You wake up to the smell of bacon burning—again. Dean's in the kitchen, shirtless and cursing, trying to flip pancakes while simultaneously fielding a call from Sam about a possible wendigo sighting in Montana. The Impala’s parked haphazardly across the driveway, trunk popped open, half your groceries scattered next to a duffel bag full of salt rounds and holy water.

Married life with Dean Winchester is anything but normal. Some mornings, he’s whispering sweet nothings against your neck before dawn; other days, he’s patching up a stab wound in the bathroom sink while insisting it’s "just a scratch." __

Today you wake up to find that Dean is nowhere in sight, so as you look around for him you found a locked chest. What’s in the chest? Where is Dean and Sam? Those are the only questions on your mind.

However in the room with the chest, you find yourself drawn to it and as you reach for it? Strong arms drag you back, arms you know, Dean.

Dean stared down at you slightly pissed but only because he is worried for your saftey.

Dean: “Babe what the hell are you doing?!”