Dean's mouth gapes open and his jaw drops completely when his eyes meet the one's that he never thought he would see again. "Cas-Castiel? What-What are you-I just-what?" He stutters. Dean feels his heart pounding against his ribs and it irritates him because he has no idea why his body is acting the way it is.

Oh god...this isn't happening...please tell me this isn't happening right now...

Castiel looks as astounded as Dean does. "Dean," He gasps, "What are you doing here?"

Dean's heart is pounding. His eyes are wide and he feels like he just swallowed a butterflies nest. "I-this-it's uh, my hotel."

Castiel grins slyly. "Small world. It's mine too. I'm in 4024." He says as he takes a few steps closer to Dean, his smile beaming at him.

Dean feel's his eye twitch.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Dean's at a loss of words, and he stands there in front of the guy like a monument frozen for eternity. His stomach is twisting in all sorts of directions, and he has no idea how he feels about this. Castiel is still grinning at him, and it soon spreads into a gummy smile. Dean's eyes trail over Castiel's lips, and his heart nearly explodes.

"I take it you're surprised to see me." He says.

Yes. Yes I'm fucking surprised to see you.

Dean parts his mouth, but finds it extremely difficult to put what he wants to say into words, mainly because he doesn't know what to say at all. He's doesn't want to be happy that Castiel is here, but his body disagrees. So, he settles for the only thing his body will allow him to say. "Holy fucking shit." He says breathlessly.

Castiel laughs, "So that's definitely a yes."

Dean shuts his eyes and scoffs before he's finally comes to his senses. "I just-wow-I can't believe you're here, Castiel." He says, his jaw still dropped. He feels his palms begin to sweat furiously, and he hasn't the slightest clue why he's so nervous. Yeah, it was a very small world indeed, but Dean knows he is way more shocked than he should be.

Castiel shrugs, "Well, here I am."

Dean's finding it difficult to speak, so he just nods his head and tries to play it as cool as possible, but he knows he's failing. Miserably. "Uh-wow. This-it's uh, it's real weird, man."

Castiel raises his eyebrows as he nods, "It is. Very strange indeed."

Dean calms down enough to breathe normally now, and his face is beginning to turn back to its original color. He still knows he's making more of a fool of himself than he ever has before in his life, and he feels himself begin to heat up. "How long are you here for?"

Fuck! Dean thinks, balling up his fists, why would you ask him that? Why?

Castiel takes in a deep breath, "Not sure. These meetings can go on forever, to be honest. Could be a few days, could be more. I'm not sure yet. How about you?"

Dean feels an immense amount of bliss run across his body. He smiles, knowing that he will be able to see those eyes of his more and more.

Shit. NO. NO. NO. NO!

Dean huffs, "Well the wedding is two days from now, and starts around nine on Saturday. There will probably be a party or two, so I'd say about a week tops."

Castiel looks extremely satisfied with Dean's answer. He nods his head, eyes falling to Dean's lips, then back up to his eyes again, and Dean feels his lungs shrink. "Oh, very cool. Are you excited?"

"Yeah, Sammy and I are real close. Hate to see him getting married to Bridezilla, but the girl makes him happy. Wearing a suit, though, is so not my style. Can't even tie my own damn tie. "

Castiel laughs, adjusting the blue tie around his neck. "Well, as you can see, I'm wearing one now, and I can assure you I've had years of practice. If you need my assistance, please don't hesitate to knock."

Dean freezes, because that was most definitely an invite.

Dean looks at the blue tie, and smiles when it reminds him of Castiel's eyes. His eyes involuntarily drag over the rest of Castiel's chest, and god, this guy is definitely a runner. It's hard to see the muscles through his shirt, but Dean can see that even through the trench coat and suit that Castiel is very well built. He wonders how his chest would look without the trench coat, or the suit jacket, or...the shirt entirely.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Dean Winchester, you are screwed. So very screwed.

Dean clears his throat. "Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it." He says, surprised at how easily the nick-name just slides off his tongue. And it just feels so...right.

"Of course. It's my pleasure, Dean." Castiel smiles, curling his tie around his finger, "But anyways, I have to go meet my brother, Gabriel, outside the hotel. If I'm late he'll turn into a moody teenage girl." He laughs, rolling his eyes. Dean smiles at Castiel's ability to make himself laugh. It's cute.

Dean wipes his palms on his pants because they're so sweaty it's almost horrifyingly disgusting. Castiel is still smiling at him and Dean's finding it extremely difficult to breathe.

Castiel outstretches a hand, "It was great talking, Dean. I'm glad we're friends, and I'm looking forward to talking with you more."

And of course, Castiel had to extend his hand when Dean's sure his palms are the most sweaty and unappealing they'd ever been in his life. But Dean can't deny a perfectly good handshake opportunity when he sees one, so he stretches his hand out and wraps it warm and clammy against Castiel's.

Dean's surprised to find that Castiel's hands are just as sweaty as his are. There's this wave of heat against Dean's fingers, and it spreads to his chest and makes him actually, physically, shiver.

"Yeah-uh, yes. I am too." Dean nods. He wants to yank his hand away but it feels super-glued to Castiel's skin, and it isn't until Castiel slowly pulls his hand out of Dean's grasp, brushing the tips of Dean's fingers before Dean finds that he can breathe again.

Castiel squints and grins mischievously, as if he knows something Dean doesn't. Castiel smiles at him one last time before making his leave down the hallway, and Dean follows him with his eyes until he turns and is out of sight.

Dean's feet are numb. His eyes are trailing around the room, trying to make sense of what just happened.

And as he stares blankly at the empty hall in front of him, he realizes there's now two things he knows for sure:

1. He is uncontrollably, undoubtedly, and wildly attracted to Castiel Milton.

2. He is: So. Fucking. Screwed.

"Hey, Dean! How was the plane ride? Okay? Did you throw up?"

Dean sits on the hotel bed and holds his cell phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he takes his shoes off. "It was fine. And no, jerk, I didn't throw up."

Sam muffles a slow laugh on the other line, "Wow. How did you manage that?"

Dean grunts, "Sam. It's a fucking plane, not a roller coaster descending into Hell."

"Hey, I remember somebody being terrified shit-less of planes not more than a year ago. What happened to that guy? Get distracted?"

Shit... Dean thinks with a heavy breath, I was distracted...

"Dean?"

Dean clears his throat, "Yeah sorry, I-uh, no. I just fell asleep during the flight, is all." He groans as he lays back on his bed. Dean's been afraid of planes for majority of his life, and all it takes is one guy to distract him?

"Alright, sure, Dean." Sam says with another laugh, "Oh, and also, I have news."

Dean's body hitches and he sits up in bed, "You dumped Ruby? Oh please tell me you dumped Ruby!" He says excitedly.

"You're on speaker phone, jackass!"

Dean cracks up, "Whoops, my bad. Sorry I'm not sorry, Ruby." He says sarcastically, and he hears Ruby huff on the other line. "Sammy, take me off speaker, would ya?"

"You're off," Sam clears his throat, "C'mon man, you know I'm not dumping Ruby."

Dean falls back on the bed, his body deflating. "I know, unfortunately. So what's the news?"

"We postponed the wedding."

And just like that, Dean's sitting back up on the bed again, "What? Why? Sam! I don't-I can't stay in this hotel-the money—"

"I know," Sam cuts him off, his voice is deep and serious. "That's why I'm going to take care of it, alright? It's been moved to next Thursday."

Dean's jaw drops, "Thursday? Next Thursday? Are you fucking kidding me? A week?! I hardly even have enough clothes to last me 'til Sunday!" Dean runs his hand over his forehead when he feel's it beginning to throb. He pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sam, I can't stay in this hotel. And Lisa...god, she'll get thrown off her rocker."

"Yes you can! And you will! I told you I'm taking care of the money, alright? And since when do you give a fuck what Lisa thinks? What she's done to you, how she treats you is unex—"

"Stop, Sam." Dean huffs. He does not want to talk about this right now. He plops his butt on the bed with a loud grunt. Sam's right, Lisa is the last thing he needs to be worrying about, but he is worrying about the expenses here. He's lucky his brother is a fancy, rich-ass lawyer who can afford to stay in nice hotels like this for more than a week. "I'm saving up enough money from the shop and paying you back. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Dean's headache spreads. It's going to take him months to earn enough money at the repair shop to pay his brother back. He's been putting little pieces of his earnings into a savings account since he got the mechanic job when he was 27. Three years later, he figures he has enough money to pay for at least a week at the hotel. Probably less.

Sam takes a slow breath, "You don't have to Dean. I'm your brother. I want to do these things for you."

"You really think that's gonna cut it, Sammy? It's a no. I'm repaying you every penny. And don't argue with me 'cause you ain't gettin' anywhere."

The phone is silent for a while and all Dean hears is the pounding in his head.

"I don't understand why you can't just let me help y—"

"Sam..." Dean growls as he clenches his eyebrows. He's so not in the mood to do this right now, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and fall asleep. He's used to Sam asking to help him, but Dean knows he'll always be too stubborn to say yes. It's not that he doesn't need help, it just that he doesn't want it.

Sam sighs, "Alright, Dean." He says. Dean hears Ruby call Sam's name on the other line. "Dean, I have to go."

Dean smiles, "Man, Sammy. You are so whipped."

"Shut up, Dean!"

"If I say yes to you helping me, will you dump the bitch?" Dean laughs.

"Goodbye, Dean."

Dean can practically hear Sam's bitch-face when he hangs up. Dean slumps his stomach on his bed. It's only been 10 hours since he's left New York, and he's already desperate to go back home. He's probably only got clothes to last him until Sunday, not to mention he's probably going to spend the rest of his money here. Dean's head is throbbing and he closes his eyes as he lets his body drift of to sleep.

And somewhere in the midst of all this madness, Dean see's the smallest spark of light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe being stuck here with a hotel room next to Castiel wouldn't be so bad after all.

He's smiling when he closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and dark hair, sweaty palms, and blue ties, and trench coats.

Dean wakes up a few hours later, and his headache is gone. He rubs his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom and starts the shower. He needs one badly, considering he's been sweating like a pig since the middle of the flight. And his dreams did not help.

This is bad. Very bad. He knows that the more time he spends with Castiel, the more difficult it will be to say goodbye. He's in a relationship, and he can't seem to understand why he can't grasp the fact that he's engaged. He's been with Lisa for three years. Three years he's been in this relationship, yet he still feels like something is missing. Lisa had done bad things, terrible things, that left cracks in their relationship. Dean's done everything he can to patch and tape them up, and suddenly it's as if the tape is tearing apart, and all the cracks are showing.

Dean stops his thoughts, because it's not at all what he wants to be thinking about.

What the fuck's gotten into you, Winchester? Pull yourself together!

He pinches the bridge of his nose before he removes his clothes and steps into the hot water. He shuts his eyes and tries to think of Lisa's beautiful brown eyes. He tries to think of her body against his, and the way she kisses him. And it's slowly fading. Fading into blue eyes, his body against his. The way he would kiss him.

Dean's eyes snap open. He parts his mouth and breathes heavily, "Stop, Dean. Stop, stop, stop." He whispers as he pounds his fist against the shower wall.

He gets out of the shower quickly, throws on a tattered pair of basketball shorts and a Led Zeppelin tee before he flops into bed again. Dean eyes are tightly shut, and he begins to breathe slowly, and he calms himself down with the thought of blue eyes again. He goes to twist the ring on his finger.

His eyes snap open.

It's gone.

The ring is gone.

Dean's body jolts out of bed as he rushes to the bathroom. His hands are scrambling on the floor, and his heart begins to pound the more he looks, because he can't find it. He looks in the shower, in the room, under the bed, and he practically tears apart his suitcase and backpack. And it's not there. Sam's ring. The silver ring Sam gave him for his twenty-first birthday, is gone.

Dean panics, his hands finding his hair and roughly entwining his fingers in the strands, "No..." He whispers. This silver little circle has helped Dean through some of the worst times of his life by reminding him that Sam was always going to be his brother, and that Sam was always going to be there for him. And he lost it.

Dean stops breathing. "I left it on the plane!" He yells, remembering it clearly now. He'd took it off and set it down in the bathroom when he washed his hands. "How could I forget to take it?!"

Cas.

He'd been thinking about Cas.

Dean feels the heat rise in his stomach. He'd lost his brothers ring, because he'd been too caught up in a guy? Dean has just lost the most important thing in his life because of a stupid, fucking guy.

Dean's stomach twists as he kicks the side of the bed, "Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me?! FUCK!" He screams as he paces in his room. His headache returns, and it's throbbing furiously against his skull.

Sam is going to be so disappointed in him. His brother is going to hate him, just like his Dad. For being an absolute fuck up. The heat rises to his face, turning his cheeks red.

Dean slips on his shoes, grabs a gray hoodie out of his bag, and strides angrily out the door. He's so angry he can't think straight, and Dean's sure his legs aren't working properly. He collides with someone as he's walking down the hall.

Dean's too angry to apologize, let alone look up. He keeps walking, when suddenly a strong hand grips his shoulder.

"Dean?"

Dean looks up.

Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.

"Out of everyone I could've bumped into, it had to be you! God dammit, Cas!" He yells, and he feels the upmost urge to punch Castiel in the face for the way he's staring at him, because his eyes are not helping.

He shoves Castiel off him and continues walking down the hall. His head is buzzing and throbbing and all he knows at the moment is that he needs a drink.

Castiel runs after him and cuts in front of him, blocking Dean from the hallway, "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Get the fuck out of my way, Cas." Dean spits at him as he tries to shove Castiel away, but he doesn't budge.

"Did something happen?" Cas says, his voice low and deep. And it makes Dean even angrier because that's the whole reason he's in this mess anyways.

"Yes," Dean snaps as he clenches his jaw, "You happened."

The look that forms in Castiel's eyes is something that Dean has never seen before. His face sinks, and all that's left is a slightly parted mouth and glassy eyes.

Castiel flinches and his mouth is twitching as it tries to search for words, "I don't, I don't underst—"

Dean shoves Cas hard. He knows if he doesn't walk away now, he won't be able to walk away at all. "Fuck you, Castiel. I wish I had never met you." He screams at him as he continues down the hall.

Dean hears Castiel whimper something, but Dean ignores it, because it's all his fault. Dean won't stand to hear or look at Cas for another moment, and it leads him outside the hotel, where he boards a hotel shuttle bus heading towards the closest bar in sight.

Dean curses to himself the whole ride there.

When the car pulls up to the bar, Dean slams the car door, not even bothering to acknowledge the driver, and makes his way to the old wooden building. Dean looks up at the ratty old sign above the door reading: The Roadhouse, and he pushes the door to the bar open, sending the wooden doors smashing against the wall. There's people staring at him, but he doesn't care. A girl with wavy blonde hair approaches him from behind the counter as he sits in a stool.

"Someone's definitely not having a good night." She says to him as she pours a glass of vodka and sets it down in front of him. "On the house."

Dean looks at her and nods, "Thank you." He groans.

She's stares down at him cunningly, her brown eyes intimidating and daunting. "Name's Jo." She says as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

Dean manages to curl his lips slightly. She would've definitely been someone Dean would take home if he were single. Her body was slim and hostile, and Dean knew she'd be a good catch. "Thanks, Jo."

Jo nods at him and places a beer in front of him before she turns away. Dean watches her leave and sips down the vodka in one gulp. He cringes when it slides down his throat. He doesn't hesitate, and he grabs the beer from the counter and sips that too. Dean wants to get drunk. He wants to forget. He needs to forget blue eyes and dark hair.

His encounter with Cas is playing on repeat in his head. He swallows hard, because he knows he said things back there that he wished had never left his mouth, let alone even cross his mind.

I wish I had never met you.

Dean smacks himself in the head.

You fucking idiot!

He takes a deep breath and buries his face in his hands. He knows it isn't Castiel's fault. He just needs someone to blame, because it's easier than blaming himself.

"Need to talk?"

Dean looks up and Jo's sitting in the stool next to him. She purses her lips at him, and a formidable vibe radiates off her skin. "No." Dean says dryly.

Jo laughs, "Oh, please, you look like you just got hit by a train."

Dean feels a heavy weight against his chest. "Something like that." He groans.

She sighs, and her fingers begin to tap on the counter. "And let me guess, you wanna get real drunk, 'cause you think it'll help?"

Dean lifts his face from his hands to look at her. Her eyes seem to read right through him. He looks away, "Just get me another vodka, huh?"

Jo takes a deep breath, "Look, I don—"

"Just do it! I'm the fucking customer!" Dean snaps at her. Eyes lock on him again, and he feels like the world is watching him.

"Jo, what's going on here?"

Dean turns and see's a much older woman with darker hair standing behind the counter. Her eyes are the same as Jo's, hostile and threatening, and Dean doesn't need to guess anymore than once to know that the woman is Jo's mother.

"Nothing, mom." Jo spits.

"'Nothing, Mom' my ass." She spits right back. Her eyes are taking turns switching from Jo to Dean. "Jo, wanna introduce me to your new friend?"

Dean tilts his head, and he's sure that Jo's mom is by far the scariest woman he's ever encountered. Jo clears her throat, "I wouldn't call us friends, mom."

"Introduce me anyways."

Jo exchanges a look with Dean and Dean pulls his hand forward. "Dean Winchester," He says. Her shake is firm and solid.

She grins, "Ellen Harvelle." She lets go of his hand and turns her head to Jo. "I see you've met my daughter, Jo." Dean nods. He's really not in the mood to talk to anyone, but he's scared to stop talking to Ellen, because she's that much intimidating. Ellen cocks her head at him, "Hon, you look like you just got hit by a train."

Dean can't help but smile, "Like mother like daughter," He says as he tips the beer to his lips, "Jo said the same thing. That obvious, huh?" Dean swigs his beer.

Ellen and Jo exchange laughs, "Order anything you want, sweetie. It's on us tonight." Ellen says before she disappears into the back room.

Jo pats him on the back, "Well, Dean, call me over when you need another one." She says with a dry smile.

And Dean does just that.

He does it over and over again, until he feels like he's going to be sick. The alcohol hits him all at once, and now he's singing along to a song that's playing behind the counter on the radio that he can't hear, but he's cursing out loud because the person singing on the radio has the words wrong. Dean's voice is staggering all over the place along with the rest of his body, and he swings his arms around some blonde chick and kisses her cheek.

Dean presses his face close to the girl's neck, "And-who-uh-what's you-you are, ugh, your name, blondie?"

The girl laughs and leans against the pool table, "Oh babe, you are way to drunk for me. Sober up and we'll talk," She grins against his cheek before she runs her lips over the bone, "Name's Lilith."

Dean hooks his arm around her waist and presses himself into her, not because he wants to touch her, but mainly because he's having trouble holding himself up. "Mmm, baby, y-you, did I e'r tell y-you that you're soooooo hot." He says. His head falls to the crease of her neck.

Liilith leans away, "Mmm, boy. You are gone." She says as she pulls away from the pool table. Dean tries to follow her, but he hits his shoulder when he stumbles slightly, knocking against an older woman. Dean grunts, and eyes the drink in her hand. He doesn't know what's in it, but he snatches the glass from her in one quick moment before he chugs the remaining contents.

The woman gasps, "Hey! What the—"

Dean places his finger on her lips and giggles, "Shhhh. Y-you ma'am, 're speak'n real loud." He says, and the woman swats his hand away and pushes past him.

Dean's body flings around as he watches her leave, "Well, fine! I don't nee' no girl. Imma strong ind-independent man, who don' nee' nobody!" He spits, and some people move away from him. He laughs at them, because they don't know how much fun Dean's having. He's enjoying himself more than he's ever in years. He can't tell what's real, or what's in his head, and he loves it.

He hurls his body to the counter and leans all his weight into it. Jo see's him and walks over, her face baffled.

"Dean, you should probably stop drinking alcohol." She says quietly.

Dean rests his chin on the counter as he lifts his finger and puts it on her nose, "See, th' only thing t-that went in my ear, was you 'nd uh— alcohol. So let's make it 'appen, huh?" Dean pinches her nose, and Jo pulls away as she shakes her head.

"No, Dean!" She yells.

Dean pushes himself off the counter and backs up with long, slow strides. "C'mon! What's it take 'ta get some alc-alcohol 'round here!?" Dean opens his arms to her, one out on each side of his body.

He turns and locks his eyes on who he thinks is Lilith, or Leona, and frankly Dean can't remember her name and frankly, he doesn't care. "Yooo, girl!" He calls as he swings his legs in her direction, but accidentally bumps into one of the men playing pool. The man turns to him slowly, and Dean can't make out the expression on his face all too well, but he knows that it's not good.

The man shoves him, "You fucking kidding me, kid?"

Dean's pushed so his back hits a table, "Woah, guy, I don't wan' no trouble. Don' mess with me!" He yells at him, swatting his hand against his arm like there was a mosquito on it.

The man grunts as he grabs the collar of Dean's shirt, shoving him so the table falls behind him. The table hits the ground with a loud crash, and all eyes lock on them.

Another man grabs the guy's shoulder, "Gordon, come on, he's just drunk. He doesn't know what he's doing."

Gordon, which Dean concludes is the man that is only inches from his face, shoves Dean more before he turns his head. "Shuddup, Vic! Fuckin' kid has been a little shit all night long! I'm sick of it!"

Dean wraps his hands around Gordon's wrist, and shoves him with as much force as there is left in his body. Gordon keels a little and Dean laughs as he frees himself from his grasp. "Ha-ha! You lose!" Dean yells. He flips him off and waves his finger around as if it's some kind of trophy. Dean's happy and he isn't going to let an old fart like this guy ruin his night.

Gordon growls, "Oh, boy, you're gonna regret that, you fucker." He says. His legs stride towards Dean, and in one brisk move, his fist collides with the left corner of his jaw. Dean swoons against the counter and knocks his head hard on one of the stools. Dean's skull feels like its just broke in half, and there's a blaring pain piercing his face.

In fear of being hit again, Dean swings his arms out at the man, but all he see's is a shapeless figure reaching for his collar. Dean whacks him hard in the eye, and he feels his knuckles crack against Gordon's cheek, even though his hands are numbed.

"You fucker!" Gordon snarls before he hits Dean with a forward uppercut. And oh boy, Dean felt that one. He feels his teeth clash onto his lip, and suddenly his whole tongue swirls around a puddle of blood. And another one comes, this time it hits Dean in the eye, and then his eyelashes cover with red droplets that seeps into Dean's eye.

"You sonuvabitch!" Dean shouts. His lips are numb, and he feels trickles of blood seeping down his throat. Dean can't feel anything, but at the same time, he feels everything. His body tingles and is numb, yet he feels every ounce of pain as it transfers into his core.

Gordon is suddenly pulled off him by two strong arms.

"Gordon Walker! You get outta my bar this instant! You hear me?"

There's faint arguing but Dean can't seem to hear it. His ears are buzzing when his eyes struggle to adjust as the room spins around him. His head throbs and he hears soft whimpers that are too loud for his brain to process and its extremely overwhelming.

Dean feel someone's arms grasp his shoulders and haul him up. Dean feels a heavy grip on his back, and his other arm is over someone's shoulders. He hears low yells that are echoing through his ears that he can't make out. He's not really sure what his legs are doing, but they're moving in motion with the hands around his back.

There's a sudden blow of cool air on his face and he knows he's outside. He has a moment where he forgets who he is, and he's left with this loud buzz in his head. And he feels his stomach twist, and he gags and chokes before he finally feels himself bend and hurl a decent amount of alcohol in his stomach. The hands are rubbing his back. There's a strong bitter taste in the back of his throat but he feels a little bit better now that theres not as much alcohol in his system.

He see's a whip of blonde hair sweep across his eyes. "Jo.." He whispers, and his throat burns. He see's a pair of brown eyes before they turn away, and he's being hauled into the passenger's seat of a car. Dean closes his eyes and tries to remember why he's at the bar. He tries to remember why he's in California, but it seems to have slipped his mind. Everything has seemed to slip his mind.

Jo leans into him and hits him on the side of the face. "Hey, you with me, bud? Where you staying? I'm taking you home."

Dean watches her lips move, but it's blurry and slow, and his ears work just well enough that he makes out just the word 'home'. He parts his lips and lets out a breath before he stifles a whimper, "Hy-Hyatt." He groans, and he still tastes the faint flavor of blood and acid in his throat.

"The Regency?"

Dean nods.

The car starts, and Dean feels his body vibrate against the engine. He's moving, and there's lights whipping by in the window. Big, blurry spots of brightness pass him, and he make's out the blurred vision of a pole, a stop sign and trees. He closes his eyes for a second, or for what he thinks is a second, and suddenly the car comes to a halt, and Dean gasps as his eyes snap open. Moments later Dean feels the hands on his shoulder again. He's dragged out of the car, and there's a heavy weight that's pressing down on him that makes it hard for him to stand.

"Okay, Dean. What room number. Can you remember what room number you are?"

Dean's head still throbs, and he's trying to think. It hard to think with the lump that's stuck in his throat, and his body feels hot and sweaty.

And he remembers a voice. A deep low gravely one echoes in his ear.

"Small world. It's mine too. I'm in 4024."

Dean coughs, "4024. Take-take me to 4024." He breathes. And he's being dragged now, because his legs have decided to go full out M.I.A on him. He blinks, and it feels slow, like he's missed a chunk of time in only a quarter of a second. He blinks, and he's in the lobby. And then he blinks again, and he's in the elevator. Once more, and now he's in the hallway.

He hears Jo counting, and then she stops and sets him down on the ground against the wall. He blinks, and there's two figures over him and now he's unable to see or hear anyone, and there's just these faint colorful shapes moving above him. He's keeling over, and his head feels like its fifty pounds and getting heavier by the second, and soon he's unable to keep it up anymore, and its falls hard on the ground.

Then he feels someone wrap their arms around the bends of his knees, and then the arch of his back, and then he's floating. He still hears buzzing and he starts to feel the pain that resides in his face from the fight.

He blinks one last time, and see's blue eyes, bright and glistening into his.

And it's the last thing Dean can remember before he blacks out.