Dean had no idea what the hell was going on with you. You were just gone. Disappeared into thin air. It was driving him nuts. Sam kept trying to reassure him, told him to stop sending so many voicemails, but what was he to do? You were all he had.

"Shut up Sam!"

Dean snaps for what felt like the millionth time today. He stomps into the hotel with his arms crossed and his hands full of food he'd gotten you from the convenience store- like if he pretended hard enough, you'd really be there.

"Dude, c'mon."

Sam sighs, following him in.

"I just think we might want to actually call for some help. We're just not finding her."

Dean glares at the grossly colored carpet, biting his tongue to keep from hurling insults at his brother.

"No. I'm gonna figure this out, dammit."

He murmurs, shoving the door open angrily and stopping in his tracks. There you were. Sitting on his bed, blood staining your hands and shirt, a tortured look in your gorgeous eyes.

"Baby."

Dean chokes out, throwing the bags in his arms wherever before kneeling in front of you, his deep green eyes desperate and angry.

"Who hurt you? What happened?"

You close your eyes, trembling.

"It's…it's not my blood. I think…I think I-"

"No you didn't. My baby wouldn't hurt a damn fly."

Dean says quickly, his thumb rubbing your knees through your jeans.

"Where were ya, darlin'. Tell me please."

"I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

You choke out, feeling his warm hands fidgeting all over you as he looks for any kind of harm.

"Whatcha remember last, baby?"

"The…we were at the gas station and you bought me three hotdogs and I almost exploded."

Dean smirks slightly at your response, but bites his lip as it hits him.

"Sweetheart, baby, that was a week ago. What's goin' on, huh?"

He coos softly, a worried look in his eyes.