"Damnit!" Dean stops himself as he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down at his boots while he sits on his bed in the crappy motel room. You left hunting on your own a couple of months ago, because of issues with your family, and for the past month Dean has been trying to call you to catch up with you. But it always hits voice-mail, and he never leaves you a message. Something changes tonight. "Hey. Uhm, so, it's me --- Dean. How are you doing? Call me back, alright?"