【Ａｓｈｅｓ Ｔｏ Ａｓｈｅｓ】

-𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕊𝕒𝕞-

"(y/n)?"

(e/c) eyes shift up from the fluorescent glow of the laptop screen Bobby had placed in front of her hours before, features sharpened by the light it emits when (y/n) turns her attention onto the tall figure walking into the living room she sat within. With the computer resting upon her lap, fingers pausing above black-colored keys, the phoenix greets the man with a smile. Although the shape of it is curved at the edges, the weariness within the action is all too familiar to the hunter who sees it.

"Hey, Dean" There is an almost charming politeness to her welcome to mask the much more potent worry she felt for the man who had been plagued with debilitating anxiety these past 24 hours, gaze softening ever so slightly at the sight of him nervously fidgeting with the pair of plastic water bottles he held in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

It takes him a moment to answer, almost as if too afraid to approach these complicated feelings himself before he eventually forces forward a smile that mirrors her own and shrugs his shoulders in indifference. "Doin' fine, Tweety. How's that research coming along?"

Tossing one of the water bottles in her direction, the phoenix catching the cold plastic with ease, Dean watches as (y/n) narrows her eyes at the screen in front of her, mouth opening to let out a huff of frustration when she clumsily navigates the handful of tabs she had open.

"You'd think for someone who was there when the computer was first invented I'd understand what I was doing..." she sighs half to herself, Dean unable to hide the genuine amusement that overtakes his features for a moment at the way she almost growls at her own hand when she presses a wrong key. "To my knowledge, I haven't found anything yet."

"Nothing?" he clarifies quietly, moving to occupy the empty seat beside her.

She shakes her head, quickly clicking through the articles she had found. "Nothing supernatural at least."

Nodding in understanding, Dean lets his body fall back into the leather cushion of his chair. With his eyes falling shut, a sigh of exhaustion breezing past parted lips, the phoenix allows herself to sweep her gaze across his face. With the deep creases gone from between the furrow of his brow and his mouth lifted from the scowl that often pulled at his freckled skin, (y/n) couldn't help but notice how young he looked. It was as if she were able to, just for a single moment, see the man he had once been beneath the vicious scarring and whiskey-tainted callousness. The man untouched by the cruelty of a world he sacrificed everything to save.

"Has he woken up at all?"

"Hm?" (y/n) hums in absentminded acknowledgment before snapping her focus back up to his, now-opened, eyes. Watching silently as he motions with his chin towards the couch behind them, the phoenix glances over her shoulder at the mound of flannel peeking out from beneath a tattered comforter Bobby found in one of the spare bedrooms. With long limbs splayed out across the cushions, hair in a tangled mess around the sharp features of his sweat-beaded face, Sam lay shivering on the couch.

"He's been there since yesterday." (y/n) finally responds, quickly sweeping her eyes across Sam's whimpering form before turning back to Dean. "I think he's been having nightmares."

"Doesn't surprise me..." Dean scoffs, bitterness tinging the edges of each word as he stares down thoughtfully at his brother. Furrowing her brows, (y/n) studies his expression for a moment before opening her mouth to speak again.

"Why-" she hesitates, tenderness to her tone when she finally finishes her question, "Why is he like this?"

He's quiet at first, never moving his attention away from his taller half as if a single breath would snuff out the light of the broken man before him. It isn't until he briefly meets the phoenix's warm (e/c) eyes that he sits forward to rest his arms across his knees and readies himself for an explanation that has been long overdue.