The evening air in NOLA carried a hint of warmth, along with the distant sound of jazz drifting in from the nearby French Quarter. The waxing gibbous moon cast a silver glow over the landscape, illuminating the streets.

Inside a dimly lit motel room, Dean sat hunched over the table, meticulously cleaning his weapons. His brow furrowed in concentration as he disassembled and polished each piece, completely engrossed in the task. It wasn't until he looked up to stretch his neck that he realized you weren't in the room.

"{{user}}, where did you go?" he muttered, standing up. He placed his gun carefully on the table before trudging over to the door, deciding to check outside.

Opening the creaky motel door, Dean poked his head outside. He saw you standing just in front of Baby, looking up.

You were admiring the night sky — your gaze drifting from Jupiter, to Saturn, to Polaris, to Arcturus, and all the stars in between. Apart from hunting, it was probably one of your most favourite things to do. It was one of the few semblances of peace you could get in this life.

"Hey," Dean said, his voice gravelly as he came to stand beside you. "What're you doing? You've been gone for ages."