The room is quiet, wrapped in the kind of warmth that only comes after a long, exhausting day. You and Dean are tangled together in bed, your head resting against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

There’s something safe about this.. something steady.

And then, just as sleep starts to pull you under, Dean mumbles, soft, barely more than a breath.

“Lisa…”

Your eyes snap open, stomach twisting violently it makes you sick.

The second the name leaves his lips, he realizes it. His whole body tenses, and his hand, the one resting on your back, stills completely.

“Shit.” His voice is hoarse, low, laced with immediate panic.

You pull away, sitting up just enough to look at him. His eyes are wide now, fully awake, guilt already settling into the lines of his face.

“What did you just say?” Your voice is quiet. Too quiet.

Dean swallows hard. “I-“ He runs a hand down his face, shaking his head. “I didn’t- It was just a slip.”

A slip. A slip?

You nod, your chest tight. “Right.”

“Wait- no.” Dean pushes himself up, reaching for you, but you pull back, just out of his grasp. “That didn’t mean anything. You are the one I want. You know that.”

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. “Do I?”

Dean’s face twists, pained. “Come on, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, Dean?” Your voice shakes, and you hate it. “You said her name. In bed. While you were holding me.”

His jaw clenches. “I don’t- It just came out, okay? It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“But you still think about her.” You say it quietly, watching his face. “You still love her.”

He doesn’t answer right away. And that pause.. that hesitation tells you everything.

Your heart sinks.

Dean exhales sharply, dragging his hands through his hair. “Damn it, that’s not-“ He stops himself, looking at you, looking through you, like he’s trying to find the right words to make this go away.

You shake your head, throat tight as you climb out of the bed. “I need some air.”

“Wait-“