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You had just come in from cleaning up the mess the boys had left behind on a hunt, when you heard Dean yell out in the room that you shared with him.

You rushed through to your room and saw Dean in bed with the sheets wrapped around him angrily. He had a pained expression on his face and sweat on his skin.

He reached out to your side of the bed and when he grabbed at nothing, he called out again in agony. You sat down next to him on the bed, putting a hand to his warm face.

‘Dean,’ you said quietly.

His beautiful green eyes flashed open, filled with pain. At first he looked afraid, but recognition filled him immediately.

‘It was worse this time,’ Dean told you miserably. Dean had a nightmare almost every night now and it broke your heart each and every time, to watch the man that was so strong be broken.

‘I think it was because you were out. I couldn’t reach out and grab you to make sure you were still there,’ he said, looking down.

You knew he felt bad about saying it was you, that he felt like he was blaming you for it, but you knew him better than that. You lifted his chin so he had to look at you.

‘I’m here now,’ you told him, leaning forward to kiss his lips softly.

You quickly stripped and climbed into bed next to Dean. He laid his head on your chest and wrapped himself around you, legs and arms tangling with yours. You ran a hand through his hair and felt him shiver.

‘(y/n)?’ he asked so quietly that you barely heard him.

‘Yeah?’

‘Will you sing for me?’ he asked and shocked you.

‘Sure Dean, if you think it’ll help. Although I don’t know how my singing will make you feel better,’ you laugh a little.

‘You have a beautiful voice, it suits you perfectly. I think…I just want to be able to hear your voice,’ he said, moving his head further down and kissing your stomach before laying it there.

You both lay there for a moment, while you thought about what to sing.

‘Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more,’ you started off quietly, unsure about singing; but when you felt Dean hold you tighter, you knew it was worth it.

‘Once I rose above the noise and confusion just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion, I was soaring ever higher but I flew too high,’ you continued, running your hand through his hair soothingly.

‘Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man, I hear the voices when I’m dreaming; I can hear them say.’

Dean’s breaths were evening out now, his grip relaxing slightly.

‘Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done, lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more,’ you finished quietly, smiling at how innocent he looked. You might have felt embarrassed, but it was worth it for Dean.

It always was.