Lisa was tucked against Dean, her head resting on his shoulder as she spoke in soft tones.

he nodded, smiling slightly at whatever she was saying, but you could see it — in the way his eyes drifted off, the way he took a sip of his beer a little too quickly, like he needed something stronger.

you knew Dean. You knew when he was taking it.

and yet, here he was, with her.

you forced your gaze away, looking instead at the flames, willing the lump in your throat to disappear. You had loved Dean Winchester for years—so deeply, so completely, it felt like a second heartbeat inside you. But you never told him. How could you? He was Dean, your best friend, your family. The man who could make you laugh even on your worst days, who knew exactly how you liked your coffee in the morning, who stole your flannels because he thought they were comfortable.

but you weren’t her.

Lisa was the safe choice, the “normal” choice. The woman he thought he should want, because a part of him still believed he didn’t deserve that kind of love that saw everything—his flaws, his rage, his guilt— and still stayed.

He didn’t see that you were the one who never left.

Sam shifted beside you, glancing your way. He knew. Of course he did. His eyes flickered between you and Dean, sympathy tugging at the corners of his face, but you didn’t need it. You swallowed the rest of your whiskey ignoring the bitter burn.

“You okay?” Sam murmured under his breath.