FADED ▷ Sam Winchester [2]

20 | SLOW FADE

"Late nights, are you sleepless too?
Wide awake in the starless blue
Staring up at the ceiling 
Do you feel what I'm feeling?"

-Ruth B.

***

    "I told you, I'm fine," Dean says as we step into the motel room. I roll my eyes at him. Obviously he's pretty far from fine.

    "Dean, you forgot your own name," Sam tells his older brother.

    "For a second," Dean points out. "Okay, yeah, that was weird." He shrugs off his jacket and sits on the bed.

    "Obviously you were hexed by the witch," I say to Dean. He looks at me annoyed.

    "No, because if a witch got a clear shot at me, I would be dead, okay?" Dean says. "I wouldn't be freakin', uh... Dory." I look at him bemusedly at the reference.

    "Dory?" Sam asks.

    "I'm not gonna apologize for loving that fish," Dean says defensively. "Not to either of you."

    "Okay, if you're doing so well, name all the members of Bon Jovi," Sam tells Dean. Okay, this should be a piece of cake. Dean knows classic rock like the back of his hand. Better than, probably.

    "We talking circa 1983?"

    "Sure," Sam says.

    "Done," Dean says. "We got Bon Jovi." He pauses, unable to remember the rest. "Whatever, this is stupid. Sam, I'm fine. Okay?"

    "Oh, come on, Dean!" I say. "This is not fine! You couldn't even remember Tico Torres! This is worse than I thought."

    "Okay, look, this... this is a gun," Dean says, picking his gun up, then putting it down. "This is a coat." He walks over to the lamp in the motel room and points. "This is a... a ... a... light stick." Sam looks surprised that Dean can't even remember.

    "A light st–" He breaks off mid-sentence to grab a sticky note pad and starts writing something on it. "Okay, we're gonna get you some help."

    "Look, we can figure this out okay, don't call Mom or Cas," Dean says. Sam walks over and tapes the sticky note to the lamp.

    "Fine, but until you get better..." He moves to show Dean that he wrote 'LAMP' on the sticky note.

    "Lamp, right," Dean says, snapping his fingers. "So close."

    •••

    "Okay, the last thing from yesterday I kinda sorta remember is us being here in, uh... big guy's office," Dean is saying later to Sam and I. We decided that retracing his steps is the best thing to do in order to figure out what happened to him.

    "Barry Gilman," Sam says.

    "Yes," Dean agrees, remembering. "We were here and we were looking for leads." He chuckles as he opens up a box of cigars that is sitting on the desk in the office. "Douche tax," he slides it into his coat. I roll my eyes.

    "You did that yesterday, too," I tell him.

    "Alright, come here," Sam goes over to the wall where there is a bunch of framed pictures. "Do these shake anything loose, these pictures?" Sam gestures to the wall. Dean looks for a moment, kind of hard, then steps back.