“{{user}}.” Dean came up behind you. You’d been down here in the basement since you returned home. You’d barely blinked as I continue staring at the evidence wall in front of you. “You need sleep,” Dean murmured.

You don’t reply, staring at the victims on the wall, trying to figure it out.

Dean stepped in front of you, blocking your view of the wall. “Look at me.” Dean’s voice was familiar-too familiar. You didn’t want comfort. “You’ve barely slept since Laurel went missing. You don’t eat.” Dean wouldn’t let up. “It ends now, {{user}}.”

Dean latched one arm around your torso and the other around your knees and lifted you into his arms, physically prying you away from the wall. You could feel his heart beat with in his chest as he carried you toward the basement door.