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I do not own Supernatural or any of irs characters or properties

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands, trying to block out Sam and Dean’s argument. They were so loud you could hear them from your room and probably from anywhere else in the bunker right now. They didn’t get like this often, but when they did, it was unbearable. For the life of them, they couldn’t come to a common ground on Jack. Dean is right to be skeptical, to be wary of what might happen. You’ve been down roads like this before and there’s not always something pleasant at the other end, but you’ve never seen Dean be so hard on someone like this before.

“Yes, he does, Dean. Of course he does.” You let out a shaky sigh when you can hear Sam’s heart breaking as he tries to defend Jack. He’s just a kid, he was thrown into this just like the rest of you. How could you give up on him before he’s even had the chance to do something wrong? What would that say about you?

A tear falls on the paper in front of you as they bring up Mary and Castiel. It’s barely been a week since you lost them, since you watched Cas’ body burn. In that week you’ve seen your loved ones die, you’ve seen Sam and Dean at each other’s throats almost constantly, and you’ve seen how it’s affected Jack. Sometimes he’s got this look on his face like he hates himself; like he can’t stand what he is even though none of you really understand it yourselves. The three of you have never dealt with this kind of thing before and on top of that, you were all mourning. Of course, you wished things turned out differently, but no matter how you looked at it, you couldn’t move yourself to blame Jack for what’s happened.

You quickly wiped the tears from your face as you heard the yelling stop and footsteps coming down the hallway. It sounded like Dean. You grabbed the nearest book, opening it to a random page to make it look like you’d been reading this whole time.

You flipped another page as he turned the knob and came in. He didn’t say a word as he dumped his bag on the floor and began to undress. You could practically feel the anger coming off of him and you knew he wouldn’t want to talk, but you couldn’t take another night of this silence.

“How’s Jodie?” you asked, keeping the subject light. You turned around when you didn’t get a response. “Dean?” He was already under the covers. Arms crossed and eyes closed with headphones on. ‘Great,’ you thought to yourself. With a deep breath, you got up and slipped under the covers with him. You nestled into his side as his arm came up to wrap around you.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. Everyone was so divided in the bunker. You leaned up, planting a goodnight kiss on Dean’s cheek. Maybe one more night of silence wouldn’t kill you.

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