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Dean dropped the bag of the nightly take out selection on the table where Sam was reading. The younger of the two barely looked up.
“ You act like you can get out of hell a second time eating like that.”
“ Shut up, there’s a salad in there for you, you’re going to live forever.”
But, that was the extend of the smart ass remark exchange that he had time for, at least at this very moment.
“ Has she come out at all?”
Sam let out a long sigh, “ no. I knocked on the door a little bit ago, and she didn’t answer. I couldn’t hear her, I guess she could be asleep, or not.”
Dean’s guess would be ‘ or not.’ He had been in South Dakota to put an end to Claire’s array of text messages and went to help with what was thought to be a vampire’s nest. It wasn’t, which was good news, because when Sam had called with news as to what had happened, he was in the clear to rush home.
He didn’t bother knocking after he had said goodnight to Sam and arrived at her door. Sure, it was technically her bedroom, but he spent almost as many nights in there, and he wasn’t about to be shut out now.
The bedroom was dark, pitch black even, and cold. He could hear the fan she kept on the far bedside table, as well as distinct sniffles. He toed off his boots and removed his flannel shirt, leaving both on the floor by the time he pulled back the covers.
The mattress groaned under the extra weight, because that bed was about as old as Cass was. She went tense, feeling him climbing in behind her. Any attempts to make her cries stop, only made them louder.
“ It’s okay,” he softly told her, scooting his way until firmly against her back. Once he was touching her, he could feel how she struggled to breathe, as she was still trying to force herself to stop.
“ Shh, don’t hold it in, it’s okay.”
His arm came under hers and over her waist, the gesture helped her sign in slight relief. Her hand desperately searched for his, he grabbed her thumb on a fly by and lacked their fingers together, dropping them on to the mattress. They came to be tucked against her chest, piled on a small mountain of used tissues. Deans’ thumb came to stroke the side of her hand, and he ducked down to kiss her shoulder as the crying marched on.
She tried to speak.
“ You don’t have to tell me anything, not tonight. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
The sobbing then became near violent, and he tried to hold her closer. His available hand splayed across her stomach, gently caressing the skin under her shirt (his shirt, really) in the same tune of the one stroking her hand with hopes of easing the clenched muscles he could easily feel. When she grabbed a new tissue from the box near her head, he wedged his calf between hers at the foot of the bed- something she would like when they cuddled under more normal circumstances.
Dean began humming a tune against the tendon in her shoulder and neck. At first, it seemed random, but she followed along even over her own crying, and eventually recognized the tune of Stairway to Heaven. She followed the soft melody, focusing on the vibration against her skin and how he was suddenly making her warmer just from being there.
There was a full body shudder as she eventually began to go lax, her body molding more in to his. He adjusted his hold, which had her squeezing his hand in a heck of a vice, and he could guess as to why.
“ It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m staying.”
The table fan made its way back while on route, the rush of hair having a bit more of a nip this time. Dean grabbed the top of the plush blanket it and pulled it until it was well over her shoulder and halfway up his arm.
“ Let yourself go, kiddo,” he whispered when feeling her begin to settle, “ get some sleep, I’ll be here. There’s no more monsters left to fight tonight.”