You sat slumped in the backseat of the Impala, exhausted from the hunt, fortunately, it’d been close to the bunker, close enough that you didn’t need a motel room overnight.

You could barely get your limbs to function, your complexion was pale and you looked so defeated.

You eventually pushed yourself up, running a shaky hand down your face.

“Sweetheart?” Dean murmured, eyes on you in search that you had been listening.

“Hey..Hey.” He spoke, gently scooping you up with a frown.