When he awoke his body ached, but in a good kind of ache, the kind of ache that one could only experience after a highly productive night before. His whole body was buzzing, from the tips of his fingers to his toes, endorphins still pumping through his veins. His eyes didn't need to adjust; the room was still dark, slivers of light shone through a set of blinds to his right. He no longer smelled the strawberries, and realized he was alone, in a tiny twin sized bed?
It seemed bigger last night…
Squinting one eye, surveying the differences he also realized he was still in his shirt, pulling up the blanket he realized his briefs were still on too, and the wound on his side was actually gone as well. He remembered last night, it definitely had happened. It had been far too vivid to be even considered to be a hallucination or a dream. Thinking, Dean sat up against the bed board, the buzz he'd awoken with was starting to ware off. So he closed his eyes, letting his mind replay the last night. He smiled faintly, letting the small smile morph into a toothy smirk.
He felt her cool breath on his neck, soft lips over his chest moving pleasurably slow, and a painful arousal as her nails dug into his shoulders and they…
He should feel dirty. Un-clean and evil, a monster himself. That had been a demon last night, but it had also been inside a helpless girl's body.
He was still trying to remember the thought process that let him so easily decide to make the deal with the bitch, why hadn't he argued or tried to kill her? He had complied too easily. But he hadn't hated it, far from it in fact, which is what scared him. He had felt liberated from his persona as Dean Winchester, he was only a feeling last night – completely engulfed.
He opened his eyes, his stomach made a rumbely noise and he realized how pathetically hungry he was. "Son of a Bitch, How long has it been since I've ate?"
He stood up, grabbing his jeans off the floor and in doing so he noticed the complete change from last night's scenery. The Carpet was green now, no longer red, there was nice furniture, a TV, and the sheets were even a different color. Scanning the room in the pensive confusion he saw a small sack, dumping it out revealing some of his clothing. He pulled a wrinkled black shirt from the pile, discarding the bloody white one into a nearby wastebasket.
When he opened the door to the outside he was greeted by a warm sun on his face and life bustling around him. He stepped out, foreign to the gay atmosphere, locking the door behind him he headed to the receptionist building, to see if he had any mail or could get any information to where he was. Which was surely NOT Saline, Nebraska.
The lady behind the desk was short and stout, like a brown haired teacup with a troll doll obsession, they littered the desk.
There are two things I will never understand people enjoying plane rides and troll dolls.
He shivered slightly by the Doll's creepish demeanor.
Through a some what annoying and drawn out conversation with the woman, she had made clear that her name was Sandy and that she wasn't named after the character in Grease but that the character had been named after her. Dean found out he'd been staying at the motel for over two weeks and that he was currently in Waldo, Florida.
Among other things than it's ironic name, Waldo was a Speed trap a straight away between two towns that made it's income by traffic tickets.
Since Waldo being as small as it was, Dean walked to the nearest Diner.
Food on his mind.
He ordered the Breakfast Lover's Combo; which consisted of a six stack of pancakes smothered in maple syrup, a side of sausage, a side of bacon, a side of hash browns, and a side of scrambled eggs – which Dean promptly order another side of eggs after finishing.
He leaned back in his chair, completely content and so full of food he may not eat again till later that night…maybe.
After paying the check with some many he'd lifted from a man's back pocket on his walk over to the Diner, he asked where the nearest phone was. Finding out it was in a store across the street, a tiny bookshop called " Case's Book mine".
Dean entered the store, practically lifeless, besides the owner who was barely visible behind a stack of books.
"Hello? Uh, Excuse me, Sir. I need a phone." Dean looked over the stack.
"We do not sell phone here."
Dean laughed a little.
Okay smart ass I think I might've figured it out, when I read the sign that said BOOKMINE.
"But you may use my phone if you wish, it's at the end of the aisle to your left, by the restrooms."
The phone dialed forever. Finally the line picked up and he was greeted by the gruff southern tinged accent. "Hello?" It asked irritatedly.
"Hello, Bobby." Dean said, he couldn't help but smile.
"Dean?! Where'd the hell'ev you been?!" He demanded.
"Well it sure as hell wasn't Kansas. Hey Bobby, you wouldn't happen to know where Sammy is, would you?"
"Hell if I do. He left two days ago to find you, that angel buddy of your stopped by and said you were in danger and sent Sam after you."
"Dammit. Well if you hear from him again tell him I'm in Florida, Place called Waldo. Can you do that for me Bobby?"
"Yeah sure," Dean started to hang up the phone. "Dean!" "Yeah?" "You sure you're alright?" Dean licked his lips and frowned a little, the space between his eyes crinkled. "Yeah Bobby, I'm fine."
Dean headed back to the front of the store and outside; on the sidewalk next to the book mine entrance was a newspaper stand. He grabbed a free paper and leafed through for some form of entertainment as he headed back to the motel, wait for a call from Sam.
"Another girl disappeared Sunday night. Authorities have yet to find any evidence to suggest abduction, all doors and windows had been locked from the inside and there was no sign of forced entry. The only anomaly in the room was a pentagram burn mark on the rug. Parents insist they have no idea how it got there.
Samantha Feldman says it's been three weeks since her daughter Toni mysteriously disappeared from her bed, under disturbingly similar circumstances…"
He stared at the article for a minute.
"Let me reiterate, Freaky shit happens in Florida…"
The article continued to smash the local authorities and later suggested alien involvement and a strange connection to a 90s television show, X-files.
When Dean got back to his motel room, he had decided not to return the key after all; he pulled out a fake ID from his bag. "Who am I today?…Special Agent Dave Evans." He laughed. Dean figured if he was going to be in town for a while, why not at least keep himself entertained. He was about to leave the room again and he stopped, his chest was pulsating. He exhaled sharply and grabbed his chest, coughed slightly and as soon as the stitch of pain came it went.
Hands rested on the backs of his shoulders, the strawberries had returned. He turned slowly toward the Blonde. She smiled up at him.
"So how're you liking the powers of darkness, Winchester?" She asked, eyes slited and a wry smile playing on her lips.
"Excuse me?"
"How else do you think you returned to full health so easily? Think of it all as an insurance policy, your health and your soul."
"Insurance for what?"
She bit her bottom lip and stared up at him seductively. He stared down into the green eyes that were mirrors of his own. That's when he felt it, something squirming in the pit of his stomach and explode, the blood in his veins pumping so fast you'd think he was doing some intense cardio. She rested her hands on either side of his neck, noses almost touching. He was hungry, so hungry it was deadly.
He was hungry less in the literal sense, but in the figurative way – his body ached for Karen's touch. It was scary how much she affected him just by her presence.
"Now Dean, Honey, Are you ready?"
"Ready for what?"
"Your Ascension."
There was a burst of bright white light, and then Dean Winchester was gone.