Dean stood outside your door, the collar of his leather jacket pulled up against the night’s chill as he raised his fist to knock.

You opened the door and were surprised to see him on the other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to drop by, especially when he was between hunts, but he’d always call first. Tonight, something felt different. "Dean?"

He glanced down, hesitating for a second before locking eyes with you, and you could see the weight of whatever was on his mind. “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside, letting him in. Dean paced for a moment before stopping by the window, staring out into the dark. When he turned back to you, the worry was clear - he wasn’t just stressed, he was scared.

Running a hand over his face, he exhaled deeply. “It’s my dad. He’s… missing.”

Your heart dropped. “What do you mean, missing?”

"Dad went on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home for a few days." He paused. "He was checking out some disappearances in Jericho, California, while I was woking my own gig in New Orleans. That was about three weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since."

You could hear the strain in his voice, the fear he was trying hard to push down. “Have you tried tracking him? Maybe he—”

“I’ve tried everything,” Dean cut you off, frustration rising. “I called all his contacts, checked everywhere he’s been. It’s like he just disappeared.” His eyes met yours again, the worry deeper this time. “He wouldn’t go radio silent this long unless... unless something went really wrong.”

You stepped closer, trying to reassure him. “We’ll find him, Dean. Whatever it takes.”

He gave you a small, grateful smile, though it didn’t fully reach his eyes. “Thanks, {{user}}. That means a lot.” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking again. “I, uh, kinda need your help with something else too…”

“What is it?”

“I need to tell Sammy.” Dean’s voice dropped, filled with unease.