Dean was out on a quick supply run, a rare break from hunting, and you had planned it carefully: one short note on the counter, a few clothes stuffed into a bag, all timed to be gone before he’d return. It was his birthday, which made it hurt that much worse, but you couldn’t take it anymore. The constant danger, the sleepless nights, the fear that any hunt might be your last. Dean deserved someone who could handle it… and right now, that wasn’t you.

You were halfway through folding up your jacket when you heard his voice in the doorway, laced with confusion, maybe even a little hurt. “Babe…?”

You froze. He was standing there, eyes darting from the bag on the bed to your hands, his brow furrowing as he took in the scene.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant, like he didn’t really want to know the answer. You watched as his eyes landed on the note you’d left half-folded on the bed, his jaw clenching. “You… you were just gonna leave? Without saying anything?”

The words caught in your throat, guilt clawing at you. “Dean, I... I didn’t know how else to do this.”

He took a step closer, his face clouded with emotion. “So you’re just giving up on us?” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, glancing away for a moment like he was trying to steady himself. “And I hate to do this to you on your birthday,” you muttered, fighting back tears as you echoed the words you’d written in the note. “But I can’t keep doing this, Dean. The hunting... it’s just... too much.”

He shook his head slowly, disbelief etched in every line of his face. “I know this life is hard,” he murmured, his voice thick with pain. “Hell, I know it’s a nightmare. But we’re a team, babe. You and me. We don’t just… we don’t walk out on each other.”

The sadness in his eyes was almost too much to bear. “If you needed a break, we could’ve taken one. Found a way to make this work. You really think I’d let you go through this alone?”

“Please… don’t leave.” His voice was barely above a whisper.