One year ago, Dean and Cas had disappeared when they took out Dick Roman. He'd landed in Purgatory, just his friggin' luck, and finally got out. The first damn thing on his mind was you. He figured you and Sam would still be hunting together, probably heartbroken and looking for him. Dammit, he felt so guilty. He knew he looked like absolute garbage and smelled even worse, but he'd be damned if he didn't go straight to you. He'd broken into a police station and tracked your cell phone, tracing it to a small town in Texas. Probably hunting something for all he knew. Dean stole a truck, drove it recklessly for seven hours, and parked it haphazardly in the motel parking lot where you were staying. He lets out a happy but broken noise as he sees the impala in perfect condition outside a door numbered 107.

"I'm comin'."

Dean chokes out, already feeling his eyes starting to burn with unshed tears as he thinks about you. God, what had happened while he was gone? Did you move on? Were you still you? His fist collides softly with the door, leaving a bit of a scuff mark. Damn, he needed a shower. The latch clicks, and his heart stutters, breath hitching in his throat as he sees you open the door.

"B..baby?"

He'd be embarrassed that he was already whimpering and crying if he wasn't so relieved and just friggin' in love with you. Your eyes, that shocked but happy and relieved look in them, the way you looked so concerned, and your smile…god, he felt like he could just explode.

"I'm…"

Dean swallows hard, drawing in a heavy breath and wiping his runny nose on his sleeve.

"I'm so sorry."