You and Dean have been on the road for months, searching every inch of every state, studying every omen that came up, in hopes that you would find Sam. Crowley had kidnapped him, in hopes of squeezing information out about the renegade angels, able to smite numerous demons at a time. As you road shotgun next to Dean, your brain was drowning in thoughts of the worst. Taking note of your stress, Dean nudged your arm slightly.
"Hey, (Y/N), what's up? You okay?" He turned down the radio as well.
"Just worried about Sam, is all. It's been 3 months and we still haven't gotten a single lead." You allowed your arm to slump against your leg, pursing your lips.
"Well, since you're so worried about Sam, how about we talk over some dinner? It's getting late and I was about to find a motel anyhow." Dean flashed a weak smile, and you simply nodded.
20 minutes down the road, you came across a dingy motel that almost nearly mimicked the others you've stayed at. Dean went to grab the few bags from the car, while you reserved the room.
"One room, three nights please." You requested, sliding your fraudulent credit card across the counter.
"One bed or two?" The clerk asked, typing on the keyboard.
"Two, please." You responded, looking over your shoulder for Dean.
"Can't do that. We only have rooms available with single beds." He stared at you with one eyebrow raised, like you were stupid.
"What the hell did you ask what I wanted then, for?" You clenched your fists momentarily, glaring at the desk clerk.
"This bozo giving you trouble, (Y/N)?" Dean came in, bags slung over his shoulder and gripped in his right hand.
"No, no. We just don't get our own beds. We have to share." You jerked your card back with your room key and headed out.
Unlocking the door, Dean threw the bags almost carelessly on the circle table near the window. You faceplanted the bed, but immediately regret it due to the rush of dust and smell of mothballs deluged your nostrils. Coughing, you watched as Dean pulled up nearby restaurants on his phone. Surprisingly, you weren't hungry. You never were, really. Occasionally you would have a burger here and there, or maybe some lettuce from one of Sam's salads, but nothing really past that.
"So, what're you feeling tonight, (Y/N)? I'm hungry for a bacon double from somewhere, but it's up to you." Dean shoved his phone back in his pocket, heading over to the bags.
"Let's just go to Biggerson's." You shrugged, and headed out the door with Dean for dinner.
Back at the motel, you were feeling more off than normal. At Biggerson's, you'd started to feel nauseous as soon as you walked in. As you made your way to the bathroom in your motel room, The smell of iron grew more and more tenacious. Looking in the mirror, you noticed blood beginning to percolate from your nose, eyes, and ears. You squinted your eyes in a fit of pain, only to cause more blood to flow. A dull ringing began in your ears, and you howled in pain, causing Dean to run in.
"(Y/N)?! What's wrong? (Y/N)!!" Were the last words you heard from him before completely passing out.
When you awoke, the motel room lights were off, and you felt a pressure against your side. Tilting your head, you noticed a passed out Dean curled up next to you. Your body was insanely hot, and it was a wonder you hadn't woke him up yet. Haltingly slinking out from under the covers, you once more returned to the bathroom. The blood was faintly dried on your skin, probably wiped away by Dean. The ringing was still there, but you treated it now like static on an old television.
Walking back to the bed, you felt a sharp stab of pain through your head, falling to the floor. Dean groaned, groggily sitting up and walking over. He snapped to attention when he saw you on the ground.
You could hear every word Dean was saying, but couldn't see him or the motel room. Instead, your eyes were being shown a grainy picture of an old warehouse, surrounded with demons. The picture changed to the sky and surrounding forest, a small town, and now back to the warehouse.