Dean felt like he wasn't able to move for a good five minutes and when he finally managed to, he found his body was numb and stiff. How could Cass be possessed? He was an angel!
That was just it. He was an angel. He had becoming more human by the day. Maybe he finally crossed the line.
"Shit…" Dean murmured to himself, seeing to just realize he let Castiel get away that easily. He repeated himself after discovering that his gun would have no effect on the possessed angel. "Okay. You can do this. You've handled demons before."
Sure, Dean's handled demons with Sam. And at no time were those demons controlling his best friend who just happened to be a fallen angel. Yeah, he was in trouble now.
Pushing these thoughts aside, Dean grabbed the wheel of the stolen car and slammed on the petal. He had no idea where he was going, just forward. Cass was sure to surface as some point. Demons are ones to stay hidden for long. It was only a matter of time. Dean just had to keep reminding himself to hang in there.
Dean drove until late afternoon. Until he feared he'd have a panic attack and crash the car if he didn't stop soon. He pulled into another old, cheap hotel. He paid for the room and collapsed on the bed the moment he entered. The hunter wasn't tired though despite his desire to sleep. He just wanted to be out of this world for an hour or slow.
Twenty minutes of lying flatly on the bed prove the fact that he wouldn't be sleeping right now. Fine, he would start drinking early today. Shoving his one gun into his coat pocket, Dean left his room and walked the short distance to town where he found a bar.
It was small and almost as disgusting as the hunter's hotel room, but it'd do for the time being. He plopped himself down and ordered a beer. His mind wandered as he waited for his drink. First it went to Sam. Was he alive? Beaten to a bloody pulp? Where was Cass keeping him?
Oh right, Cass. When did he get possessed? He was acting normal earlier that week when they talked. It had to have just happened. And what about the other night? He must have been possessed when he hit Dean, but right after, he apologized and he meant it. So, what? Was he fading in and out of it?
Dean was yanked back into reality when his beer was set in front of him. He quietly thanked the waitress before raising the glass to his lips and downing the beer. This continued again and again until the room got fuzzy around him and he wavered in his seat.
Finally, he was cut off. The waitress stepped back over to him, her arms crossed. "Okay, buddy, time for you to get going."
Dean looked up at her, muttered a few slurred words before he stood up and staggered outside. The cool air rushed him and he reel back a step. It was dark out now and very few people were out. How long was he in there? Must have been hours.
Even when this intoxicated, Dean knew if he could just make it back to his hotel room, he'd be just fine. He was pretty damn wasted though. Every step he took seemed to send him stumbling forward. The hotel wasn't even a mile away. He could do this.
Dean was nearly half way there before a terrible pain shot through the back of his head. He collapsed, feeling the warm, sticky liquid ooze then drizzle from the back of his head. Slowly, the hunter rose his aching head, eyelids drooping.
The figure stepped in front of him, shovel in hand. There was a smile curled from ear to ear on his sickly white face, black eyes meeting the hunter's green ones.
"Hello, Dean."
And his vision faded to black.