Dean’s eyes snapped open and he sat up quick, his chest heaving, the sound of his own ragged breathing filling his ears. He looked around. Relief rushed through him when he realized he was in his own room, in the bunker. Just a nightmare. A really odd nightmare, but a nightmare nonetheless, and nothing Dean wasn’t used to by now. He rubbed a hand down his face, wiping the sweat from his brow, and he stood up with a sharp exhale that escaped his lips. He looked over to his nightstand; 9 am. Damn he’d slept in. He was covered in sweat and still not quite feeling back to normal, but he stood up anyway and he left his room to check on you. His nightmare was.. visceral, to say the least. He had to see with his own eyes that you were okay.

He knocked on your bedroom door. No answer. He didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he cracked the door. “{{user}}, you good?” No response. He furrowed his brow and went to say something else as he stepped inside, but all the color drained from his face when he saw your room empty. Completely void of any of your things. He rushed out of the room and found Sam in the library, acting as if nothing were wrong.

“Sam. Where is {{user}}?” Dean asked, his brow set, his eyes darting around, scanning the bunker.

Sam huffed a small chuckle and raised a brow, looking up from his book. “Dean, I don’t know the name of every woman you hook up with, man. Which one is that?”

“Not funny. Where the hell are they?” Dean said, now getting irritated.

Sam furrowed his brow now, taking note of Dean’s sweaty and disheveled appearance. “Uh.. Dean, are you.. you good?”

“No, I’m not good, Sammy. Stop dickin’ around. {{user}} isn’t in their room, and all of their things are just.. gone. Completely gone,” Dean said gruffly.

Sam raised his brows and stood up now, walking over to Dean with a truly concerned look. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, man. I’m not playing with you. I don’t know who you’re even talking about,”Sam said, his eyes scanning Dean.