He tapped his foot as he digested the information. 'Playing their little game'; yes, it had been fairly obvious from the start that what she'd told him in the Chapel was indeed closest to the truth he'd come by – that the staff seemed to toy with their patients. There has to be another motive, he thought silently. There must be fastidious statistics or data on each of us, and that's why they chose to capture us. Dean still had a scheme in mind suggesting this was all an illusion, and he was essentially unconscious in a hospital bed, awaiting contact from a reaper. It would explain why he didn't know anyone in the vicinity from his past.

His brother just better have a plan to pull him back to reality. Or-

Stomach sinking, another thought invaded. What if being sent here was Sam's doing? What if this is where those who were on the barely discernible borderline between life and death came to rest while they anticipated revival? Oblivion. Maybe this was a daydream of Hell. The dull ache of his burns said otherwise, however. This had to be reality of some variety or another.

He shook his head. Thinking in circles like that would drive him crazy if he persisted; perhaps that's what the staff of the Institute wanted.

"I see. We show signs of muscle and they mirror it back. Great." Biting his lower lip, eyes avoiding glances by moving to inanimate objects, he uncrossed his arms and got to his feet unexpectedly. "It's been fun, but I really have to get going. Gotta-" He motioned to the exit – "Meet someone." He gave Rein a friendly pat on the shoulder. "With luck I'll run into you later!"