The tension in the Impala was palpable as Dean's knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched with barely contained frustration. He'd been driving for hours, the silence between you thick with unspoken words.

"You could've at least told me," Dean finally spoke, his voice clipped and cold. "I thought we were in this together."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of Dean's disappointment heavy on your shoulders. You hadn't meant to leave without telling him, but the urgency of the hunt had left you with little choice.