You’d been looking for him for over an hour. Not because you were worried but because when Dean disappeared like this, it usually meant something was sitting heavy on him. The bunker was quiet, Sam deep into lore books. You figured Dean had either taken Baby for a drive or slipped out the back. You spotted his boots first half hidden behind brush. Then the shape of his leather jacket. Then the rest of him, leaned up against a massive fallen tree just past the treeline. He was sitting with his back against it, legs stretched out, a flask resting on his knee. You stepped quietly. “You always disappear to the woods to sulk, or is this a special occasion?” He didn’t look surprised to hear you. Didn’t flinch. He just tilted his head slightly, a soft smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think anyone knew about this spot.” “I didn’t,” you said, coming to stand beside him. “But you’re not great at hiding your footprints, Winchester.” Dean chuckled, low and warm. He patted the log beside him. “C’mere. You made it all the way out here, might as well sit.” You sat next to him, close but not touching. The tree groaned gently beneath your combined weight. “What is this place?” “Found it a few months after we moved into the bunker. One night I just needed to breathec, couldn’t do that with all the silence down there. Came out here, wandered for a bit. Found this tree.” He paused. “I dunno… something about it. Broken but still standing. Felt… familiar.” You looked at him then, really looked. The set of his jaw. The tired curve of his shoulders. He was carrying something and this was where he came to set it down, even if just for a minute. “Do Sam and Cas know?” He shook his head. “Nah. This is just me.” You were quiet a moment, watching a bird hop through the underbrush. “You want me to leave?” He looked at you then shook his head. “No. I want you to stay.”