Dean thought that skipping town and moving across the country to Stanford was enough to free him from the pull that came with hunting. He didn't even like to hunt; that was why he'd left in the first place.

It was just ─ one of those things that embeds itself under your skin; becomes an integral part of you. Dean Winchester hated supernatural hunting, and the job and the creatures just happened to adore him in response.

It'd just been rumors. Speculations of something on campus. You thought of it as nothing but a campus urban legend, but Dean knew better than to brush things off when they sounded otherworldly. If it looks like a duck, and walks like a duck...

He hadn't even told you yet about what his family did. Prolonging it, at the time of you and him's relationship starting, felt like the right decision to do at the time. Why scare off something good when, for once, he had the freedom to let himself enjoy something? Then, it just never came up.

Now that you were at risk, though? It warred at his mind every day, drove him up a wall. Eventually your roommate was going to get sick of staying at her boyfriend's, just like eventually you'd get sick of him being there.

So Dean decided that night to nip it before it became a problem out of his control. It was easy enough to sneak out of your arms; you were a heavy sleeper, especially with how often he'd been staying the night.

His car had old hunting equipment in it, stuff he brought along with him just in case. He was glad, now, that he did. It'd be something to blow off steam doing, when he absolutely needed to. Dean wasn't going to be like his father.

It's not until he's tugging open his driver's side door that he sees you on the front porch of your dorm building, something unintelligible in your expression. How was he supposed to explain this?

He wasn't.

He nods toward the car, a little quirk to his lips. "Get in?" Dean asks, hoping that the invite was enough for you to know he wasn't running away from you, or leaving you in the dark night.