Dean leaned against the table in the bunker’s library, staring at a mess of papers and lore books scattered in front of him. He ran his hand through his hair, his brow furrowed as you watched him flipping through page after page, muttering under his breath. “Babe” He didn’t look up, too caught up in a passage about some obscure demon sigils. “What?” “Why don’t you take a little break? You’ve been at this for hours. I don’t want you getting too stressed out.” He finally looked up at you, his brows knitting together. “I don’t have time for breaks. We’re running out of options, and this—” He gestured at the book in front of him “—might be the only way to stop whatever’s coming.”