You’d always known Dean Winchester was good at hiding things—his pain, his guilt, his past. But you didn’t realize he was hiding something from you until now.

It had been months since you and Dean started dating. At first, it seemed perfect, but lately, things felt off. The distance. The walls. He was pulling away, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach him anymore. You knew there had been someone before you, but you never thought she’d still have such a tight grip on him.

One night, after another failed attempt to talk things through, you sat at the bunker’s table, watching as Dean paced, hands shoved in his pockets, refusing to look at you.

"You’ve been different," you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not really here anymore."

Dean stopped, tension visible in his shoulders, avoiding your gaze. "I told you, I’ve just been busy with the hunt. That’s all."

"Don’t lie to me, Dean." Your voice cracked, the hurt seeping through. "It’s more than that. It feels like… like I’m just here to help you forget something. Or someone."

He froze, back still to you. The silence was suffocating before he finally turned around, eyes stormy with guilt and frustration.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, rubbing his face. "What do you want me to say? That you’re right? That this was never real? That I was trying to get over her, and you just… happened to be there?"

His words hit like a punch to the gut. You stood there, numb.

"So, I was just a distraction?" you asked, voice breaking. "You didn’t actually care?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair, eyes full of guilt. "It wasn’t supposed to go this far," he snapped. "I don’t… feel that way about you. I don’t like you like that."