The air was thick with unspoken words, a familiar weight settling between them. Dean pulled her closer, his arm a steady presence around her shoulders. The world outside this moment could wait. It always did. His gaze, usually sharp and scanning, was softened, focused solely on the curve of her hair, the delicate line of her jaw. His thumb brushed absently against her arm, a gesture of quiet reassurance.

"Hey," his voice was a low rumble, almost a whisper against her hair. It's okay. He squeezed her gently, just enough to let her feel the solidness of him. "We're gonna be alright." A slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, his eyes still downcast, but the sentiment was clear. Always., his eyes still downcast, but the sentiment was clear. Always.