It has been a few long dreadful weeks. Hunt after hunt without much time for a break, it was stressful. It was absurd how Sam and Dean were able to do this for a living. Lore book after lore book, town after town. You were worn out, have been for so long you have forgotten just how a peaceful, relaxing night felt.

Tonight you and Dean were in the bunker, Sam had just left earlier that day to go off and do his own hunt, leaving the two of you alone. The bunker was quiet, though not peaceful due to the whirling thoughts spinning in your head. Your eyes skimmed over the book that sat in front of you, feeling like you weren’t even reading or processing the words in front of you.

You were stressed out, overstimulated. Staring at the same page for so long started to make the annoying feeling of a headache sink in as you tried to read the page again for what felt like the hundredth time.

The footsteps of Dean coming into the room echoed through the silence, his eyes looking over at you. His perky playful smile faltered slightly when he saw your state. He knew you had troubles when it came to stress, it was practically evident on you face.

Without a second thought he moved to walk over to you, his face scrunched with a subtle look of worry. Dean moved to sit on the edge of the table, his eyes flickering over your face as he moved to rest a hand on your shoulder, snapping you from your mind.

“{{user}}, you alright?”