She leaned against the Impala, looking a little worse for wear after the hunt. Bruised, covered in dirt, but still standing tall. Dean approached, tossing her a bottle of water.

“You look like you’ve been through hell,” he said with a small grin.

She gave him a tired smile, accepting the water. “Yeah, well, hell’s got nothing on me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “Just... taking a break.”

Dean stepped closer, offering her his jacket, the one with the sleeves rolled up from when he’d been working on the Impala. “You’ve done enough. Let me take care of you for once.”

She looked at him, the tough exterior slipping just enough for her to let the vulnerability show. “I could get used to that.”

Dean smiled, just a little more sincere than usual. “Good. You deserve it.”