When Dean's eye finally opened, he found himself lying in a hospital bed. Disregarding the pain coursing through his body, he sat up and began to remove the IV from his arm.
"What are you doing," a nurse asked as she walked into the room, "You came in pretty beat up, it would be wise of you to lie back down, and allow the medicine to do it's job."
She walked over to the bed, gentling pushing Dean back into bed as he asked, "Where am I?"
"Aultman Hospital. The police found you lying in an alley, next to the Early Bird. Now if you'll excuse me there is an FBI agent outside who gave me strict instructions that the first thing I was to do upon your waking was to notify him." With that the woman left the room, closing the door behind her.
As soon as he was alone, Dean began removing the IV from his arm again. There was no way he was going to stick around and wait for the FBI to find him; legally he was dead, and that's the way he wanted it kept. He spotted his clothes placed on a chair in the corner, but as he tried to get up, he realized that the drugs had more of an effect on him than he thought, because he had not realized that he was handcuffed to the bed. Looking around the hospital room, the only thing within his reach was the IV needle. That'll do. He walked over to the corner and began dressing himself, body still aching regardless of the medication coursing through his veins. He looked out of the window, lucky to find that his room was on the first floor. He limped over and opened the window. Taking a deep breath, he threw a very sore leg over the threshold, and pulled the rest of his body with it. Even though he was on the first floor, there was a short drop he was not expecting. He let out a loud grunt as his body hit the ground. He was definitely suffering from some fractured ribs.
It took him over an hour to get to the house that Sam and he had been staying in. He walked up to the porch, and proceeded to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He let out a sigh, and knocked on the door, but Sam did not answer.
"Who are you?" the older man who opened the door asked, with a look of confusion and fear.
Dean was a little confused himself, "Um yeah, I'm Dean, Sam's brother," he said hoping maybe this man was someone Sam knew from his year of solo hunting that he has called to help with Chronos.
"I don't know anyone by the name of Dean, or Sam. Please get off of my property, or I will call the police," the man said as he closed and locked the door.
Dean was beyond confused. Even if his brother had left town without him, that house was beyond wrecked. There was no way anyone could have moved in so quickly, unless he was out for way longer than he thought. He picked up the newspaper on the porch to read the date. NOVEMBER FIFTH! No wonder Sam wasn't here; he had been unconscious for nearly ten months. That was when Dean's eyes caught sight of the year: 1944. "Son of a bitch," he said as he rubbed a hand across his face. First he needed to get off the man's front yard, before the police came. So, he began walking back into town.
This time he's surrounding were not hidden by his drug haze, and he notice the different clothes, the different buildings, the different cars, the different people; and that's when he realized how badly he stuck out. He found the closest motel, not having enough cash and assuming his credit cards were no good, Dean had to use his lockpick to get into a room, placing a do not disturb sign on the doorknob, before crashing onto the bed. He tried to think of anyway he could get back to the present, but the morphine finally overcame him, and he drifted off into a much needed sleep.
Dean awoke groggy, and in pain. He took a minute to stare at the ceiling and adjust to the pain, before trying to stand, and failing to do so. Being trapped in the bed really limited Dean's options. Actually it limited all of his options, except for one, and even though admitting that he was wrong was the last thing Dean wanted to do, Castiel was all he had left.
"Castiel," he said clearing his throat, "I really need your help right now. I know I was stupid, and I should have listen to you, and I'm sorry," he let out a sigh, and closed his eyes, "I promise to listen to you the next time, and I'll even let you say 'I told you so.' Just please, Cas." He wait for a couple minutes before opening his eyes to a still empty room. He waited for twenty minutes, but still no sign of Castiel.
With no more options, Dean tried once more to stand, this time succeeding. The first thing he wanted to do was take a hot shower. So, he removed his jacket and threw it onto the bed. He walked over to the mirror next to the bathroom, as he took his shirt off and proceeded to look at the bruise that spread across his torso. Chronos really did a number on him. He then removed his jeans and entered the bathroom. He turned the shower on full heat and then removed his boxers before jumping into the shower.
The hot water did a lot to soothed his aching muscles. He grabbed the tiny bottle of hotel shampoo, and lathered it into his hair before soaping up the rest of his body. He stood under the running water for a while, before finally deciding it was time to get out and try to find Chronos. He turned around to shut off the water.
"Hello," he heard a gravelly voice call out from behind him.
"Cas?" Dean turn around in shock, "What the hell? I'm in the shower!"
The other man simply replied, "Yes."
"Well get out! Go wait in the room or something!" Dean replied, and with that the angel vanished. Dean jumped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist before emerging from the bathroom. "How many conversations have we had about personal space, Cas? You can't just pop in on me while I'm in the shower."
The other man just looked up at Dean confused. He looked like Castiel, but he was dressed differently, and his hair was slicked back, unlike the tousled mess Dean was used to. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. I've never had a conversation with you," the angel finally replied.
Dean just stood there with a blank stare on his face. The thought of this not being his Castiel, from the present, had crossed his mind, but he dismissed it, because how would Castiel from 1944 be able to possess Jimmy Novak's body? Now though, it seemed like that was the only explanation, "How are you possessing Jimmy Novak? He hasn't even been born yet."
"I'm not," Castiel's monotone voice replied, "This is Robert Novak; his grandfather." So, that explained Castiel's new look, and his total ignorance of what humans considered socially acceptable. "Who are you, and how do you know me?"
Man, was that a long story, but Dean decided that it would be best to just start from the beginning.
