Dean furrowed his brow at the front door, which was sitting open a couple inches. It was with a great sense of foreboding that he reached a hand out and nudged it open the rest of the way. His face dropped and his stomach clenched into a knot as he saw your normally ordered house in a state of complete disarray.

His boots crunched over broken glass and ground it into the wood floor as he stepped farther inside. Furniture and lamps were toppled over from whatever struggle had taken place. He dreaded moving farther in, afraid that he would find you sprawled somewhere and–he couldn’t even think it. He was suddenly living his worse nightmare.

Oh God. Okay… Keep it together, Dean. Y/N isn’t here. Okay… not here. Now what?

His teeth clenched as he tried to think frantically of who or what could have come after you and where you might be. He needed a plan of action. He wouldn’t rest until he’d found you.