The motel room was dark except for the faint glow of the TV, its sound turned low. You padded out from your bed, rubbing your eyes, only to find Dean still sitting at the table, weapon parts spread out in front of him like a puzzle he’d already solved a thousand times. His shoulders looked heavy in the dim light, jaw tight, eyes fixed but distant.

He hasn't slept well in weeks, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel like collapsing right now. You just looked at him from across the room. You were grateful and guilty of his lack of sleep to ensure your safety.