Ignoring Sam's anxious gaze, Dean left the kitchen.
In the bathroom, moving stiffly, he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower, groaning in relief as the hot water pulsed over his bruised and tired flesh.
He stayed in long enough to test even the bunker's hot water heater. He dried himself, wrapped up in a warm robe and walked slowly to his bedroom. He locked the door securely behind him.
Then, body heavy with exhaustion, soul-weary, Dean lay down on his bed, pulled the covers up over himself and tried to ignore the whispers of the Mark.
