Dean's eyelids were getting heavy as he drove in silence. The only sound he could hear was the humming of the Impala's engine. He was beat. He'd been driving all night, allowing Sam to get some much needed shut-eye. They'd taken off from Bobby's place after helping Bobby dispatch a shape shifter that had been wreaking serious havoc in Jamestown, North Dakota. As if trying to prevent Lucifer from rising the week before hadn't been difficult enough.

It was midmorning; the sky was a clear blue when it peeked through the cloud cover. Dean was driving top speed down a deserted highway. He sighed in relief when he saw the sign that told him it was only a couple miles to the nearest town. He was looking forward to getting some shut-eye for himself.

Dean glanced in his rearview mirror and cracked a smile. Sammy was sprawled sideways across the backseat. One leg was propped up against the backrest, the other leg was hidden from Dean's view in the mirror, and it was probably in the space between the back seat and the back of the front seat. Sam's mouth was wide open. Dean narrowed his gaze to make sure Sammy wasn't drooling on his car. Sam wasn't.

As Dean drove, the road got more clustered with cars until he reached the town of Eagle, Wisconsin. His green eyes began scanning the signs looking for the nearest hotel. Just down the street he saw a sign for Morgan Motel. He decided it was as good place as any; it looked like it was a cheap motel.

The M in motel was tilted slightly from the battery any sign would get after many years. The motel itself looked in disrepair. The motel was supposed to be painted white, but the paint was shabby and was missing in spots. The red window shutters were hanging on loose hinges.

Dean turned the corner smoothly into the motel's parking lot. He noticed the soda machine had a white piece of paper duct taped to it, on it, written in sharpie, were the words "Out of Order". How surprising.

Dean pulled the Impala into a parking space in front of the hotel's office and got out of the Impala, leaving the engine on. Before turning towards the office, he poked his head in his open window and said, "Watch my baby, Sammy."

Sam snored a response.

Dean entered the motel office and got a room with two queen sized beds. He put it on his credit card that said John Bonham. Surprisingly the credit card wasn't rejected. Dean tried not to react to it. He scribbled a signature that would take a team of handwriting analysts to decode.

The woman behind the front desk thanked him for choosing the Morgan Motel. Dean grunted a response and walked out the door after being given two keys to room number five. He shoved the room keys in the back pocket of his jeans and opened the door to the Impala. Sammy was still passed out.

Dean slammed the door shut and still received no response from his brother. Dean kicked the Impala in reverse and drove his usual crazy way through the parking lot to a spot closer to door number five. He pulled into an open space and jerked the impala to a stop.

Dean felt something thud against the back of his seat. He shut off the engine and tried to hide his smile as he opened his door and turned to see Sam sprawled in the crevice behind the front seat where the feet of the person sitting in the back seat would go.

Sam shot his brother a glare.

Humor shone brightly through Dean's eyes as he said authoritatively, "Dude, get out of my car, you smell like the burritos we had back in Denver."

Sam grumbled, "You don't exactly smell like fresh baked apple pie."

Dean straightened up and shut the door, then walked to the Impala's trunk and grabbed out two bags.

Sam struggled to untangle himself from the clutches of the crevice. He managed to open the door and crawl onto the damp pavement.

Dean closed the trunk using the weight of one of the bags he held. He saw Sam struggling to crawl out of the back of the Impala. He hid a smile. He dropped Sam's bag by Sam's head and asked, "Dude, are you coming, or what?"

Sam grumbled but managed to get his feet untangled, "Yeah, yeah," Sammy managed to get his feet on the ground. He picked up his bag and followed Dean to the motel room. Dean had propped the door open with a chair for Sammy.

The inside of room five looked to be in better repair than the outside of the motel. The wallpaper wasn't peeling off the walls. The bathroom door was straight back on the left. There was a small kitchen-like counter on the back wall. It had a sink and a giant coffee machine. Sam noticed the coffee machine's light was on, meaning Dean had already started with making himself some coffee.

The beds were set sideways; the headboards were up against the right wall with a nightstand in between the two beds. Dean was rifling through the contents of his bag on one of the beds. There was a table in front of the large front window; the window's shades were drawn tight.

"Why are we here again?" Sammy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Dude, electrical storm rips through, and six cattle are mutilated?" Dean looked fiercely at his brother, "No way were the cattle mutilations from the storm, there's something going down here." Dean picked up his bag and dumped it on the floor by the foot of the bed. He bent down to begin unlacing his boots, "I am going to get some shut-eye. Go do some research, college boy."