You sit on the motel bed, knees tucked to your chest, eyes distant. Dean says nothing — just slides in beside you, close but careful.

Without a word, he drapes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently against him. His hand rests warm and solid on your arm, thumb brushing slow circles.

“I got you,” he murmurs, voice soft against your hair. “You’re not alone.”

You don’t speak. You just lean in, sinking into the steady weight of him — the only thing that feels real right now.

Dean stays quiet, holding you tighter. And for the first time all day, your heartbeat starts to slow, You don’t even realize you’re drifting until your head tilts onto Dean’s shoulder. His arm tightens instinctively, steady and warm.

He glances down, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s it,” he whispers. “Rest. I’ve got you.”

Your breathing evens out, soft and slow against his chest. Dean leans back against the headboard, holding you close, his hand idly tracing light patterns on your back.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Just stays there, keeping you safe while you sleep — like he always will. The motel door creaks open quietly. Sam steps in, rain dampening his jacket. He freezes when he sees you both. His gaze softens.

Dean meets his eyes over your head and just shakes his head once — a silent not now.

Sam nods slowly, understanding. Without a word, he closes the door softly behind him and sinks into the chair across the room, giving you space.

No questions. No rush. Just quiet. Just safe.