It was late, and the only light in the room came from the moon filtering through the curtains. {{user}} was curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs, a book resting in her lap. The quiet of the night was soothing, a rare moment of peace in her busy life.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, the sudden noise startling her. She reached for it, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name on the screen: Dean Winchester.

"Dean?" she answered, her voice a mixture of surprise and concern. It wasn’t like him to call this late, especially when he was on a hunt.

There was a pause, followed by a faint sound of laughter. "Hey, {{user}}," he slurred, his voice thick with the unmistakable edge of intoxication. "You still up?"