Dean didn’t know how to say it. Which was ridiculous, considering all the things he’d had to tell her over the years—about deaths, demons, missing people, hauntings, even the damn apocalypse. But this… this felt worse than any of that.

Dean had been rehearsing the damn speech in his head for hours.

Maybe days.

He’d start casual. "Hey, so… been thinking." Or maybe serious right off the bat. "This life, it’s not working without Sam. You and I both know it."

Hell, maybe he’d just blurt it out—“I’m leaving.”

But every version of it led to her looking at him with those eyes—wide and wounded, asking why without ever saying the word. He imagined her going quiet, trying to be strong about it. Nodding with that tight-lipped smile she used when everything was falling apart and she didn’t want anyone to know.

Or maybe she'd just laugh it off. Say, “Yeah, sure, Dean. Good luck lasting two weeks without a salt-and-burn.”

He didn’t think she’d get angry. She never really got angry at him.

That thought comforted him. Made it easier to open the door to Bobby’s salvage yard where he knew she’d be.

She was sitting on the hood of the Impala outside Bobby’s place, hair pulled back, legs crossed at the ankle, a kolba resting loosely in one hand. She hadn’t said much since Sam had gone. Not since that last hunt, the one they both knew wasn’t about the creature—it was about grief, about pain she wouldn’t put words to. Dean had buried himself in silence too, but at least he had a plan. He thought it might give her some comfort.

It didn’t.

He hesitated for a second. Then walked toward her, each step heavier than the last.

“Hey,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jacket.

She didn’t look at him. “Hey.”

He didn’t waste time. “I’m leaving.”

She stared at him, like she was waiting for him to say just kidding. But he didn’t. He just stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, looking at anything but her.

“What?”

Dean exhaled. “I’m gonna stop hunting. Sam… he’s gone. I made him a promise. Told him I’d try to live a normal life. So I’m going to Lisa’s. Her and Ben. I figure they—”

“You’re serious,” she said, cutting him off. She looked at him like he’d just ripped the ground out from under her feet.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

She slid off the car. Her boots hit the ground with a thud, and she took a few slow steps toward him. He waited for the soft expression. The quiet understanding. The maybe even relieved look that he was giving her a chance to get out too.

But none of that came.

What he got was rage.

“You’re leaving me?” she said, low and bitter.

Dean blinked. “I’m not—look, I thought you’d want this. A shot at something normal.”