Imagine: Dean being there for you after a bad hunt
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I dragged my feet along as I walked through the bunker sneakily. It was 4 in the morning, the boys were asleep and probably had no idea I was home. I made it to my destination, the library. I plopped down in a chair, closing my eyes and trying to forget about what happened. I didn't care about the blood on my clothes and face at that point. Footsteps approached, and I opened my eyes to see the man by the table.
"Hey," Dean said tiredly. "You're home early."
"Took a shortcut home," I replied quietly. "Takes an hour and a half off the drive."
"Hm," Dean hummed.
After that, I noticed the tears in my eyes. I stood up, looking at him directly. He noticed my expression.
"You ok?" He asked, and I scoffed.
"I'm fine," I lied, looking down.
"'Fine,'" Dean repeated. "You don't look fine."
"Well, that's what I'm supposed to say, isn't it?" I questioned. "That I'm ok, that everything's fine?"
"No," He shook his head.
"What the hell am I supposed to say then?!" I shouted unintentionally. "That my whole world is falling apart? That I can barely get two hours of sleep at night? I mean with the new apocalypse and my dad and... Cass? It's just all too much."
I sighed, sniffling and trying my best not to let it all out right there in front of Dean. He stepped in front of me and wrapped his arms around me. I shuddered, resting my chin on his shoulder. A tear fell down my face. He held the back of my head.
"It's gonna be ok, Y/N," He told me.
I clutched his shirt, hiding my mouth behind the front of his shoulder. I held the tears back as I began to calm down.