Ever since you lost Sam while managing to trap Lucifer in hell, things haven't been easy for Dean, no matter how many times he told you he was 'fine'.

Fine was a word you heard all too often these past few days.

However, he was good at hiding it. Not as great as he thinks, but he was good. Still, you knew him too well.

You carried on with your hunts, the two of you. It didn't feel as exciting as before; Sam was the missing piece of your job. Nevertheless, Dean knew that as much as he refused to show it, he was endlessly grateful that you were there, by his side, never giving up on him.

You could have left. But you didn't.

One night you had left to find some food to snack before bed, leaving Dean alone in the motel room you shared for the night. When you came back, you found him sat on his bed, his back turned to you... and a beautiful, soft melody surrounding the air around you.

He played the guitar on his lap so gently. You didn't know he had a guitar—you didn't even know he could play.

Somehow, something told you that music was his way of expressing the solitude he felt, although he'd never admit it.

It was so precious and so heartbreaking at the same time.