A/N: I felt very bad about that cliffy. Very very bad. So after reading reviews I started writing a new chapter. Thanks for your reviews guys. Am I meant to PM you or acknowledge individuals? Anyway, I appreciate all reviews even if they're not positive.

Q: Originally I was going to keep this canon and not have Sam and Dean meet up but a lot of people have displayed a desire for them to have a reunion. What do you guys want? Canon or AU? Please tell me in reviews! I was thinking about making two versions.

About halfway to the doors I realised that maybe going through the main entrance might not be the smartest move. I mean, are they just gonna let a random girl into a costumer's room? Probably not. Also, I had no idead what kind oof situation Dean had gotten himself into. I felt my frustration grow at the wasted time as I located the fire exit. I touched the decaying wooden door next to a faded fire exit sign and it swung open with little resistance to my relief.

I found myself in a dimly light corridor with mustard coloured walls riddled damp. The carpet was a questionable grey-ish colour and there was a strong smell of mould and generally uncleanliness. Yuck. After a little hesitation, (don't judge, disgusting corridors are usually on my list of places to avoid) I speed walked down it whilst making sure to look at the door numbers while keeping my eyes off the stained walls. Finally, I got to 43.

With a slight grimace at the slight of the door that was covered in a thick layer of grime, I knocked. "Dean? It's Jess."

I heard sounds of life from the other side of the door. Muffled foot prints got steadily louder until there was the jangling of someone unlocking the door reached my ears. The door edged opened, inch by inch, until I could slip into the room.

The first thing I became aware of was the gun pointed at me. No, I can't name it or the type or whatever but I do not like guns. Remember? It kinda took me awhile to get over the gun thing enough to notice the man who held it. He looked a long way away from the happy photograph from Sam's wallet. "Dean?"

The man raised half is mouth in a very tired smirk. His face was glazed with sweat and honestly, he looked like he was about to collapse. "Good to see you, sweetheart."

I suddenly realised I had to come to a motel room of a strange man I knew next to nothing about without telling anyone where I was going. Really smart, Jess. "Um, Dean? Would you mind putting the gun down?" Oh, why did my voice have to shake?

He blinked and looked slightly confused. "Sure." Dean chucked the gun into a sagging couch that I wouldn't touch if my life depended on it and then proceeded to relock the motel door.

It was at this point that I noticed the odd, metallic smell. I frowned, unable to recall what it was. Dean lost his balance and, automatically, I reached out to steady him. His shirt felt damp to the touch. I looked at my hand in confusion. It was painted in a crimson liquid. I realised Dean's shirt wasn't red. It was soaked in blood. I gasped in horror and my reflexes made me snatch back my hand. Dean crashed to the floor.

After standing frozen in panic for way too long I managed to lug Dean to the bed covered in suspicious stains (at this point I wasn't too fussed). I almost fainted in relief when he returned to consciousness. "Jess?" He blinked in bewilderment.

"Dean, I've got to call an ambulance." I felt way, way out my depth.

"NO!" There was no doubting the command in the statement. "No hospital." He said more calmly but there was no mistaking his conviction.

"Dean, I don't know what to do. There's so much blood and your wounded and-" I rambled frantically.

"Jess." Dean stared at me calmly. "I've had worse. We can deal with this."

"NO WE CAN'T!" I screeched. "How the hell are we meant to deal with this?"

Dean grabbed my arm and looked me dead in the eye. "How's your stitching?"

TBC… (sorry. Again)