you and dean had had a pretty nasty fight. like always. you both were too stubborn for your own good, so you’d not talk for days, just hoping the other would soften up and apologize first. obviously, that never worked. this time was different. you had given yourself up for bait on the latest hunt, so obviously dean was upset. he blew up and stormed off to the nearest bar. he hears his phone buzz.

“dean. i’m sorry, but i need your help. i don’t think we really got rid of it. please help me.”

as soon as he heard your panicked voice he set down enough money to cover his tab and walked to the impala. as he drives all he hears is the light ‘pitter patter’ of the soft rain and his own anxious thoughts flooding into his brain of what might happen to you.