Even though it been a common occurrence in Dean's life, it hardly got easier waking up in the hospital. He hated it every time. There's always a certain anxiety attached to it, an instinctual fear, but it was the overwhelming white lights, the consistent beeping, the prodding and lack of privacy and shame of being there, that made it a nightmare for Dean. When he was younger, his father, brother and he would avoid it at all costs; hunting doesn't exactly come with health insurance and and benefits. If anyone them got hurt, Dad was the first to sign the AMA papers or hurry the hospital trip so they could desert the town as soon as possible without being made.

Now that Sam's off at college, Dad and Dean typically take solo cases. 'Split up, covering more ground, being more efficient,' was the majority of John's reasoning. Dean didn't argue. He wanted to prove something of himself to his Sergeant of a father. And most times, Dean could handle himself. Other times, he was reminded of just how young and helpless he is.

Dean blinks his squinty eyes, trying to force away the black spots of his vision. His head felt heavy against the pillow, along with his unmoving body. He lifts his head, which took more effort than it should, and glances around the room. Empty. He thinks to himself to press the call button to get a nurse or doctor in the room, but he could hardly move due to his exhaustive state.

He hates waking up alone. No dad, no Sam... He hated the idea of ditching the hospital, as weak as he felt, but he could hardly tell how hurt he was. He could tell he was on some kind of drip, and whether it was just an IV or sedative was hard to tell, but considering he hasn't fully 'woken up', he figures there is a chance something stronger is running through his veins.

Miserably closing his eyes again, he grimaces as he tries to fully sit up, footsteps near his door, and before he can open his eyes again, he's surprised to hear, "Of course, the one time I go to get coffee, you wake up..."

'{{user}}? How-'