Dean sat in a darkened bar that was nearly empty, shooting shots like his life depended on it. It was nearly impossible to get drunk any more. His liver was completely shot.

Sam had given up saying anything about his excessive drinking, simply glad to have his brother back from hell. Dean had to admit that his love affair with alcohol had escalated since he'd been back. Despite pushing those feelings down deep, his time in the pit continued to haunt him day and night.

Castiel, the angel who raised him from perdition, claimed that there was a bigger purpose for him being risen from the dead. What in the hell did heaven want with him? It had been a question plaguing his mind for weeks on end.

Dean kept his head bent, tipping his empty shot glass side to side as he continued contemplating his entire existence.

He could sense the bartender looking at him. She had been cleaning the same spot for nearly 5 minutes as he ignored her at all costs. It was probably his disinterest that made her determined to get his attention. In a last ditch effort, she slid him another shot.

"On the house," she said in a tone that he hadn't heard from a women in weeks.

Without a word, he downed it, flipping it upside down. Dean rose his eyes to the women in her mid-twenties, lifting an eyebrow in question.

"Bad night?"

"That's an understatement," he countered.

"Well…I get off at 11." Without thinking, Dean checked his watch, realizing that it was only 10 minutes from now. Any other time, he would be hitting on her so fast that her head would be spinning. She was hot…that much was apparent.

Before marrying Skylar, he hadn't given any thought to her when he would hookup with random women. As long as he didn't become attached, what was the big deal? He hated to admit it, but he never had any intention of actually sticking to his vows after the wedding either. He was a man after all. How could he possibly stay celibate?

Over the past few weeks, they had fought and spoke seething words towards one another. They had hunted and killed (she was already improving,) and they had laughed and cried. They weren't exactly bonding on the deepest of levels, but it could be worse.

More importantly, they were annoying Sammy with their non-stop singing to the same 5 albums that he always had on repeat.

But after 3 weeks of wedded 'bliss,' Dean was faced with his first temptation. It was the first time he had been alone without Skylar or Sam on his heels. It was too easy…the way women threw themselves at him. He hadn't even said one word to her before she was ready to take off her clothes.

Dean rolled his eyes beneath his hand that was resting on his forehead. Honestly, he didn't see it as a big deal.

Of course, if he went along with this women, whose name he did not know, he would be proving Sam right. That he was a horrible husband, even though he would not be winning any words regardless any time soon.

Dean picked up his jacket and stood, jerking his head to the side for her to follow.

Skylar laid in bed, watching the bright red light of the clock move once again. 3:34…3:35…3:36…3:37. It was taunting her with every click.

Sam was snoring lightly in the bed next to her, oblivious to his brother's absence as he slept blissfully. However, before going to bed, he had given her a sad look that only made her angry. She didn't need pity, especially where Dean was involved.

In 3 weeks, this was the first time he had been gone all night. She supposed that she should be happy by this statistic, but her nerves were not eased by this reality.

4:21…4:22…4:23

What bothered her more than anything was that she wasn't sure if he was alive or dead, blacked out drunk, or with another women. No option sounded appealing. And as a pain of jealousy hit her hard, she became angry. She refused to be jealous over a man who couldn't keep it in his pants if his life depended on it.

If she let herself be overcome with jealousy, then her life would be more torturous than it had already been.

At some point, she allowed herself to drift off into a restless sleep.

Dean sauntered into the motel room at half past 7; his sunglasses shading his eyes from the blaring sun. The darkened room was a big relief to his sense. His head hurt like son-of-a bitch. He supposed that alcohol had some kind of effect on him if he was still able to get hungover and sleep like a baby.

Dean shut the door quietly, determined not to make much noise for the benefit of his own pounding head.

It didn't take him long to notice Sam roaming around the room, collecting their bags to hit the road. He ignored the accusing glare from his little brother,

He gave Sam the finger as he walked to the sink, bent over, and splashed his face with ice cold water.

He could feel bile begin to rise in his throat, but quickly swallowed it down.

"Long night?" Sam said. Dean glared at his brother through the mirror, not missing the angry gaze and crossed arms.

"You think?"

Sam shook his head, walking away before saying anything else. It was apparent that he clearly thought Dean was a lost cause and there was no reason to argue the point. Maybe he was right. He was a lost cause and everyone needed to try and stop changing the person that he was. He had always been the same, even as a teenager.

Splashing his face again, the steam of the bathroom hit him like a shot. Even the shampoo that reached his nostrils made his stomach recoil. Usually he loved the apple sent of Skylar's hair, but right now, he wanted to throw up.

He groaned audibly.

Skylar slammed the bathroom door shut intentionally. Dean winced, but said nothing. He cocked his head to the side and offered a sideways grin, turning on any charm that he had left in his body.

"Morning, Baby Girl."

"Eat me," she seethed.

"Tempting, but I feel like shit right now. Rain check?"

"I fucking hate you," she stomped away and out of the motel room before coming back inside to grab a credit card from their stack. She slammed the door shut once more, causing his brain to rattle in response.

"No you don't," he said quietly to no one in particular.