. He decided he would get up and go find Sam, wherever jumbo the giant was. Dean chuckled to himself. Jumbo the giant, what a fitting name for Sam.
Ambling down the stairs into Bobby's living room was harder than he thought it should be. Had he been drinking the night before? His head sure felt like he had. The room had a slight lean to it. He'd definitely been drinking. Hearing voices as he was about to turn the corner into the living room Dean stopped to see what they were saying.
"Something is seriously wrong. He spouting nonsense, screaming to make a man stop hurting him. We were alone Bobby. Nothing was wrong with him. Aside from the blood leaking out his eyes and ears." He heard a muffled thud, something being lain on a table. "All I'm saying is that we shouldn't jump to conclusions. We don't want to scare him Sam, that wont help at all." Dean had a sneaking suspicion they were talking about him. He cleared his throat and entered the room quickly, not wanting to hear any further.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Bobby's voice was unregretful. He had no shame in what he's said before. "I'm fine Bobby. What the hell is all this talk about? And what the hell happened yesterday? I can't remember a damned thing." Sam and Bobby gave each other shocked looks. "Well you called Sam and told him you thought something was wrong. He gets there and your bleeding out the eyes and muttered some nonsense about things that weren't there." Dean scowled. "HaHa very funny. What really happened?" Sam cleared his throat. "That's what happened Dean. You scared the shit outta me."
Okay, what? He didn't remember any of what they were saying. What the hell had he told them yesterday? What had been wrong with him? "You did say something that made sense. When we were on the phone anyway." Oh no, Dean didn't like that tone of voice. "What's I say?" "You said Castiel was gone for a while. Dean where the hell did he go?" Oh no, not this. Why say anything about it. Cas was coming home soon. Dean knew it. "He had to go upside for a while. Paper or something I think. I don't know when he'll be back." What was the point in not lying? They'd just tell him Cas was never coming home. Ha, they didn't know anything.
"Well he needs to hurry up and come back. We sure could use his help right about now. We need to know what's wrong with you." Dean frowned at Sam's word choice. "Nothing is fucking wrong with me Sam. I'm fucking fine." Sam cringed. "I didn't mean it like that Dean. Look, obviously something happened yesterday. We need to figure out what it was so it doesn't happen again." Sam voice was calm and slow, he was thinking carefully about every word before he said it. Asshole. "Sam's right. Dean what exactly do you remember?" What did he remember? Dean sat on the couch and thought hard.
"I remember waking up." Slowly it was coming. Fuzzy and unfocused, everything was blurry. "I showered and ate. Then, I was walking out of the kitchen, there was this pain. It felt like an axe in my head, being hit a truck, and a knife being twisted in my brain all at once. After that I remember hitting the floor, and. . ." Ouch. He hit something, almost like a wall in his head. "Then nothing. It's blank after that." Bobby sighed. "That doesn't do us much good. We could play out a hundred scenarios with that information. We need more." Dean sighed and thought harder. It hurt. There was nothing he could remember. He could feel it though, the memories he needed. They were just out of his reach, and still completely black to him.
"It's no use, I got nothing." Damn it. What the hell had happened? "Dean just keep thinking. I'm going to pour myself some coffee. Want some?" Dean put a hand on his head in concentration. "Sure, thanks Sam." The shower, breakfast, the floor, then. . . . .black. Empty. Why the fuck was it empty? He slammed his fist on Bobby's table. This was so fucking frustrating. "Here." The hot cup felt good in his hands. He was cold. That's strange. Why was he so cold. Sipping the coffee to warm himself Dean struggled with his blocked memories. Something was definitely up with him, and it was aggravating.
Dean wrapped his coat around himself. Damn it was cold. "Bobby, you got the heater on?" Bobby nodded. "Dean, what's wrong?" There was that fucking voice again. "Nothing Sammy, just a little cold is all." Boom. Boom. Boom. His head was pounding. "I think I'm gonna go lay down though. My head's killing me." "Yeah, okay Dean." When did his back get so stiff? It was like having a board tied to his back. The bed was a welcome relief. The springs helped to uncoil his knotted back muscles. A strange feeling floated through his body. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was though.
Fifteen minutes of concentration later all Dean had accomplished was giving himself an even bigger headache. The feeling was still there, and it still alluded him as best it could. Trying to grab on to it was making him tired, but not in the way that would allow sleep. His stomach rumbled and Dean realized he hadn't eaten in nearly twenty four hours. Damn, what the hell was he thinking?
Bobby is looking at him like he's a bomb about to go off when he enters the kitchen. "I'm hungry." He explained on compulsion. Bobby nodded and exited the kitchen quietly, trying to avoid Dean for some unfathomable reason. What did they think? Where they expecting him to snap and try to kill them or something? He'd done nothing wrong. What had he said to Sam that they weren't telling him?