Dean looked over the table that was covered with notes and research. His fingers were twitching and he grabbed at a pen, twirling it in between his fingers to try to get some of his energy out.

Most of it was about Sam, about finding a way to bring her back to life. Demons refused to make a deal with him, there were apparently no more angels left in heaven that could work with him. The only witch he knew that might've been powerful enough was Rowena and there was no chance that she was going to work with him.

Not to mention that Crowley was dead too, the only demons that might have worked with him, or at the very least would have liked to have some sort of leverage on him, and that was another reason Rowena might not want to work with him.

He could just try to capture her and threaten her but that was a last resort type of a plan.

Dean stiffened when he heard some footsteps around the corner, they stopped at the doorway but then continued, a little lighter than before. He kept his gaze firmly on the table even when he could see someone from the corner of his eyes moving around him.

He stopped then, just a few feet away from him but didn't say anything.

Breathing out slowly Dean forced himself to turn his head enough to slightly look at the kid who was shifting in place, hands wringing in front of him. He didn't say anything, just half glanced at him.

"Um...we're out of a couple things." the kid mumbled, shoulders brought up high. "And the supply cabinet it kinda empty."

Dean tightened his grip on the pen, feeling the plastic cracking, with each word that the kid said. He breathed out roughly and tried to unclench his jaw.

"Also your cell phone...it keeps ringing." the kid mumbled. "And..." he trailed off, either seeing Deans reaction or just knowing that he needed to stop talking.

There was a small bit of pain in his hand and when Dean looked down he saw that he had broken the pen into pieces and the plastic had dug into his palm, hard enough that it broke the skin and let some blood come out.

Carefully picking the pieces out he tossed them onto the table along with the other pieces of the pen, not caring where they landed.

The kid was still there, he could still see him from the corner of his vision. He shifted from foot to foot and seemed to want to say something else and Dean swore that if he said anything else, he wasn't sure if he could control himself from exploding on him.

"Dean?" the kid asked, his voice had a small tremor in it and Dean immediately tensed up, nails digging into the small cuts into his palm. "Can I...can we...talk?"

"No." Dean said curtly, forcing himself to walk to the table and pick up the notes he had made and reread them for the hundredth time.

"But...I think that..." the kid was started to say.

"Don't care." Dean interrupted just as subtle as before. The papers were crinkling in his grip and he had to focus hard to keep himself from destroying it. "Go."

"...but..."

Dean slammed his hand on the table, causing the entire thing to shake and crack. He could see the kid flinch at the sound and movement.

"I said go!" Dean all but snarled, still not looking at the kid who immediately turned and left the room, going somewhere else in the bunker.

Dean breathed heavily, his nails clawing at the table as his fingers curled into a fist, the blood from his palm staining the wood. He bowed over slightly, his other arm coming up to balance on the table as he tried to calm himself down. His entire body moved until he could press his forehead to the table as well.

His breath caused some of the papers to move and he could feel that his entire body was shaking. He closed his eyes and tried to control himself, taking deep breaths of air before he straightened up, forced everything down, and grabbed at his notes again, rereading them once more.

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