There had only been a few occasions in his life that Dean had ever been a solid sleeper. Well, maybe more than a few. After every case. After every closed door, he had a habit of sleeping like a baby. Because he knew that spot, was probably the safest of any on earth, in that moment. Just for that one night. It was rare for two things that went bump in the night to strike the same town in the same week. And if they did, it just meant something worse than what they were after was just around the corner.
But lately, Dean hadn't been sleeping solidly. Sure he slept. And he didn't have a gun, or a knife, under his pillow. He hadn't since he made their 'hunter' room out of the room they hadn't been using. With promise of turning it into a kids room if they ever had another. He knew the time was close. He knew Jack would be meeting the world pretty soon, and he was anxious. To meet his son. To go through the whole process that he missed out with Mary. Even if it meant pain, his pain, in the end. He wanted to go through it all.
So, when that spoon clattered on the floor, he sat up like a bolt. Blubbering nonsense at first, before the sleep washed away. Claire wasn't in their bed. That was what clicked first. That set him into action, he stepped in to pants (He'd gone to the trouble of setting some clean clothes up every night, that he could just throw on, just in case. They might have resembled a pile of dirty clothes to anyone who didn't know, but he knew.) and hauled a shirt up over his head.
"Baby?" He called out as he stepped out of their bedroom. "Claire?" There was a possibility that there was nothing wrong. That something had simply dropped. And there was no reason to freak out. Not yet.