"It's quiet," says Dean, echoing Castiel's thoughts. Even in the most remote of motels, he could still hear the road, the rumble of the ice machines, the click of doors locking all around him.

Now as he pulls into the space and cuts the engine, all that greets them is cicadas and wind moving through the leaves. "It'll take some getting used to."

Dean tugs off his seatbelt. "If there's cameras, I'm putting on a show."