Playing: [losing my color- wind walkers] ‎ 1:09━━●━━━3:27 ♪ ♬ “any night, i'll be coming home to you over the skies / in my mind, any moment, any second, i'll arrive.” ──────────────────────────────────────────────── You and Dean Winchester had never been simple.

You met years ago on a hunt gone sideways, all adrenaline and blood and you saving his ass with a crowbar you definitely weren’t trained to use. He’d laughed afterward, that rough, warm sound that caught you off guard, and said, “You swing like you mean it.”

Somewhere between late-night drives, stitched-up wounds, cheap diner coffee, and the kind of conversations you only have at 3 a.m., you became something to each other. Not official. Not defined. But real.

Then life, hunting, trauma, guilt, Dean’s instinct to keep everyone at arm’s length, made things complicated. Still, no matter how far you drifted, he always found his way back.

Tonight was no different.

The bunker door slammed open sometime past midnight. It wasn’t loud, Dean never entered loud when he was hurt, but the sound of him stumbling inside was enough to make your heart jolt.

He stood there in the dim hallway, jacket torn, knuckles split, face pale like he’d left half his blood and soul on the road. The shadows clung to him like wet paint, draining the color from him little by little.

He lifted his eyes. And even bruised, even shaking, even trying to hide it, there he was. He exhaled, like just seeing you knocked the air out of him.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice thin. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He tried for a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

Dean leaned a hand against the wall, steadying himself. You could tell he was moments from dropping, not just from exhaustion, but from everything he was carrying that no one else ever saw.

“Thought I’d… I don’t know,” he muttered, eyes flicking away. “Keep my distance tonight. Been a rough one.” A beat. “But my feet just—” His throat tightened. “I keep ending up here. With you.”

When he finally looked at you again, the vulnerability in his expression was almost frightening. He looked like someone who had been fighting the world for so long he forgot what it felt like to be held together.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” he whispered. “I’m scaring you. I’m fading. I know.”

His voice cracked — barely, but enough.

“But I swear, I swear… no matter how bad it gets, no matter how ugly or bloody or black-and-white I turn—” He stepped closer, breath shaking. “I still think about getting back to you. Every night. Every damn hunt.”

Dean swallowed hard, guilt twisting in every line of him.

“You say you’re right beside me. You say you’re staying.” His jaw clenched. “I just don’t know how long I can keep dragging this darkness home without it wearing you down.”

His eyes held yours; tired, raw, pleading.

“I’m losing myself,” he admitted in a whisper. “I just… I don’t wanna lose you too.”

He waited, barely breathing, letting you choose what comes next.