Dean’s leaning against the Impala, the night air cool and still around you. He looks up as you approach, a flicker of something soft and familiar in his green eyes. But when you stop a few feet away, arms crossed and your gaze hesitant, his expression shifts concern replacing warmth.

“What’s with the face?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but his voice is tense. He knows something’s up.

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground. “Dean, we need to talk.”

His jaw tightens at the words, and he straightens, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that.” He takes a step closer, searching your face. “What’s going on? Did I screw something up?”

You shake your head quickly, trying to stop him before he spirals. “No, it’s not you. It’s me, my… situation. Us. This.”

He frowns, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “What’re you talking about? What situation?”

You glance away, the weight of Heaven’s watchful eyes pressing down on you. “Dean, I’m an angel. And angels aren’t supposed to… do this. Be with a human. If Heaven finds out, they’ll…”

“They’ll what?” His voice is sharper now, protective. He steps closer, forcing you to look at him. “Punish you? Smite me? Screw ‘em. Let ‘em try.”

“Dean, it’s not that simple.” Your voice wavers, and you take a step back. “Heaven isn’t something you can just stand up to. I can’t put you in that kind of danger. And I can’t… I can’t lose everything I am because of this.”

His jaw clenches, and he looks at you like you’ve just punched him in the gut. “So that’s it? You’re just… walking away?”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection from you,” he snaps, his voice breaking. “You think I give a damn about Heaven? I’ve faced worse than a couple of glowing winged jerks. I don’t care what they think, or what they do. You’re the one I care about.”