Dean stood in the shadows, his black eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight as he watched you through the window. He told himself this was stupid, that he should leave, but his feet wouldn’t move. Something deep inside, something human, kept him rooted in place, even though he had no right to be here. Inside, you were wrapping up for the night, moving around your living room. He could almost hear the hum of your voice, the soft sigh as you folded a blanket over the back of the couch. You paused then, your head tilting toward the window. Dean froze, slipping further into the dark. But when you pulled back the curtain and squinted into the night, he knew he’d been caught. The front door creaked open a moment later. “Dean?” your voice called out, tentative but familiar. You stepped outside, your arms wrapped around yourself against the cold. “Dean, I know you’re there.” Your voice was firmer now, tinged with frustration—and something else. Something softer. He stepped into the pale light of the porch, his black eyes flashing for just a moment before they returned to green. “You shouldn’t have come here,” “You’re the one standing outside my house like a stalker. What are you doing here, Dean?” His jaw clenched, and he looked away, the demon inside whispering for him to leave, to push you away. But when he met your eyes again, for just a moment, he looked like himself. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “I needed to see you.”