That night you found yourself too pent up with emotion and energy to sleep, even though you were utterly exhausted from your ordeal. Sam had left your room, promising that you would leave first thing in the morning on your quest to find Abaddon.

Laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling, you thought about your life so far, how nothing had ever been easy or normal. Growing up, you played with knives and guns, learning how to shoot before you could ride a bike, naming all the monsters while you learned your alphabet. Maybe not the greatest childhood, but it had been yours, and you had been loved by two amazing parents.

After they had died, you had thought your heart would never be able to love again, that the death of your parents had left too wide a hole to ever fill. Boy had you been wrong, Dean had come swooping in, filling that hole, making your heart swell to the point of bursting with love. It was an easy romance, as easy an any hunters relationship could be.

Thats what made it so hard to see him like this, your kind, funny, but ruthless hunter now cold, and detached, a shell of the former hero. It was terrifying, and you weren't sure how much more you could handle.

Tossing onto your side, you watched the numbers on the clock move, inching towards the time when you could get up and get ready to leave. Your eyelids never drooping, you watched as the numbers grew closer to morning, and finally you had had enough and you decided to get an early start.

Throwing your covers back, you climbed out of bed, groaning at how stiff and sore your entire body was. Stumbling in the dark to your bathroom, you flipped the light switch and gasped. The person in the reflection looked nothing like you. Your once long and shiny beautiful hair was a ragged birds nest atop your head, your eyes surrounded by dark circles, giving away the fact that you had spent a few nights restless and awake. Your cheek was a brilliant mess of blue and purple, a nasty bruise had formed overnight. Your lip was split, making smiling near impossible. And that was just on your head, you were petrified to see the rest of your body. Peeling your shirt gently off, you winced at the sight before you. Both breasts were covered in purple, and blue, some in the shape of fingertips, others a wide circle of color. Your stomach was scraped from your tussle on the table, and more bruises were peaking from your sweatpants. You were not a pretty sight, and it broke your heart that Dean had caused this.

"Are those all because of me?" His deep voice sounded from behind you, filled with pain, causing you to jump. Grabbing your discarded shirt, you covered yourself, needing to feel some sort of barrier between Dean and you.

You glanced warily at him, unsure what type of Dean you were dealing with this early in the morning. Stubble graced his chin, his eyes matching yours with black circles underneath. He was standing in the door frame, his hands nervously playing with the handle. He seemed so lost, and unsure, that for a moment you felt yourself stepping forward, ready to console him. Then you remembered, he was volatile, and you were still wearing the bruises to prove it.

So instead you stayed where you were, your shirt bunched in front of your chest, your knuckles white from holding it so tightly, as you answered his question with a quiet nod of your head.

Upon seeing your answer, Dean groaned, running his fingers through his short hair. "Damn it!" He cussed, and you jumped, afraid he might attack you once again.

Noticing your nervousness, he quickly apologized, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. "I'm so sorry Baby. I can't believe I would do something like that, to you of all people."

"Dean I." You started, then stopped, not knowing what to say. You knew this had changed your relationship, and nothing you could do, or say, would change that fact.

"I get it. And I also understand if you want me gone. As soon as this hunt is over, we will figure something out, I promise. And I won't allow myself to be alone around you, it would kill me if I did something else to you." Dean said, tears forming in his eyes at the realization that because of the mark he had probably lost you.

Just then Sam burst through the door, his long brown hair standing on end, as he glanced quickly between the two of you, checking to make sure you were alright. "I'm sorry Y/N, I was keeping an eye on him, but he slipped out. Is everything okay?"

You nodded yes, even though nothing was fine, and wouldn't be, not until that Knight of Hell was killed once and for all. Because of that, your relationship was on the rocks, and might never be salvageable.

"Good, we leave in 20." He replied, before grabbing Dean and forcefully removing him from your room.

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20 minutes exactly, you were sitting in the back seat of the Impala, ear buds in as Dean pulled the Impala out off the garage. Turning your music up loud enough to drown out the rest of the world, you turned to gaze out the window, settling in for one of the longest, most awkward car rides of your life.