The bed was small, the room was cramped, but the sheets were warm, and there was silence.

No threats. No monsters. No fear.

Dean was lying on his side, watching {{user}} sleep with his face hidden in the pillow.

He had left the knife on the table. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I needed her.

He just stretched out his hand, gently pulling it closer.

She murmured, a little sleepy:

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s now.”