The loud shrill of the alarm is the first thing that wakes him, the second is the fact he's lying on his back and blinking up at a pristine white ceiling. Without thinking he arcs his arm out and slaps the alarm with his hand, fingers fumbling blindly to turn the damn thing off before it gives him a headache. He succeeds, but jerks his hand back when he feels a tiny bolt of electricity, like being shocked by static. Sitting up and on full alert now, Dean takes stock of the room; it smells as clean as it looks, there's no peeling, yellowed wallpaper and no spiderweb cracks in the ceiling -- definitely not the place they fell asleep in last night. But most importantly, there is no Sam.
"Sam?" Dean calls out as he slides from the bed and pats himself down, pleased his wallet and phone are still in tact and proceeds to pull out the later. "Sammy?" He calls again, louder this time. There is a distinct lack of water-running so he knows Sam's not in the shower, and it's then Dean realizes Sam's things are gone too and the second twin bed beside his own is made up like it's never been slept in.
"Son of a bitch!" The hunter swears as he flips his phone open and presses two on his speed dial. He puts it to his ear only to snap it away a moment later, looking at it in a mixture of surprise and panic. The number is not in service, the automated voice tells him and he knows that's not right. He tries another number, and another and another before snapping the phone shut and hurtling it down onto the bed in frustration. Picking it up again he slides it into his back pocket.
Running a hand through his hair he moves over to where his duffle bag lays open and roots through it. He's annoyed to find half his clothes missing but at least he's got his gun, the sawed-off and a box of salt rounds. He finds a small rosary tucked into the pocket of the bag and stuffs it into his front pocket. You never know when you might need some holy water. Sam has his flask, he remembers, he was the last one to use it.
"Calm down." He tells himself out loud, shoving the gun into the back of his jeans, under his shirt. "Find Sam, get the hell out of here, wherever here is." Picking up the box of shells, he dumps a few on the bed, loads the sawed-off and shoves a handful more into his other jeans pocket. He shoves everything back into the bag and stuffs it under the bed for safe keeping and walks to the door.
Taking one look back and giving the room a cursory glance, he pulls open the door and heads out, surprised to find himself in a long, seemingly endless hallway.
"Well this isn't creepy at all."
(Ooc:
Permissions list. First time Dean-player here~ So please be gentle. I wanted to give him a test drive and thought I'd do it here, so patience please if I don't get his voice right off. Dean here is from mid s5-e1 (I forgot how s4 ended lulz had to change it), just to make things interesting. Anyone is welcome but would love castmates more than anything. Gen, funtimes or smut are all welcome as is wincest if that's your thing, I ship a lot of pairings, so just let me know what you'd like~ and I hope we have fun together~ :D.
Status: Going to grandmas to help with presents & christmas cleaning, will try to reply when/if I can~)