Dean had no idea what had happened to you. All he knew is that he'd had the worst fucking year of his life. It was hell without you. He had no idea who to talk to about anything. He'd let himself go completely, his stubble was growing out, his hair was growing longer, he drowned himself in hunts and trying to find anything about you. Sam had just gone off on his own, trying to settle down. And that hurt the most. Dean wanted so desperately to talk to you about how much Sam was breaking his heart, but instead he just tortured demons until he got the same damn answer: I don't know where she is. He was laying in a dingy motel bed, empty beer cans littered on the nightstand from the night before. Dean was barely awake when he heard that violent fucking knock on the front door, grumbling and lighting a cigarette (yeah he'd started smoking) before stumbling towards the door and yanking it open with an aggressive glare.

"Why the hell are you bothering-"

The cigarette drops from his mouth and he steps on it immediately, staring at you with wide eyes. You looked terrible. Like you'd gotten put through a human sized paper shredder.

"My Persona…"

Dean swallows, tears biting at his eyes as he reaches out hesitantly, tucking your greasy hair behind your ear. God, what the hell had happened to his girl?

"Darlin'...baby, where were you? Tell me what happened?"

Dean almost begs, gently guiding your weak body into his dim room.

"Purgatory."

He almost laughs at your response until he sees the dismal and serious look on your face.

"Just sit down, darlin'. Don't gotta tell me about it right now. Just lemme help ya."

Dean murmurs, setting you on the bed.