Dean was not feeling good. No, he was fucking pissed. Better yet— no, he was outraged, fucking red in the face.

This kid should be in the Guinness book of World Records. World record for the shortest amount of time in giving Dean grey hairs.

Sam and him were only gone for a quick 4 days, they came home to the bunker early since it was an easy case— way easier than they had originally expected. Not that they’re complaining, they love days when God’s not shoving a big pile of life in their face.

But something was missing. The bunker was too quiet, to clean— god knows her daughter was messy.

Fuck. She was missing. His daughter was missing. No trace of her anywhere, not even her room. Okay, that’s a red flag.

So, here he is for at least 2 fucking hours, pulling his hair out because his daughter is no where to be seen— blaming himself like a bat outta hell.

Then they come home. Ohh boy, they come home.

“{{user}} what— what the hell were you thinkin’, huh? You tryna give me ulcers before I even hit fifty? Sit your ass down.” He barked, pointing to a chair at the map table. The main room was quiet, save for Deans yelling.

They were in for an earful.