He hadn't seen him in days.

Hell, it might've been weeks or months, but certainly not years.

Maybe it had been only an hour since they had last talked, his eyelids where still heavy, though he had just awoken in the shabby motel room. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, waiting for his equilibrium to set in and for the room to stop spinning so vividly. Closing his eyes he swallowed bile, grimacing, maybe he'd been sick and that was why he had been laying down.

God, what a nasty taste.

He thought as he opened his eyes, the room was no longer spinning, he got up and walked to the desk across the small room and sat down immediately, catching his breath. Crinkling his eyebrows in confusion he then felt a sharp pang in his side, lifting up the gray shirt he saw the medical rapping.

Oh that explains it, dammit.

He slipped on a pair of shoes, pulled on the leather jacket on the back of his chair; he stepped in front of the mirror before exiting the motel room. He had dark bags under his eyes, his normally vibrant green eyes were diluted and his normally tanned skin was pallid. He breathed deeply, succeeding in only coughing, deep breathing pulled at the wound on his side. Cursing under his breath and grabbing the doorframe for support.

Dammit Sammy, where are you?

He stepped outside and the sight was offense. The parking lot was vacant, minus the few cars that were left in it. One was upside down and the windows all broken, the others were in a similar condition. The ground was littered with newspapers and trash of all kinds, the buildings across the street had there windows bashed in and it was clear that, on this street at least, no one was living here. Some of the building looked like remnants of a massive fire, while others looked as if they'd suffered flooding.

He blinked his eyes a few times to adjust to the outside lighting, hoping if he'd blink a few times maybe the view was change, hoping it was just a hallucination.

But before him was a wasteland, it was like something out of a resident evil movie. Except there's no hot warrior chick…

To make things even worse his Impala was AWOL. He was stranded, and by the looks of things he'd been here a while. The question was why? And how did he get here? Where and what is 'here'? Most importantly, why isn't Sam with him?

Dean ran a hand through his hair, agitation.

He sat on the bench, before he started exploring he needed to sit, his side was on fire, clenching his teeth he pulled up his shirt again and looked, there was no bleeding but, damn, did it burn like hell. Pulling the shirt down, and stewing in anger at his incapacitation, he shifted in the bench, something in his jacket pressed into the opposite side. He reached in the pocket, pulling a cylindrical orange bottle.

Hey he smiled in self-achieved victory. Pain Killers…Vyh-co-den…

He sounded it out in his head. Vicodin.

Ha ha! Like my man, House, poppin the pills like a wrote a fake prescription.

He tossed back about three of the tablets.

His smile faded as he stared back at the abyss, spread out before him.

"Where the Hell am I?"

He woke up fast, like he'd been electrocuted. He looked around suspiciously, huffing slightly, trying not to act as if he'd been startled. Sam let out a breath and tried to calm down, leaning back into the seat of the Impala. He still had to find Dean. Sam opened his eyes and looked back out the rain drizzled window, the neon lights of the Shady Lady Motel flashed every few letters, but not consecutively.

Sam pulled out his cell phone, no new calls. Biting his lips, he was anxious he hadn't seen Dean in two weeks, since the incident. And though he didn't want to admit it, but Dean might be gone. The circumstances of his disappearance where…well, not odd, but…Supernatural. "No." Sam stopped thinking it. He'd find Dean; he had to be there for him, after all Dean had been there for him. Hopefully he'd find him in time, before it was all over. "Yeah, I'll find him. Okay, Sam think." He told himself out loud, he smirked and laughed at himself a little. Shaking his head, his unruly dark hair falling into his face. "Yeah, I'm sure I'll figure out where in all of the places he would've been sent…" Tensing, he tossing his phone onto the seat next to him. "I'll just pick up my phone and call the douche bag. It's not like I have Lucifer on speed dial."