The neon lights of the bar cast a dim glow across the parking lot, and the faint thrum of music drifted outside each time the door swung open. Inside, the others were celebrating – a successful hunt, another night they’d managed to scrape by unscathed. But the joy never reached you. Despite all the time you’d spent with the Winchesters, you’d always felt like the odd one out, not quite fitting into their rhythm. Sam, who you’d once been close to, had grown distant after a bitter argument you’d never quite been able to forget. It was hard enough feeling like an outsider in your own life, but even harder when the people you cared about felt miles away.

Leaning against the Impala outside, the crisp night air did little to ease the heaviness in your chest. You had thought maybe a night out would help, maybe even mend things with Sam. But that was wishful thinking. The truth was, you just didn’t belong here. Not with them. Not anywhere, it seemed.

You hadn’t noticed Dean slipping out of the bar until you felt his presence next to you, his shoulder bumping yours gently as he took a spot leaning against the car beside you. He didn’t say anything at first – didn’t need to. It was one of the things you appreciated most about Dean: his silence was never empty, never pressured. Just there.

“Long night, huh?” he finally asked, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The quiet, familiar warmth in his voice was a balm to your raw nerves.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much. “Yeah… guess so.”

Dean tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, deep in thought. “You know, you don’t have to be in there if you don’t want to be,” he said softly. “I get it – things can get… rough with Sam. Trust me, I know better than anyone.”

The mention of Sam stung, but you couldn’t deny the comfort Dean’s presence brought. He was different with you than Sam ever had been – steady, unjudging. When you finally glanced up, his green eyes met yours with a sincerity that took you off guard.