Dean heard her words echoing in his mind, as he sniffled away a couple of tears, trying to bring back his stoic nature enough to go through with grabbing his clothes and things.  If he thought the words over long enough, he would run back to her, and the cycle would start all over again.  He pressed the elevator button, pressing it harder and faster, wanting to punch it to make the elevator go faster.

As the doors finally opened, her last words played over in his head again, and he pulled out his phone, flipping it open and texting John.

[center] [i] “Trouble in Minnesota.  I need you to pick me up at the Castle Rock hotel, outside Minneapolis.
-Dean[/i][/center]

He flipped the phone closed, and leaned against the elevator wall, closing his eyes as another round of tears decided to escape onto his t-shirt, making dark blotches.  There was no way he wanted to leave, after all this time.  But it was obvious that what she wanted, was something he couldn’t realistically give her.  No matter how hard he tried to explain it, she had a different view of life, than he grew up with.  Nothing is permanent.  Not friends.  Not women.  No matter how much you care about them.

He stepped out of the elevator, dragging his feet as he stepped across the hall and unlocked their door.  He looked around the room, with cloudy eyes, quickly spying his bag on the floor.  Within a few minutes, he had reluctantly packed all his clothes back into the bag, leaving hers in a neat pile on the couch.

Dean stopped at the bedside table, seeing the pad and pen there.  He leaned down, picking up the pen, and wrote a simple note that she would understand.

[center] [i] “Come find me, when you figure out what home is.
It’s not that simple, for me.
-Dean”[/i][/center]

Blinking away one last tear, he turned and left the room, not wanting to linger too long.  He made his way down to the bar, knowing John would take a while to get to him, or even to answer his text.  His best bet was to relax, and grab a drink.  As he pulled up a stool, he dropped his bag with a ‘thud’ and held up his fingers, pointing at a top shelf bottle of whiskey.