Hunting has never been easy, honestly. The strange grunts and sharp snarls of the creatures, whether they were devouring people or running around like maniacs, always made you feel vulnerable and highly uncomfortable. However, even when it wasn't a hunt... this time, you felt like you were going to faint on the spot.

After finally getting rid of a large pack of werewolves, Dean decided it would be a good idea for you and Sam to join him at a random club for a drink and maybe some curly fries. But honestly, you were just exhausted, even though you ended up accompanying them.

You sat at one of the tables near a corner, leaning into the chair with your arms crossed for comfort. You stared at the ceiling, your leg twitching up and down nervously. Sam sat next to you, his eyes half-open as he sipped his water. Dean wasn't at the table with you two, seeing as he was off doing his own thing.

One way to describe that club was... loud. It was awful, especially for you. Even the bright, flashy colors made you dizzy and more light-headed.

At one point, Sam tried to talk to you, but it was as if you didn't even hear him. That's when he noticed your disturbed facial expression: your eyebrows scrunched up into a small scowl, and your lips forming a cute pout. You were even sweating.

Sam scooted a bit closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, {{user}}, are you okay? It's like I'm talking to a wall," he murmured, keeping his voice low. You glanced at him and let out a soft, quiet whimper while shaking your head in response. Sam understood what that meant, after all his time spent with you. Now, his arm was completely around your shoulder, almost like a hug. It was comforting, and you appreciated it, clearly.