He was on his last straw.

Dean had been hunting {{user}} for the last goddamn week and he couldn't catch them. They were a vampire and they'd been getting on his last nerve. Every time he'd think he'd caught up to them, they'd already be moved onto the next state, causing havoc in whatever town they were in.

He had caught onto them by mistake, going to hunt something else and stumbling upon the mess they'd made in the small town. So, while Sam hunted the monster they were after, Dean went after {{user}}.

For days, he tracked them. He followed each and every move they made, trying to make sure that when the time came, he could get to them. Dean finally reached them when he saw them walking into an old abandoned warehouse one night, looking around trying to make sure no one was tailing them. Clearly, the couldn't figure out that Dean was hiding in his car in the bushes next to the warehouse.

He watched them go in before he reached behind him, grabbing the machete from the backseat. With another huff, he opened the door of his car and climbed out, shutting the door quietly behind him and started to make his way into the warehouse.

The sight he saw when he got in there wasn't what he was expecting.

There, against the far wall in the warehouse, stood {{user}}, waiting almost expectantly for him to say something. Dean crossed the room until he was almost in the middle of it, a good distance away, but not too far to where he couldn't talk to them.

"I'll tell ya what," he started, running a hand across his jaw, "you don't make it easy to find you. Like, at all."