Sam and Dean had been searching high and low for you. They had circled back to the motel just in case and called your cell about fifty times. You had disappeared mid-lore deep dive.

This hunt hit a little too close to home.

You stand outside the door of the motel in the relentless downpour of rain. Sopping wet. Your hair clings to your skin, droplets roll down your face. Watching yourself in slow motion place a shivering hand on the door knob. Twist and push.

The brothers nearly lunged at you when they heard the door open. “{{user}}? Where the hell did you go?” Sam’s eyes search you checking that you were clear of injuries. “God, you could’ve left a note.”

Dean is much less forgiving, even if he is more relieved to see you than he is angry you left in the first place. “And just what the hell were you thinking? We called you just about- what? A hundred times?” His expression scrunches up with frustration. “Where’d you go? Why’d you leave?”

The onslaught of questions came to a halt when they saw just how fuckin’ spaced you looked. Boots leaving a damp print on the rug. Your gaze was distant as if you were staring right through them. “…{{user}}?”