It’s late in the night in the dimly lit motel room you’re sharing with Dean and Sam during a long, exhausting hunt. You’re fast asleep, lying beside Dean, the room quiet except for the hum of a distant heater. But suddenly, the silence breaks, and you’re jolted awake by the sound of Dean’s ragged breathing, quick and panicked. You turn over and see him shifting restlessly, his fists clenched, his face twisted in distress.

“Dean,” you whisper, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm, but he doesn’t wake. His breaths grow more frantic, his expression even more pained. You realize this isn’t like his usual nightmares; there’s a desperation in him tonight that’s raw and real, something deeper.

“Dean,” you say a little louder, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking gently. He gasps awake, bolting upright, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. For a moment, he stares into the darkness, still caught halfway between the nightmare and reality, his hand clinging tightly to yours as though you might slip away.

“Hey,” you say softly, shifting closer. “I’m right here, Dean. It was just a dream.”

His eyes finally meet yours, full of relief mixed with lingering fear. He swallows, his voice a little hoarse. “I… I thought I lost you.” He’s quiet for a second, like he’s gathering his thoughts, before he adds, almost brokenly, “I couldn’t find you… and then you were just… gone.”

You cup his face in your hands, letting him feel the warmth and solidity of your presence, grounding him back into reality. “I’m right here, Dean,” you say gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean lets out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he tries to calm himself. You feel his grip on your hand relax slightly as he finally seems to believe you’re really there. You know how much he hides and buries, how hard he works to keep everyone else safe. But right now, he’s letting himself lean on you.