Dean sat at the nearly empty bar, five empty shot glasses in front of him and an empty beer mug beside them. He stared listlessly at nothing as he waited for another shot to be brought to him.

All around him, couples were sitting close together, a few hovering near what had been the dance floor a couple hours ago. He kept his eyes glued to the leather bracelet on his left wrist, even thought it only magnified the horrible ache in his chest.

Nowhere he could look prevented the ache from growing; there was only one thing on his mind.

It was Beck, a million miles from him, risking her neck to get a threat off of his back. He couldn't help but wonder if she was somewhere missing him like he was missing her.

/-/

It'd been three weeks since she'd last seen Dean. The only thing that made her okay with being so far from him was the fact that she knew she was protecting him by doing so.

She'd told him that it would be a quick trip, just to track down a couple of hunters who'd decided the Winchesters were a bigger threat than any monster. The truth was, those hunters were after her, and she was leading them away from Dean an his brother.

Beck knew she'd be no match for them if they caught up to her, and she was in a constant game of keeping them on her track but staying just ahead of them.

As she sat at a dimly lit bar, downing her sixth shot, she wondered if he was out there, thinking of her.