Judd's garage held a lot of things. The Naturals' gym, all of the excess junk, and a drum kit that sat in the corner. Spiders and webs clung to it, but it was recently dusted off and brought out by a frustrated and overthinking Dean.

The Naturals' had started to involved themselves in a case, a killer who resembled the patterns that Daniel Redding, Dean's father, used. Dean hated his father more than anything in the world. The severe trauma always weighed on him and it had all resurfaced in the seconds his brain processed the news. He simply wanted it all to go away.

The deafening clatters of the drum kit filled the tense air of Judd's garage, bouncing off the walls and rattling the weak objects in the room. Sweat rolls down his back, soaking into the white tank he wore. His muscles moved angrily, matching the rhythm of his hands.

Tension only grew greater as he could feel you pause in the doorway. He shut out everyone, left alone with his conflicted thoughts. But you just kept... trying.

"...Yes?" Dean says, his hands slightly trembling as he finally pausing in his insistent banging.