In which Dean wakes up not where he left himself. Again.
When Dean had gone to sleep, Sam was in the next bed over, all his gear was in the room, and he was passing out to the sound of incredibly fake screams from some half-assed crappy horror movie.
When he woke up, he was in a completely different hotel room, Sam was gone, and none of his crap was around either. He was stranded with no phone, no laptop, nothing. Just him and the clothes on his back, and that really wasn't all that awesome. Really, really not.
His first reaction was panic. After all, waking up somewhere where he didn't belong wasn't cool in any instance, and the last time that had happened, he wound up five years in the future, getting chased by Croats and seeing the Devil wearing his brother. None of those were fond memories he particularly wanted to relive. He picked himself up, forcing his way out of the door and into the street, looking around for any signs of life.
"Oh, come on!" he said to no one in particular, eyes aimed rather angrily at the sky. They knew who he was talking to. "I stayed away from the Goddamn Jehovah's Witnesses."
He sighed heavily, starting to look around again before he spotted a familiar set of long, sleek lines resting in one of the parking spaces of the motel. He let out a long breath of relief, before rushing forward, running his hand over the hood of the car. "Baby, thank God. Whoever I am here, I actually have some common sense."
He was never speaking again of what he found in Croat World. Never. Again.