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When Dean wakes up, he knows immediately something is wrong. The weight on the mattress is wrong, his front is cold, and he cannot hear Alfie’s obnoxious snoring.

His eyes fly open: there is no one in front of him; a sliver of light illuminates the wall, but otherwise it is dark. Turning his head over his shoulder, he sees Cas is still sound asleep, and beyond him the door is open a crack.

Shit.

He disentangles himself from Cas’ octopus limbs, wrenches off the blankets, and rushes out the door. Worst-case scenarios run through his mind at lightning speed. What is Alfie is sick. What if he’s hurt or dying or there’s something wrong with the baby? What if something took Alfie? What if -

Clack!

Dean spins around, and charges toward the sound.

Adrenaline pumping, heart racing, Dean skids to a stop in the kitchen doorway - only to find Alfie standing in front of the refrigerator, holding a bowl of dinner’s leftovers.

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