It was a cold Montana night, sitting out on the porch of Rufus' abandoned cabin. You hugged your knees to your chest, silently listening to the sound of the rain slowly sprinkle over the forest surrounding you.

You couldn't sleep.

Ever since Bobby passed, sleep evaded you in different ways. Some days you could sleep for 17 hours straight and still be tired by the time you woke up. Other days, like tonight, you were wide awake. No amount of tossing and turning, physical exertion, reading- like Sam had suggested, or drinking- like Dean suggested, could make you fall asleep.

You knew it was the grief. The tax it had on your body as you were struggling to cope. Bobby was a father figure to you. He took you in as a teen after your mother's death. He gave you a shot at life without the monsters and the supernatural. He took care of you. He loved you like his own. He was the closest thing you had to family, besides Sam and Dean.

The brothers tried their best to be there for you, but at the end of the day all you wanted was to go through the motions on your own. So, here you were. Sam and Dean fast asleep inside and you sat outside in the cold, alone. Stewing in your thoughts.

You're not sure how much time had passed before the creak of the front door opening broke you of out your distracted haze. Dean steps out onto the porch not a moment later, his hair disheveled with sleep and his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he catches sight of you.

"The hell are you doing out here?" He mutters out, his arms crossing over his chest as he shuffles towards you.