Dean walked into the motel, gun in hand. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat down on the creaky single bed. He rested his head in his hands and ran through today's case. Letting out a heavy sigh, he leaned back to fall asleep.
"Hello Dean." The deep raspy voice sounded from a shadowed corner. Without getting up or opening his eyes, Dean replied quietly, "Hey, Cas. Any news? Rogue angels? Omens? The usual?"
"Not so far" Cas said, a little hint of impatience in his voice. "Besides," he said hesistantly," That's not why I'm here."
Dean sat up, staring at the nerdy little man wearing a trench coat. "Ok?" he asked, "So why are you here Cas?"
Cas stared into his eyes in his typical mysterious "Angel of the Lord" way, and asked, "Where's Sam?"
Dean raised his eyebrow in question. "He's at the bar. Drinking. Meeting women. Figured he should have one night this year to enjoy himself a bit. Yo