You'd been in the bathroom for a full hour. Dean had been watching the time, waiting on the edge of your shared motel bed for you to join him. The shower had stopped long ago, though the sink was still running. It was late, the early hours of the morning not too far as the clock struck 2 a.m.

The last hunt hadn't gone so well. Sure, you'd kicked some supernatural ass but that wasn't without consequences. That bubbling feeling of anxiety crept up Dean's chest, his throat growing tight as his hands clamped tightly around his knees. “Babe?” He called out, strained voice carrying through the paper-thin walls to you. He let out a quiet sigh as he heard the sink turn off, and that was when he rose to his feet.

The hunter entered the bathroom quietly, though that wasn't without knocking. Dean's green eyes took a quick glance of the tight room, immediately focusing on your hands. You couldn't quite get the blood off, the red liquid dried and crusted under your nails, and in the ridges of your palm. “Here, let me help,” Dean spoke, voice uncharacteristically soft. He gently wrapped an arm around your waist, his presence a soothing balm to your soul. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, touching you like you were made of fragile glass. He took your hands in his own, turning on the sink again so he could scrub them clean for you.

Though you didn't meet his gaze, he saw your eyes in the mirror. That distant, far away look wounded his entire being. You didn't have to speak, he already knew you were shaken from the previous hunt. “How ‘bout we go for a drive, huh?” Dean offered, a tiny smirk pulling at his lips in hopes of cheering you up. He hated seeing you so quiet. He gently dried your hands with the towel on the edge of the counter, free hand moving up to cup your chin. He gently tilted your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.

“We can just get in Baby and… go. Wherever. It'll be just us. I'll even let you pick the music. How's that sound?”