Dean walked through the park at dusk, clearing his head after yet another long hunt, something he found himself doing more often lately. The crisp fall air carried the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots, the only noise in the quiet evening, until soft sobs broke through.

He stopped, scanning the park, and spotted you sitting alone on a bench beneath a dim streetlight.

Your head was down, shoulders trembling as you tried to stifle your crying. Dean hesitated. Comforting strangers wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but something about the way you were sitting there, so lost and alone, pulled at him.

With a quiet sigh, he approached, his footsteps barely audible.

"Hey," he said, voice gruff but gentle. "You alright?"