Nightshift 38: M1- M10 Hallway

[kindalikedit]

Dean had taken a nap after dinner, figuring that he might as well grab whatever rest he could before he took off trying to find supplies for a full-blown exorcism. His sleep was fitful, the hunter tossing and turning in the bed, eventually settling for sprawling face down in it with his arms flung around his pillow. When he woke up, Angel was gone. Dean rolled over to sit up, jaw set as he rubbed the sleep from one bleary eye, still breathing heavily. Cold Oak. Fucking Cold Oak. That was over and done with, yet he was still having nightmares about the goddamned place, as if enough wasn't enough that all of that was far behind him now. Reaching up, Dean took in a slightly shaking breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he told himself he wasn't gonna keep waking up in cold sweats feeling Sam's blood all over him, and, if he was, he would deal with it 'cause it was just a bunch of dreams. Wasn't real anymore. He'd saved Sammy.

When he stood up, he was ready to get on with the night. He'd find his little brother, no matter what, even if he had to get his information from that demon Punk-Ass and not by asking nicely.

Dean was even looking forward to it now.

Heading over to the closet, Dean opened it. His clothes hung there in the closet, all perfectly folded, just like it'd been this morning when he'd left it. Feeling under his jeans, his fingers closed around the bowie knife's hilt. Setting the knife aside, Dean began changing, shrugging out of his simple patient clothes and kicking them aside so he could put on his real clothes. The last things to go on were his boots and jacket, the weight of his pendent settling comfortably against his chest. Dean turned his attention to getting ready for the night. Flashlight? Check. Bowie? Check. And something to carry more than a handful of salt...Dean improvised, removing the pillow case from his pillow and balling it up so he could stuff it in his pocket.

Ready as he was ever gonna be. Aside from being bandaged up still, he was good.

Dean consulted the map he'd copied his first day here from the bulletin board. If he was gonna try to get hold of a rosary, it'd most likely be in Patient Possessions - someone here would've had to be a Bible-thumper who believed in God and all that stuff at some point, right? Salt, he figured the kitchen. As for something to deal with Punk-Ass, he figured he'd need some rope (or duct tape, if they didn't have any rope just lyin' around) and something to draw out the Key of Solomon. Not to mention water; kinda hard to make holy water when you had the holy but not the water. First thing was first though; he still had that meeting with that "R" chick - he thought it was a chick - in F-A hall for that spare flashlight.

The hunter turned on his flashlight and opened M2's door, stepping outside.

[To here]

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[kindalikedit]

"It wasn't natural," Dean admitted as he shot Ron a Look. Magic? Most people didn't immediately leap to the "it must be magic!" conclusion right off the bat, not in his line of work - nah, it was usually the "I must be going crazy" or "you're insane" lines he was used to. "She started chanting and suddenly there was this ice and freezing cold water all over the place. I got hit with it. So I guess you could say it was magic, 'cause I sure as hell can't describe it any other way."

He wondered if there were more hunters than just himself here. Looking at Ron, really trying to size up him, he just couldn't see him at a hunter, sticking stakes into things and decapitating vampires and all that fun stuff that was just a day at the office. He just looked...well, Dean wasn't sure how he looked, but he looked like he should be thinking about having kids and hard at work building that Joe Normal white picket fence to keep them corralled with. Still, looking like a civvie and actually being one were two different things. He filed away having to look into Ron's background for when he was, y'know, more conscious and not recovering from having his ass frozen off. Maybe he wouldn't have died immediately, but without Ron to step in, Dean knew it hadn't looked good. Ron seemed like a nice guy. He hoped he stayed that way 'cause he really didn't want to have to add him to his growing list of crap that needed hunting or an ass-kicking.

"Thanks," Dean said, although it sounded a little uncomfortable, like he wasn't used to thanking people for saving his life. Sure, Sammy had stepped in more times than he could count in the past, but that was different. You didn't need to say anything, his kid brother knew what he meant. Dean switched subjects, concentrating on the warmth the blankets wrapped tightly around him were providing. "Talk 'bout blind leadin' the blind, man. I'm new myself. Got maybe two days on you."

He shifted positions. There wasn't any harm in bringing the guy up to date, removing any thing like "I'm a Winchester", "I'm also a hunter", and "by the way, you're not a monster, are you?" from his thoughts about what this place was.

Dean still didn't feel one hundred percent but the fact he was thinking in a more or less straight line was a good sign no matter how crappy he looked. "From what I can tell, you're in this place called Landels Institute. During the day, it seems to be an asylum, but during the night..." he made a shrug, "gets crazy, more or less. Y'get a lot of stuff you can't explain. It's pretty dangerous stepping outside the rooms. Guess you and I drew the short straws, Ron. Sorry, man."

And he was sorry. He was sorry Sammy was still out there, maybe being under watch by people like Doctor Makiko Kisugi, he was sorry he hadn't had enough time to spend with Sam when he came back, he was sorry he didn't have any of his usual weapons to protect everyone here. He was sorry Ron had equally shitty luck and had ended up here with probably no warning, like the other people he'd talked to. If they'd been taken by the Demon, there hadn't been the usual signs.

[timeleaper.livejournal.com]

Chanting and then ice. Yup, sounded like heraldry to him. But how? As far as he knew, he was the only human who was able to use Heraldry. It had been an unknown art until they'd visited Roak and he knew that Iria had never heard of it before then either. How strange. Dean definitely looked human, but that had become a confusing issue recently. "This may sound strange, but she didn't happen to have a tail or wings did she?" he asked mildly. If this woman was Fellpool or Featherfolk it would explain it, just leaving the question of how such a building like this had come to be on Roak. The Rezonians perhaps? "It definitely sounds like heraldry though," he added for Dean's benefit.

Hmm, that was something to file away for further thought. He wasn't expecting Dean to recognise the term though. Only the Calnus crew and those involved in his mission had even heard of the term and even then, it hadn't been studied or anything.

He smiled at the other man, shaking his head. "Anything you can tell me would be helpful, no matter how patchy." He was kind of missing the presence of scanners and computers, he had to admit. They made some things much easier. "Two days is still better than two minutes." He listened carefully to what Dean said, frown deepending as it became clear that something had gone terribly wrong. An asylum. He didn't know how he would have got to such a place, but then, he didn't know much about the Time Gate really. "Pitch darkness, attackers," He murmured, glancing over at Dean and remembering the injuries. He would have said Asmodeus except that he knew the demon was dead. He'd seen him die with his own eyes.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. "I guess the guardian of the Time Gate has a pretty warped sense of humour," he murmured with a faint smile. And now he had no clue how to find the others or get back to his real time. He could be anywhere in history. "Thanks for the help. I appreciate it."

[kindalikedit]

Now that he was actually slowly getting warmer, he could feel some feeling returning to his arms and legs. Dean maneuvered himself clumsily so that his back was against the wall, legs folded Indian-style as he clutched the blankets more tightly around him. He still felt sleepy, but it wasn't the same as before, where it felt heavy, pressing in on him and he'd had the feeling in the back of his mind that if he'd fallen asleep then, he wasn't gonna wake up. Still was hard not to nod off right in the middle of the conversation. Even as he listened to Ron, eyebrow raising almost skeptically, he told himself that he owed the guy 'cause of tonight.

There would be a limit to how big a favor Ron could call in, but so long as it didn't require killing people or messing with any black magic crap, Dean had his back.

Even if he had no idea what he was going on about with Time Gates. Warped sense of humor? He could get. Sounded like a Trickster, especially with the humor deal and being able to just pluck people from anywhere and mess around with him. Then again, Joe Normals like Ron shouldn't even know about them, which got him wondering. Time Gate sounded like something out of a bad sci-fi movie, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility to lose time or gain it. This was more Sammy's area, what with being a huge geek, in Dean's opinion. But even Dean knew there were accounts of people claiming they were from the past or present...although they were usually quickly proven to be hoaxes, it wasn't like this was entirely outta the blue. Dean chewed this over, watching Ron out from under half-closed eyes, seeming to be on the verge of konking out for the night.

"Pretty sure she didn't have wings or a tail," he finally said. "Then again, wasn't like I got a good look at her, she was usin' the fog as cover."

Ron sounded surprisingly unconcerned about the idea of a girl who might have a tail and/or wings. Dean had run into his fair share of supernatural crap, but there wasn't a lot of human-looking, real monsters out there with wings he could recall, except for the obvious. Angels. But the only angels he'd ever seen where the crappy plastic ones you busted out for Christmas, and, no disrespect for Sammy, but far as he was concerned, angels were just as much a hoax as Bigfoot, give or take a few thousand years. You wanted to pray to the imaginary, than go for it, if it helped you get through the day, whatever. As for tails...that did stump Dean. Werecat? Werewolves didn't have tails though, so why would werecats? If Ron had been a witness to some kinda weird creature, he was taking it way better than any civvie in their right mind should be. Dean was honestly starting to doubt if he was just a normal guy - he was starting to come across as one of the most balanced hunters he'd ever run into and that was saying something. You didn't get into this gig 'cause you were balanced.

Dean actually smiled, although it was a tired, somewhat feeble ghost of his usual grin, face still wan and bloodless. "Anytime, Ron. I know this ain't gonna mean much yet, but during the night, watch out for the rec field and the Sun Room," he paused, debating how much to admit. He couldn't just tell him to be careful. With ghosts, you either came prepared or you were dead meat. Maybe it was just recovering from that witch's cold spell crap, but Dean found that at the moment, he was looser about what he'd give away. "Word of advice and this's probably gonna sound all kinds of crazy, but if I were you, I'd get some salt. Keep it on you. And find some iron, it'll be your best defense if you go through the Sun Room."

If Ron needed salt, he could spot him. Least he could do was cough up some spare salt for the guy who just saved his ass from a potentially early trip downstairs.

[timeleaper.livejournal.com]

Dean was starting to look much better in Ronixis' opinion. He wasn't quite such a deathly white pallor, although he was still very pale. Hopefully he'd managed to get warm before any more lasting damage had been done. He was acting far more together and coherent now as well which was reassuring. If Dean had still been having trouble following movement and speaking then he would be more concerned. He still wished that he had Milly's... hell, any skill with healing heraldry so he'd be able to do something about those wounds. They couldn't be helping Dean with recovering. He still looked about ready to either pass out or fall asleep though. Ronixis wasn't convinced that letting him fall asleep so soon after suffering hypothermia was a good idea.

He nodded when Dean said that the woman hadn't seemed to have a tail or wings. So, not Featherfolk or Fellpool. Probably. Well, there were plenty of other creatures, even on Roak, that could use magic. Those demons which had followed Asmodeus for one. And there were thousands of other planets out there which could, in theory, have access to their own version of Heraldry and there was nothing to say that they couldn't be humanoid as well. Milly and Ratix looked pretty much human except for the ears and tails. Which left him in exactly the same position as he already was; pretty much clueless.

"I suppose there's the possibility that she could have changed shape as well," Ronixis replied thoughtfully. He'd heard from Iria and Ratix what had happened in Astral with the demon posing as a knight. It wasn't completely beyond the realm of posibility which meant the woman might have been a demon.

He nodded in response to Dean's advice, comitting those names to memory. "Right, rec field and the Sun Room, got it." He supposed that they must be the most dangerous points in the building, although he was still trying to get his head around the fact that this was supposed to be an asylum as well. He kind of wished that Iria was here to watch his back. She might have a better explanation for what had gone wrong to land them here. "Salt?" he asked, looking a little confused. What did salt and iron do?

[kindalikedit]

He didn't know about salt? Dean didn't care where you were from. If you were a hunter, that was pretty much the basics of the whole lifestyle. It didn't explain why he knew about shifters, though, but the way he said it, it sounded more like a theory than actual up close experience. Or, if he had any, he had to be the most green hunter he'd ever run up against if he hadn't even known about salt. Had he even put down anything or was this all just theories and myths to him still?

That or Ron was testing him, like he'd been testing Angel earlier. Dean was too tired and drained to care too much; if he had a job right now, it was making sure Ron got himself prepared.

"Sounds weird, but yeah. Salt," Dean made a lethargic nod toward the bag still lying near the door. He was amazed he'd actually managed to hold onto it, all things considered. "I saw some more in the kitchen's pantry, but if I were you, I'd get more and make a line at the door. It should protect you. If you see a girl with rope burns around her neck in the Sun Room, draw a salt circle around you and get inside."

He wasn't so sure about a shapeshifter. Apparently there was a shifter running around, but he needed some more solid information - like a pattern - and silver. Shit, what he needed to do was find his car, hope they hadn't found the arsenal hidden in his baby's trunk, and get some real weapons pronto. But right now he needed to get a second wind, and warn Ron about the spirit in the Sun Room without flat-out saying she was a friggen, honest to God ghost. Dean took a heavy breath, closing his eyes for a second and just enjoying the fact he was dry and slowly getting warm; he was never gonna take being dry and warm for granted ever again.

[timeleaper.livejournal.com]

Ronixis followed Dean's gaze towards the door where the bag of salt lay. It seemed a strange thing to suggest, something like the superstitions of Earth before science had effectively banished them to old habits which had never quite died out. Ronixis much preferred to trust in his own skills and those of his people, but he wasn't about to ignore any advice in such a situation. Earth's knowledge wasn't infallible by any means and he wasn't prepared to be caught out because of pride. "I'll bear that in mind," he agreed. Even if he was probably more likely to just use heraldry. It had worked well enough against demons and Asmodeus when he'd needed it. It was a strange place where salt could be a protection.

He smiled slightly. "I should be used to weird stuff by now," he murmured, shaking his head. First magic and monsters and lycanthropes and now salt as protection. He just hoped that he wouldn't ever actually get used to it. He liked being surprised by new things. He didn't know what would happen if one day he lost that sense of wonder he felt at discovering a new planet and a new race. Life just wouldn't be worth living in his opinion.

[kindalikedit]

Dean knew this wasn't gonna be comforting to Ron, but he wasn't gonna sugarcoat it. "Probably gonna get a lot weirder from here."

Speaking of salt. Much as it was dangerously comfortable to be bundled up in all these blankets, Dean didn't feel comfortable sitting here while he knew there were ghosts and demons out there. Probably wasn't a good idea to be moving about, but old habits died hard and he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna lay down a salt line like he'd just been saying they should. The hunter got up gingerly, was glad he could actually sorta-kinda walk on his own on what still felt like uneven footing, and knelt carefully next to the bag of salt (carefully 'cause he didn't want to tilt over and brain himself on the door just 'cause his coordination was shot). He reached in and pulled out a small handful of salt, expertly laying down a thin white line of it so that if the door was opened, the line wouldn't be disturbed.

"There," Dean said. He sat back, meaning to sit back on his heels, but miscalculated and ended up sitting down all the way on his butt. He tried to make it look like he'd meant to do that. "Takes about two seconds."

He sat there for a few minutes, wondering what he should do next. The smart thing would be to spend the rest of the night here, resting up, getting more energy for the day and night ahead. But he still had a lot of crap he needed to get if he was gonna get that demon Punk-Ass in a devil's trap and he wasn't gonna get any of that doing the smart thing; place like this, he reasoned they had to have some kind of storage or supply closet with duct tape or packing tape. Rope? Maybe not - he wished - but strong tape like that was a good second. He didn't think Punk-Ass could break his way through a Key of Solomon, but the freak was already immune to salt up close. Dean wasn't taking chances. He needed tape to make sure he wasn't going anywhere while he exorcised him. Glancing over at Ron, Dean debated what he should do with him. Again, smart thing was to leave him here with another salt line where he was for extra measure. But the guy had saved his life and if he was gonna try to search for supplies, it'd only be fair to give the guy a chance to get some stuff for himself.

That and it'd be easier to have two pairs of arms than one, but Dean kept that to himself. And Sammy said he had no tact.

Fact of the matter was he still had a hunt on his hands. The longer he waited, the more of a chance that the demon would remember him and he'd lose the element of surprise.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, wincing a little as he jostled the cuts, and stood up, working extra hard to keep his balance. "I'm gonna have to head out again, Ron. Could you do me a favor, check my jacket for a map?"

It'd been a copy of a copy, but he wouldn't be surprised it some of it was rendered crap from being soaked through. Still, he needed to know what was on the floors so he could try to look for a supply closet or something dealing with storage if he was gonna have any chance of finding some duct tape. Dean occupied himself with padding over to the closet, raiding whatever dry clothes he could find, pulling the drab Landel's overcoat over his sweater and t-shirt and not caring how retarded he looked. What was important was he was warm, if maybe not in the best shape he'd ever been. Too bad whoever made these maps hadn't thought to earmark them with "Ghosts here" or "Beware of Shapeshifter" or anything that would've given him a good warning of whatever might still be out there.

[Dean's gonna try to head for General Storage. Did you want Ronixis to come?]

[timeleaper.livejournal.com]

"Ah well, I'll just have to see what happens," Ronixis replied with his lips quirking up into an amused smile. After time-travel and demons and cat-people, it took a lot of weird to have an effect on him. He wasn't denying the possibility though.

Like this. He watched carefully as Dean walked slowly over the doorway of the room, ready to move if the other man happened to stumble or slip. He did seem very determined to do this and Ronixis supposed that he couldn't blame him one bit. He could be the same when he really wanted or needed to do something. The line of salt though, that still seemed very strange to him. He couldn't see how it would stop anything, but well, there were always things that a person didn't know. Maybe there was something with an extreme salt allergy? Still, Dean seem much more composed by now and less pale.

The assertion that Dean was going to head back out again, made Ronixis raise an eyebrow at the younger man. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked calmly, but still went over to look through the pockets of the jacket, quickly finding a rather battered and somewhat damp piece of paper which he assumed was the map. He went back over to Dean and passed it over. "There. I hope it's not too badly damaged though. It's rather damp."

I'd like to, yeah!

[kindalikedit]

Dean grunted. "No, but I'm doin' it anyway. It can't wait."

He took the map from Ron, carefully unfolding it and holding it as tight as he could so he wouldn't fumble and drop it. Surprisingly, some of it was still intact, although half of the first floor had been washed away, and the ink had run on part of the second. Still, some of it was legible enough to read, the hunter squinting at it and aware of Ron watching him without having to look up. It was pretty obvious Ron wanted to do the smart thing but while he might be either taking this really well or know a little something about something, he didn't know that Dean had a short window of opportunity here. That demon wasn't gonna exorcise itself. Checking out what remained of the map, it looked like there was some rooms ear-marked "general storage" and "extra storage", linked to a janitor's closet. It was possible there might be duct tape or something there. Dean folded the map - more like it folded itself, the wet paper not having much more of a shelf-life - and nodded.

"You want to come? Might find something useful up there," Dean said. He really doubted they'd just have some Glocks or extra bowies lying around. He gestured toward the leather jacket again. If he was gonna ask Ron along, he might as well get him armed. "There's a butter knife in the inside pocket."

As he talked, Dean moved back toward where Ron had left the bowie. He had recovered some feeling in his hands, but his dexterity was gonna be just as crappy as his coordination. They'd have to keep quiet and keep moving, otherwise they were gonna attract the attention of anything that might want to finish the job that witch in the rec field hadn't. Dean still felt crappy, weak in the arms and legs and just friggen tired, but he had to do this. Punk-Ass might have answers that could help him deal with Doctor Kisugi and help him find Sam. And, even if he didn't, it was just one more evil sonuvabitch that needed going down.

[timeleaper.livejournal.com]

That determination, it reminded him a little of Dorne before the virus had... well, before, even though Ronixis had only known him for a short time. He'd seemed like a very determined and headstrong young man. "Well in that case, far be it for me to stop you," Ronixis said with a smile. He just wouldn't let Dean go alone. He'd never forgive himself if Dean got mangled or collapsed after Ronixis had let him just walk off in the condition that he was in. It would be intolerable. He peered over the other man's shoulder at the crudely drawn and dog-eared map. Some of it was at least still readable, although most of it seemed to have been damaged by the water, leaving just ink smeared across the paper. Well, as long as Dean had some idea of where to go without needing the map the whole way. He had to wonder how big a building it could be to require maps for people to get around, especially a hand drawn one like this. He had to admit, he was curious to see more of the place, no matter where it was.

"I'll come along, yes," Ronixis replied, glad that Dean had offered rather than Ronixis having to insist on accompanying him. He looked a little confused at the mention of the butter knife though. What was he going to use that for? Still, he went to fetch it anyway, feeling rather bemused at the whole idea. "I admit, I don't tend to use knives as a weapon," he said with a touch of amusement, because a butter knife was not known for being any kind of weapon usually. "But thankyou." If something came, then he was far more comfortable with blasting them with a spell or two. Calling down lightning to rain death upon attackers was rather more effective in his opinion.

[kindalikedit]

Dean flicked a glance at Ron when he didn't stop him, but it didn't look like he was being sarcastic. Shit, he was really beginning to like the guy, and this wasn't just 'cause he'd pretty much saved his life, either. Normal civvies, they always demanded answers like "why", "who're you" and "where'd that gun come from" but Ron? Ron was a good guy. He didn't badger him with stupid questions or insist he absolutely had to come, like he'd be any more a pro at this compared to someone who routinely hunted this crap for a living. As civvies went, he was actually pretty cool. Dean gathered up the things he thought he'd need; flashlight, bowie knife, the soaked map, taking extra care to handle them all because of his crap state. He looked up when Ron admitted he didn't use knives.

"Knives are real simple. Sharp end goes in whatever you're stabbing...not that it's even got one, but you get the picture," he said, but grinned - it was tired, but still an honest grin - to show he wasn't totally dicking around with Ron. "Can't imagine it's got as much of a point as the bowie, but you stab it hard enough and you could probably make whatever's out there think twice - go for the soft spots like the eyes if we get attacked and then let me handle it. But if everything goes well, you won't even have to use it."

It was a pretty shitty weapon, sizing it up. But it was either that or tell him to use the flashlight and while the torches here had some bulk, you didn't want to go wasting it braining someone - or something - unless you had no other options at all and risking your light was the least of your problems at that point. Dean didn't think he'd be able to hold his own very long, but if they kept quiet and moved quickly, hopefully that shouldn't be a problem. If something did come up, they'd have to tag team. Dean wasn't much used to tag-teams, not unless you counted all the hunts with Dad and Sammy - the few times he'd teamed up with other hunters, it'd been just a job at best and Gordon Walker at the worst. Bobby was pretty much the only other hunter he could trust not to go stabbing him in the back or gunning for Sam. Dean still didn't know if Ron had any training at all, but he'd just have to assume he didn't - what he did have was just as valuable, though, because keeping a cool head and taking it in a stride like a badass was just as important as knowing how to break down a crossbow or where, exactly, you had to aim when you wanted to decapitate a vampire.

[timeleaper.livejournal.com]

The knife had a bit of a point at least, Ronixis was pleased to note, which was better than nothing, even if he doubted it would be the most effective of weapons. "So I gather," Ronixis replied with a grin in response to 'Stabbing Things 101'. "I have a friend who's a swordsman," he added after a moment. Well, two really. Ratix and Cyuss were both very impressive to witness on the field. They were dangerous men and Ronixis was proud to call them both friends. "I'm more of a bowman myself," he continued as he slipped the knife into his pocket and reached for the flashlight which he'd left on top of the desk earlier. "Crossbow, longbow. Anything really." He'd gone from it being a hobby to something essential for survival. Sometimes there just wasn't enough time to recite a spell in the midst of battle. "But I'm sure that I'll get the hang of it," he added with a grin.

"Do you need a hand up?" he asked, still concerned about Dean's health. Offering a hand up wasn't too pushy was it? People did it all the time, even when they hadn't been half dead from hypothermia half an hour ago.

[kindalikedit]

The man even know how to handle a crossbow.

Dean was in (not gay) love.

He'd been trying not to be impressed with Ron but seriously, he knew how to handle a crossbow, knew when to take no for an answer, and he hadn't freaked out helping him earlier. Why weren't all civvies this awesome? Sure he'd probably be out of a job, but man, all those times a civvie got hysterical or did something stupid or was just a general pain in the ass? Could've probably been halved if people got it through their heads that wigging out just made things worse, not better. The corner of Dean's mouth twitched, as if he was trying not to smile, and he just grunted. Technically all Ron said was he knew how to use one - proving he could was another thing entirely.

Dean waved away the offer of help. "I'm cool right now. Think I'm hittin' my second wind. But if I start feeling really crappy, I'll tell you, okay?"

It was a lot more than he'd give to a civilian normally. First of all, he knew and Ron knew Dean wasn't in great shape right now and second, so far he was liking Ron, and he knew if he might need help, Ron could probably handle that much. He'd already handled him when he was half-conscious. Dean thought he could walk but even that seemed more like a question in his mind than just being sure. With how his legs and whole body felt like Jello, he might actually have to take up that offer, he realized as he went to the door and opened it, stepping over the salt line. With all the layers, he felt like he was living in the Arctic or something, but it was either that or just rest up in the room. He could recover after he had Punk-Ass in that devil's trap.

"There's some stairs out in the Main Hall," he said over his shoulder as he stepped into the darkness. Dean had to brace himself with the wall as he waited for Ron to join him. Once his new "partner" was ready, Dean led the way down the dark halls, trying to at least make it to the Main Hall without having to go asking if that offer for help was still good.

[To here]

[Sorry, had to mod Ronixis as joining him/following since I totally just remembered I was going to link them out]