Sam looks at Dean a moment "Yeah . . . I don't know what I was thinking . . . who'd give you their number anyways?" smirks and laughs
Dean: scowls "Just because I don't sleep with every girl I meet, doesn't mean I couldn't get one if I wanted to . . ."
Sam: "Sure, sure Dean . . . hold onto that dream . . ."
Dean:"Whatever . . . you're such a jerk . . ."
Sam: "bitch . . . "
After Breakfast
Dean and Sam are leaning against the Impala, looking at a map, deciding which direction to drive, when Dean's phone beeps to tell him he has a voice mail. Dean picks up his phone and dials his voicemail box, listening to his message. His face becomes shadowed with confusion and he looks over at Sam
Sam: "What?"
Dean: "Did you use my name last time we were at a bar?"
Sam: "Why would I use your name?"
Dean: "I don't know! But I've got this weird message from some girl named Kirsten . . . "
Sam: "Let me listen . . . " takes the phone from Dean.
As Sam listens to the message, Dean shoves his hands in his pocket and leans back against the impala. Realizing there's something in his pocket, he pulls it out, revealing another bar napkin, with yet another phone number on it . . . "uh-oh . . ."
Sam: looking back over at Dean "What?"
Dean: "uh . . . hand me my phone back . . . "
Sam hands him the phone, and Dean dials the number on the napkin. A voice on the other end answers
Dean: "Yeah, hi, this is Dean . . . is Naomi there? . . . . . . . Yeah . . . uh, me too . . . but I was uh . . . just wondering, I can't find one of my jackets, what wasI wearing the other night? . . . . . . . . . Oh, my black leather jacket? No, that's not the one . . . I've still got that one . . . . . . . . . . . Ok, well uh . . . thanks anyways . . . . . . . . . . . No, yeah, I'll definitely give you a call soon . . . we'll hang out . . . . . . . . . . . Ok then . . . . Buh-bye."hangs up and looks at Sam
Sam: "Well?"
Dean: "Apparently it was really me . . . god, I just can't believe I'd do something like that!"
Sam: grins "You make me proud Dean . . . "
Dean: "But it's just not . . . not . . . AHHHHHH!" Dean collapses to the ground, pain searing through his head. Dean clutches at his head, trying to make it all go away . . . but it only gets stronger . . . suddenly, a vision flashes before his eyes . . . but it was of the past . . . the night Jess died . . . Sam laying in bed . . . the fire all around . . . Jess pinned to the ceiling . . . Dean could feel every lick of flame . . . hear Jessica's last breath . . . he could feel every ounce of Sam's terror . . . then, as suddenly as it had started, the vision vanished . . . leaving Dean crumpled up on the ground next to his Impala.
After taking a moment to gather his wits, Dean slowly looked up at Sam, who had dropped to his knees beside Dean, worry displayed over his entire face
Dean: "Sam . . . we've got a problem . . . "