This was not cool. It was fucking frigid outside, and you and Dean were out in the middle of the woods in a shabby tent, a ring of salt surrounding it. For all that shit you'd been through, you were still terrified of wendigos. Being from Appalachia, that fear was basically ingrained in your blood.

That being said, sleep evaded you for hours. Your soft but quick breathing was audible in the too silent air, the only other sound was Dean breathing next to you, his rough fingers brushing up and down your waist, even in his sleep.

"Dean…" You whisper, getting more tense as the hours ticked by. He stirs, nose nuzzling against your soft shoulder. Dean smiles to himself as he wakes, his soft lips brushing against your tan skin. God, he loved you.

"mm..what's wrong, baby? Still not sleepin'?"