The motel room was dim, lit only by the flickering neon sign outside and the soft glow of the bedside lamp. You lay curled on your side, a heating pad pressed to your stomach, trying to breathe through the cramps that had hijacked your body. The hunt had ended hours ago, but the real battle was happening in your uterus.

Dean knocked gently before entering, carrying a brown paper bag and a look of quiet concern. “Got the goods,” he said, holding up the bag like it was treasure. “Midol, chocolate, and—don’t judge me—those weird herbal teas Sam swears by.”

You managed a weak smile. “You’re a lifesaver.”

He sat beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “You should’ve said something earlier. I would’ve skipped the salt-and-burn and stayed here with you.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, just slightly. “You’re never a burden. Not to me.”

He helped you sit up slowly, tucking a pillow behind your back. Then he handed you a mug of tea, still steaming, and opened the chocolate bar with the kind of reverence usually reserved for holy relics. “I Googled stuff,” he admitted, sheepish. “Apparently magnesium helps. So does cuddling.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You Googled period tips?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to do it right. You deserve that.”

You didn’t say anything at first—just leaned into him, letting his arm wrap around your shoulders. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way he held you like you were something precious—it all made the pain a little easier to bear.

“I love you,” you whispered, half-asleep against his chest.

Dean kissed the top of your head. “I know. I love you too. Even when you steal all the blankets and cry at dog commercials.”

You chuckled, and he smiled. Mission accomplished