There aren't many things that make Dean's blood run cold in an instant, but a certain kind of howling definitely does the trick. It's a ways off, and he's tempted to steer them in the direct opposite trajectory — until he hears the sounds that follow. The snarls, the whines, the tussle of something dying. That's not the kind of ruckus he can ignore.

They move closer, and closer — and then the sounds go silent.

He murmurs a soft wait here to Ciri, complete with a gently appealing, pleading look if it doesn't seem like she's keen to listen, and then heads off down a dark corridor as silently as he can manage.

The blood comes into view first, the carnage, the animal corpses, the otherwise invisible body he only notices because of the way blood clings to something where there should be nothing — and then the exhausted duo slumped against the wall. It's knee-jerk panic that has him scoping out Jo before he says anything, tracking his eyes over her stomach just to make sure it's not-

But she's fine.

They both are.

They're both fine, and sitting in companionable proximity? On... purpose. What the hell.

That's a weird enough realization to prompt him into ambling forward again, and he announces himself with a grim, "You two look like crap."