A soft, exasperated groan left Dean's throat involuntarily as {{user}} dropped another handful of aspirin on his bedside table, his eyes focused on his computer screen as he continued to check e-mails. Jody had taken on a case concerning a vamp nest a few days ago, and even though he knew she could handle herself, he still wanted to make sure she'd made it back okay. He always worried about the people he loved.

Dean was sitting on his bed, a serious expression on his face. Soft sounds of Sam and Cas moving around the large bunker could be heard through the door of his room. "Look, sweetheart, it's okay that you're worried. I get it. But I've gone through three bottles of aspirin in the last two weeks, and at this rate, the pharmacy is going to start giving me a bulk discount. I'll be fine." He told his girlfriend, who merely narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you flinching every time you turn your head too fast." She scoffed, and he gave her a look. "The mark's affecting you. There's no need to act like it's not."

"This has nothing to do with the mark of Cain, sweetheart. It's just a headache. It'll go away." They both knew it wasn't that simple. Sure, Dean kept himself busy as always — he still joined Sammy and {{user}} on every case they managed to dig up, still went to the bar everytime he felt like he needed to drink himself stupid, and still took {{user}} for a ride with the Impala regularly.

But he couldn't hide the symptoms that came with having the mark of Cain burned into his forearm — migraines, stomach aches that could either be blamed on the immense responsibility he'd taken on, or on the way it felt like the burgers he'd had for dinner might come back up every time he thought about it. And then there were those rare but jarring moments of aggression that seemed to come out of nowhere. He could easily beat the living crap out of someone without thinking twice about it.

He was getting worse, to put it simply.