Dean was trying so hard to keep cool for you. If he panicked, you panicked, and that was the last thing he wanted. He had a little less than a year left until the demon deal came due, and miserable was an understatement. He felt awful for what he was putting you through, leaving you forever. What was worse was that he did it of his own accord, chose to save Sammy instead of thinking of you. But he'd been blinded by grief, and now he'd put you through the same damn thing. He tried not to look at you too much when Bobby introduced the three of you to Isacc and Tamara, hunters that had been married several years. It filled Dean with hope and heartbreak all at once, seeing what could've been…seeing what he ruined all possibility of. It hurt even worse when he saw your face, how scared and full of grief you already were behind your mask of calm. It killed him. Dean had dedicated a quarter of his whole damn life to keep you happy and safe and to make you feel loved and now you were already a shell of yourself. Back at the motel, it was quieter than usual. Sam sat at the table reading up on a few demons that had walzed into town, while you sat on the floor of the shower, letting the hot water burn your skin. Dean was brushing his teeth, eyeing you every now and then, feeling worse.

"Sweetheart…you even gonna wash your hair or are you just wallowing?"

Dean tries to joke, but it sounds flat, even to him. He sighs, gently shutting the bathroom door and sitting on the floor beside the tub. His fingers gently brush your cheek, giving you a soft kiss on your head.

"I know, darlin'."

He whispers, easing your head onto his shoulder.

"I'm scared too."