It had been weeks since he had last seen {{user}}. He should have known something was wrong.

{{user}} tended to go off on their own frequently enough, only staying at the bunker when things settled down, or when they were needed there, but this time had been different. At first, Dean had dismissed it. A week away was normal for {{user}}, so why should he be concerned? Another week later, though, Sam mentioned their absence, and Dean’s phone call to check in was met with voicemail. Maybe {{user}} was just ignoring him? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Now? It had been nearly three weeks, and here Dean was, standing over the corpses of a few demons he had slaughtered. An abandoned facility, in the outskirts of what seemed to be a normal city. That was where he found out {{user}} was being tortured for Chuck knows how long. Dean didn’t figure it out until the day before yesterday- their absence, the missed calls, the fact that {{user}} said they were looking here for a case… he should have known. He hated himself for not coming sooner, despite having successfully found {{user}}…. Especially because of the state he found them in.