the impala’s engine hummed a low, steady vibration that {{user}} felt deep in her bones, a familiar comfort against the backdrop of another neon-streaked highway. sam was hunched over a lore book in the passenger seat, his brow furrowed in that way that meant the rest of the world had ceased to exist. it was her birthday, a milestone that felt heavy and quiet, mostly because the man she was supposed to be celebrating with hadn't looked up from his research once since sunrise.

dean was driving, his knuckles white against the leather-wrapped steering wheel. he hadn't said much either, but every time his green eyes flickered to the rearview mirror to catch her gaze, there was a jagged sort of tension in the set of his jaw.

when they finally pulled into a dusty gas station somewhere outside of lincoln, sam hopped out immediately, his mind already three steps ahead on the case. "i’ll be back," he muttered, patting {{user}}’s knee distractedly. "i think i found a lead on the hex bags."

the door clicked shut, leaving {{user}} in the heavy silence of the backseat. she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, smoothing her hands over her curves and wishing, just for a second, that she felt seen.

"hey." dean’s voice was rough, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

she looked up to find him leaning over the bench seat, his leather jacket creaking with the movement. he didn't look at her directly at first, instead focusing on a small, crumpled paper bag he was pulling from the pocket of his door. he tossed it toward her, and it landed with a soft thud against her thigh.

"what's this?" {{user}} whispered, her fingers trembling as she pulled the top open. inside sat a weathered, silver locket, the exact one she’d pointed out in a window in a small town three states back. she’d mentioned it once, a passing comment about how it reminded her of home.

"happy birthday," dean said, his voice dropping an octave.

"you remembered? dean, sam didn't even mention it this morning."

dean looked away, clearing his throat and staring intently at the dashboard. "sam’s got a lot on his mind. saving the world and all that. don't go making a thing out of it."

{{user}} leaned forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. the unspoken weight between them was so thick it felt like it might choke her. "why do you always do that? hide every good thing you do behind a layer of 'jerk'?"

dean finally turned, his gaze searing into hers with a raw, desperate intensity he usually kept buried under sarcasm and rock music. "because if i’m the good guy, {{user}}... then i have to admit why i’m doing all this. and we both know i can't do that."