Humming under his breath and thinking about the redhead he was meeting later that night at the bar down the street, Dean opened the door to the motel room and walked in.
He froze at the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
"Who the hell are you?" Sam asked hoarsely.
Dean saw his brother standing in the bathroom door, pointing a revolver straight at Dean.
He froze. "Sam?"
Sam's eyes were wide and panicked, his face shining with sweat. "Who the hell is Sam?" He drew in a deep, gasping breath. "Who the hell am I?"