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S2 Chapter 24 - Learning to Live Again (Season Finale)

Some people come into your life slowly. Quietly. Not with grand declarations or impossible promises, but with steady hands, shared mornings, and the kind of patience that teaches you how to feel safe again. As Nellie begins imagining a future beyond survival, the lines between friendship and something deeper start to blur in ways neither she nor Jack can ignore forever. But healing doesn’t erase fear overnight. And sometimes, the hardest thing about being loved is believing you deserve it in the first place.

Word Count: 22.3k

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TW: ANGST with a happy ending. brief description of SA via a memory. use of the word rape. use of mild language.

The week after that night feels different. Not dramatically. Nobody wakes up suddenly healed. Nothing magically disappears. But something in the house softens. Like everyone can finally breathe a little easier. Nellie especially. The trauma still whispers to her constantly. Still tells her: too broken, too difficult, too damaged to stay for. But now, those thoughts no longer sound completely true. Because Jack stayed. Even after she gave him an out. Even after she practically handed him freedom. He stayed. That realization settles deep inside her in ways she can’t fully explain yet. The shame doesn’t disappear. But for the first time since Aberiel, it begins losing some of its power.

So, she starts trying again. Not forcing. Trying. She starts spending more time outside the guest room. At first only for short stretches: coffee in the kitchen, helping Eileen fold towels, sitting quietly in the living room while Dean watches cartoons before school. The family notices immediately. None of them make a big deal out of it. They simply let her exist there naturally. Which helps more than they realize. She still insists on helping around the house sometimes. Not desperately now. Not like she’s trying to earn permission to stay, more because she’s trying to remember how to feel normal again. Eileen lets her help with small things: cutting vegetables, sorting laundry, wiping counters, organizing groceries. Sam gently shoos her away whenever she looks too tired. And Jack is somehow both the worst and best about it, because he notices immediately when she’s overdoing things.

“Nellie.” That soft concerned tone every single time. And somehow, she always knows exactly what he means. “You’re swaying,” or “You haven’t sat down in like an hour,” or “You’re exhausted.” The thing is, he never says it accusingly, never treats her like she’s fragile. Just like someone worth taking care of. That still does something dangerous and warm inside her chest every time.

There are still difficult days. Days where she changes clothes two or three times because nothing feels right on her skin. Days where mirrors become unbearable again. Days where she barely talks and spends hours curled up with her headphones on listening to music because it quiets her mind. But those days slowly become less frequent. And when they happen now, she no longer feels completely alone inside them.

Dean becomes one of the biggest unexpected helps. Mostly because he treats her exactly the same. Trauma doesn’t exist in his worldview the way it does for adults. To him, Nellie is still Nellie. So eventually he starts tugging her back into things.

“Movie night?” “Will you color with me?” “Can you help me beat Jack at Mario Kart?”

At first, she says no softly. Too tired. Too emotionally heavy. But gradually, she starts saying yes. And every single time she does, Jack notices. The first movie night nearly destroys him emotionally. Not because anything dramatic happens. Because she falls asleep halfway through the movie with Miracle curled against her leg while Dean rambles endlessly beside her. And she looks peaceful. He spends most of the movie pretending not to stare.

As the days continue, Eileen slowly transitions back into the master bedroom. Not abruptly. Carefully. Because Nellie’s nightmares haven’t disappeared. But they’re manageable now. Less violent. Less disorienting. And more importantly, she no longer panics at being alone afterward. Sometimes she still wakes shaky and nauseous. But now she grounds herself, puts on music, drinks water, sits outside briefly, or quietly talks herself through it. The progress is slow. Hard-earned. And she is incredibly proud of her for it. Even if it breaks her heart too. Because as Nellie stabilizes emotionally enough to process things properly, she starts asking questions. Real questions. Questions she had been too ashamed to say aloud before.

One evening while they fold laundry together, she quietly asks, “Is it normal to hate your own body afterward?”

Another night she admits, “Sometimes I still feel him touching me even when no one’s there.”

Eileen handles every confession gently. Steadily. Never shocked. Never disgusted. Never pitying. Just loving. She explains the responses carefully and every time Nellie realizes that she isn’t crazy or ruined. She’s traumatized. There’s a difference. That realization slowly becomes life changing. Though some details still break the woman’s heart privately after her niece falls asleep. Especially the quieter confessions, like how Aberiel liked watching her cry, how he treated fear like affection, how she stopped feeling like her body belonged to her. She cries privately about those conversations more than once. But she also sees something hopeful underneath them, that Nellie wants to heal. That matters.

And Jack? He sees all of it. The improvements. The regressions. The effort. And somehow every single thing only deepens his feelings. Not in a dramatic way. Not obsession. Something quieter. More devastating. Because watching Nellie fight her way back toward herself, even if slow, makes him admire her more than ever. He notices when she laughs easier, when she joins conversations voluntarily, when she sits closer to people, when she reaches for comfort instead of isolation. And every tiny step forward feels monumental to him. Especially because he knows how hard each one is. There are moments now where she seeks him out naturally again. Asks what he’s reading. Helps him cook. Hands him tea after he has been exhausted with playing with Dean. And every single one of those moments settles warmly inside his chest like something precious. Because after weeks of believing he was hurting her, she choosing his presence again means everything. Even if neither of them says it aloud yet. Not yet. For now, their healing exists in small things. Shared movie nights. Quiet kitchens. Books left beside each other. Coffee made automatically. Gentle concern. Lingering glances. They are slowly beginning to find their way back to each other, without either of them fully realizing it.

• • •

The house is still dark when Nellie wakes. For one disoriented moment she lays there staring at the ceiling of the guest room, listening to the quiet hum of the house around her. No screaming. No panic. No violent terror clawing its way through her chest. Just exhaustion. She had dreamed again, not one of the truly horrible ones, just enough to leave her emotionally restless and unable to settle back into sleep after waking around five in the morning. So, after laying there for nearly twenty minutes trying unsuccessfully to drift off again, she finally gives up. Carefully, quietly, she slips from bed and pulls on one of her oversized sweatshirts she stole from Sam before padding down the hallway. The house feels peaceful this early. Safe. That realization still surprises her sometimes. She slips out onto the back porch just as the first traces of dawn begin softening the horizon. The air is cool. Still. Nellie exhales slowly and settles into one of the porch chairs, pulling her knees loosely up beneath herself.

A few moments later she hears soft nails clicking against the floor behind her. Miracle pushes his way through the cracked door and immediately climbs into her lap like he belongs there. Honestly? He probably thinks he does. She smiles faintly for the first time that morning as she settles him comfortably against her chest and starts absentmindedly petting him. The dog sighs happily. And for a little while she simply watches the sunrise. No overthinking. No spiraling. Just quiet.

Inside the house, Jack wakes not long afterward. His sleep schedule still isn’t fully normal either. Too many weeks of listening for distress. Too many nights of emotional exhaustion. He pulls on a sweatshirt and quietly heads toward the kitchen to start coffee before everyone else wakes up. But as he passes the kitchen window, he pauses. Nellie sits outside on the back porch with Miracle curled comfortably in her lap. He immediately stills. Instinct takes over first. He watches carefully for signs of distress, but there are none. She’s just sitting there, watching the sunrise quietly while absentmindedly scratching the terrier behind the ears. Peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as she’s been in a long time. Relief settles softly through his chest. He stays there watching for maybe a second too long before finally forcing himself to move again.

A few minutes later he quietly slips out onto the porch carrying two mugs. She glances up at the sound of the door opening. Something warm flickers across her tired face immediately when she realizes it’s him. He carefully hands her the mug she likes without needing to ask. She notices that too. She always notices now.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

He nods and leans lightly against the porch railing instead of sitting immediately. “How’re you doing?” The concern in his voice is gentle. Natural. Never intrusive.

She shrugs slightly, wrapping both hands around the warm mug. “Couldn’t really sleep anymore.”

His expression softens immediately. Bad dream. He can tell without her saying it outright. But he also notices that she isn’t panicking, so that matters. So instead of pushing, he simply asks, “You okay?”

She looks back out toward the sunrise. After a moment she nods faintly. “Yeah. Just wanted to enjoy the quiet for a bit.”

He understands that completely. The early morning quiet in Lawrence feels different than the bunker. Softer somehow. Less haunted.

He nods once. “Well…” He gestures lightly toward the kitchen. “I should probably start breakfast before Dean wakes up and decides cereal counts as nutrition.”

That earns the faintest amused breath from her. He immediately treasures it internally. He starts turning back toward the door when her voice stops him.

“Jack?”

He pauses instantly, turning slightly.

She looks down into her coffee mug for a moment before speaking. “Thank you.”

He blinks softly. “For what?”

She shrugs faintly, still not fully meeting his eyes. “For all of this. You’ve done a lot.”

He immediately feels warmth rush into his face. “Nell…”

“No, I mean it.” Her voice stays soft. “You didn’t have to.”

That hits him hard because she still genuinely doesn’t understand that to him, staying was never a burden.

She finally glances up at him then and there’s something painfully sincere in her expression. “I know it’s been hard. But… I really admire you for it.”

That absolutely destroys him. He physically has to look away for a second because suddenly his entire chest is full of butterflies and emotion and warmth all at once. Nobody has ever said something like that to him before. Especially not her. He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, visibly flustered now. “It’s not—” He laughs softly once, embarrassed. “I mean… I didn’t mind it.” Which is true. Every second of exhaustion was worth knowing she was safe. He finally looks back at her again, expression gentler now. “I like helping. And I’m just glad you’re doing okay.”

Something soft shifts across her face hearing that, like she still doesn’t fully understand how someone could care about her this steadily.

He immediately feels himself getting too emotional standing there. Too aware of her looking at him softly in the sunrise light. Too aware of how much he likes her. So, before he completely embarrasses himself, he clears his throat lightly and gestures back toward the kitchen. “I should probably save Eileen from Dean’s breakfast choices.”

That finally earns a genuine small smile from her. And God, he will probably remember that smile for the rest of the week. “Probably,” she agrees quietly.

He gives her one last warm look before heading back inside, leaving her to enjoy the quiet morning.

She watches the door close behind him. Then looks back down at her coffee. At the exact way he made it without asking. At the warmth still lingering from the conversation. Without even realizing it, she smiles again.

• • •

The house is quiet by the time Dean is finally asleep upstairs. The kind of quiet that only comes after a long day of warmth and noise. Nellie had helped Eileen with dinner that evening while Jack and Sam handled getting Dean through bath time and pajamas, a process that somehow always turned into chaos. Now the dishes are done. The lights are dimmed low. Miracle is sprawled asleep near the living room couch. And for the first time in weeks, the evening feels almost normal. Almost. Nellie sits curled into one corner of the couch with a blanket over her legs and a book resting loosely in her lap. She isn’t really reading anymore though. Mostly just listening to the soft conversation around her. Jack sits nearby in the armchair opposite her, one leg tucked beneath him while he absentmindedly flips through his book that hadn’t really been read.

Sam and Eileen exchange one of those married looks from the kitchen. The kind that asks now? He clears his throat softly. “Hey,” he says gently. “Can we talk to you guys for a minute?”

Nellie immediately looks up. Her stomach tightens almost instantly. Not panic exactly. But nerves. Because serious conversations lately usually involve recovery, trauma, or difficult truths.

The Winchesters move into the living room, sitting together on the other couch. Neither looks upset. Sam leans forward slightly. “We wanted to ask you both something important. Are you planning on returning to hunting once you are ready to move on?”

The question settles heavily over the room. Jack immediately glances toward Nellie. Because ultimately, this decision affects her most.

For a long moment she says nothing. She looks down at the blanket in her lap thoughtfully. Then quietly, she answers, “If you asked me that a couple weeks ago… I would’ve said I was done. After everything with Aberiel, I didn’t really see the point anymore. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. And honestly? Aberiel would’ve come for me eventually anyway. Me hunting just brought him down sooner. And if I quit, there are still gonna be things like him out there. There are people out there who can’t protect themselves from monsters. But maybe I can.” The sentence lands quietly in the room. Because that’s the first time, she’s spoken about her abilities like that since the attack. Not curse. Not burden. Purpose. “I don’t want what happened to me to become the thing that stops me from helping people,” she admits quietly.

He feels something ache warmly in his chest hearing that. Because despite everything, she’s still Nellie. Still kind. Still brave. Still trying to protect others. Even after all this.

Sam studies her carefully for a long moment, then looks towards the young man. “What about you?”

Jack immediately looks conflicted. Not about hunting. About her. “I…” He exhales softly. “I don’t like the idea of her getting hurt again.”

The honesty in his voice makes her glance over at him. He notices immediately and looks slightly embarrassed by how emotional he sounded. But he continues anyway. “After everything, it scares me. But I understand why she wants to keep going.” He looks back at her now. And there’s so much trust in his expression it almost hurts her heart. “She’s good at this. And she helps people.”

She feels warmth bloom quietly in her chest.

He shifts slightly in his seat. “So, if she wants to keep hunting, then I’m hunting again, too.”

Sam’s expression softens visibly. “Okay. Then you do this slowly.”

“No rushing back into hunts,” Eileen adds. “You both still need time.”

Jack nods immediately. Honestly relieved someone else said it first.

He gestures lightly toward them. “You’ve both spent over a month focused entirely on survival and recovery. You need to rebuild strength again. And honestly? Getting back into balance with your abilities will probably help too.”

Nellie nods slowly. She knows he’s right. Her abilities still feel slightly uneven. Overreactive emotionally sometimes. Like they’re relearning stability alongside her.

Eileen leans forward slightly then. “There’s also some practical things we think would help once you do start hunting again. When you start taking cases again, it is probably separate motel rooms would probably be a good idea for a while. I know it isn’t cost effective, but just for a bit would be helpful.”

Sam immediately adds, “Not because we think Jack would ever cross a line.”

Jack nods firmly before either of them can continue. “Of course.” Immediate agreement. No hesitation whatsoever.

That visibly relaxes Nellie. Because somehow the suggestion doesn’t feel infantilizing. It feels considerate. Like they’re acknowledging the reality of trauma without treating her like she’s fragile glass.

Her aunt’s voice softens further. “You don’t have to force yourself back into old routines before you’re ready.”

Her throat tightens unexpectedly at that. Because a small, frightened part of her had worried she’d eventually be expected to just be normal again. To stop struggling. Stop needing adjustments.

Sam gestures lightly. “And if eventually you feel okay sharing rooms again? Then you revisit it.”

Jack nods immediately again. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

The sincerity in his voice hits Nellie hard, because there’s genuinely no disappointment there. No frustration. Just support. Something warm and emotional settles heavily in her chest then. Not pity. Not pressure. Safety. And for maybe the first time since everything happened, she realizes that they aren’t trying to drag her back into who she was before. They’re helping her figure out who she can safely become now.

• • •

The conversation about hunting changes something in Nellie over the next week. Not dramatically. But noticeably. It gives her something she hadn’t really allowed herself to think about since Aberiel: a future. Not just survival. Not just healing. Life afterward. And somehow that changes the atmosphere around her completely. She starts trying again in a different way now. Not because she feels obligated. Not because she’s terrified of being a burden. But because she genuinely wants to feel like herself again. And everyone notices.

She still has difficult moments. Those don’t magically disappear. There are mornings where she wakes quiet and heavy from nightmares. Days where she changes clothes at least once. Moments where she still flinches from mirrors unexpectedly or goes distant during conversations because some memory surfaced without warning. But now, those moments no longer consume entire days. She recovers from them faster. And more importantly: she lets people help her through them instead of isolating completely. That alone feels monumental to Sam and Eileen. Especially because Nellie begins participating in life more naturally now. Not forcing herself. Choosing to.

She starts helping Jack cook dinner again most evenings. At first only small things: cutting vegetables, washing dishes, keeping Dean entertained while Jack cooks. But eventually they begin slipping back into old rhythms without even realizing it. He reaches for ingredients before she hands them over. She automatically moving out of his way in the kitchen because they already know each other’s patterns. Quiet commentary while cooking. Shared teasing. Normal. It feels normal again. And honestly? That almost hurts him emotionally the first few times it happens. Because for weeks he genuinely thought they might never get this back.

One evening Dean complains dramatically about broccoli. Nellie immediately deadpans, “You literally tried to eat dirt last week.”

The boy gasps in betrayal. Jack nearly chokes laughing. And Sam and Eileen exchange silent looks across the kitchen because: there she is. That sharp quiet humor. That dry delivery.

She notices the looks immediately and flushes slightly. “Don’t make it weird.”

That only makes him laugh harder. And for the rest of the night, he can’t stop smiling whenever he looks at her. Because he absolutely starts looking at her more again. Not obsessively. Not in a way that would make her uncomfortable. Just… admiringly. Like he still can’t fully believe she’s here. Healing. Laughing again. Living again. He watches her when she reads on the couch, laughs with Dean, absentmindedly hums while cooking, explains why color has metaphorical significance in one of her books, sits outside with coffee in the mornings. Not because of how she looks physically — though he obviously thinks she’s beautiful — but because he genuinely loves who she is. The way she exists. The way she cares. The way she thinks. The way she’s fighting to reclaim herself despite everything. To him, that’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And it absolutely wrecks him emotionally sometimes.

The funniest part to Sam and Eileen is watching Jack attempt subtlety. Because he is trying so hard to remain respectful. Especially after everything. If Nellie gets quiet? He gives her space immediately. If she looks overwhelmed? He gently redirects conversations. If she looks tired? Suddenly there’s tea nearby or he’s telling her to sit down while he handles dinner. And every single thing he does screams I love her. Even if he hasn’t actually said the words.

Eileen catches Sam watching Jack one evening while the younger man pretends to focus on washing dishes while very obviously listening to Nellie explain a book she’s reading.

The Winchester mutters quietly, “He’s got it bad.”

She nearly smiles into her coffee. “Mmhm.” Because honestly? At this point everyone in the house knows. Everyone except maybe their son and Nellie.

Though even she’s starting to suspect something now. Especially because she notices things too. Like: Jack always remembers how she likes her tea. He notices headaches before she mentions them. He knows when she’s overstimulated. He quietly shields her from crowded spaces. He checks if music is too loud. He automatically grabs her favorite snacks at stores. And for the first time in her life, being known doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels safe. Wanted. Loved. That realization terrifies her a little sometimes. But more than that, it warms her.

• • •

Dinner that evening feels warm. Comfortable. Dean is halfway through an animated story about something that happened at school while Miracle sits hopefully beneath the table waiting for someone to “accidentally” drop food. Nellie is actually participating in the conversation tonight instead of simply listening. That alone still quietly amazes Sam sometimes. She’s teasing Dean lightly. Rolling her eyes at Jack’s terrible attempt at helping with spelling homework. Arguing with Eileen over whether garlic bread counts as a vegetable. It feels startlingly normal.

And because of that, Sam finally decides to say something he and Eileen had been discussing privately for days. He glances toward his wife first. Eileen gives a tiny nod. So, he looks toward Nellie and Jack. “We’ve been thinking,” he says casually, setting his fork down. “And honestly? We think you’re both almost ready to head back to the bunker.”

The table stills slightly. Nellie blinks. Jack immediately looks up too.

He continues gently, “Not immediately. But maybe another week here first. Relax a little more before getting back into hunting.”

For a second, she just stares at him. Then something bright and startled flickers across her face. Excitement. Real excitement. But then just as quickly, hesitation settles in. She looks down at the table. “Are you sure?” The question is quiet. Vulnerable. Like she genuinely doesn’t trust herself enough to know the answer anymore.

Eileen’s expression softens immediately. “You’ve improved a lot,” she says gently.

He nods in agreement. “And honestly? At some point healing plateaus if you stay hidden away too long. There’s only so much recovery you can do sitting inside this house. Eventually you have to start living again.”

Jack watches her closely, noticing the subtle shift in her expression as she considers it. Hope. Nervousness. Determination. All tangled together. And honestly? Seeing that look on her face makes him ridiculously happy. Because for weeks she barely wanted to exist. Now she’s thinking about the future again. Thinking about life after this. He loves that. Loves her for it. And that realization hits him so hard and suddenly that it almost physically startles him. Because they’re going back to the bunker. Back to their real lives. Back to what they had before. Except, they can’t. Not really. Not for him. He suddenly realizes with painful clarity that he cannot go back to pretending his feelings aren’t there. Not after everything. Not after almost losing her, watching her fight her way back to herself, staying beside her through every horrible night, seeing her smile at him again. His feelings aren’t small anymore. Maybe they never were. But now they feel impossible to hide. And now he isn’t nervous because she makes him flustered anymore. He’s nervous because telling her could change everything. If she doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? Would she still want to live with him at the bunker? Still want movie nights? Still want quiet mornings drinking coffee together? The thought of losing her friendship makes his stomach twist painfully. But somehow the idea of never telling her feels worse now. Because she deserves honesty. Even if it hurts him.

The rest of dinner passes in a blur for him after that realization. He responds automatically when spoken to. Helps clean up dishes mechanically. His thoughts keep spiraling. Eventually, while Nellie gets distracted by Dean insisting she help him build some ridiculous pillow fort before bed, He quietly approaches Sam near the sink. “Uh…” he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Can we talk?”

Sam glances over once. Already knowing. “Yeah,” he says easily.

A few minutes later they head toward the home office while the chaos of Dean’s bedtime negotiations continues elsewhere in the house. Once the door closes behind them, Jack immediately starts pacing slightly. Sam leans lightly against the desk, arms folded comfortably. Waiting him out.

He exhales shakily once. “We can’t go back like nothing changed.” He runs a hand nervously through his hair. “I thought maybe I could just… Not say anything. But now? She deserves to know.”

Sam watches him carefully. He looks genuinely distressed now.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?” he asks quietly. There it is too. The real fear. Not rejection itself. Losing her. “What if it makes things weird? What if she doesn’t want to live together anymore?”

The Winchester’s expression softens immediately because the concern is so deeply Jack. “Well first,” he says calmly, “I appreciate you coming to me about this. And honestly? I think you’re right. You can’t really pretend things haven’t changed anymore. But, you need to be prepared for different responses.”

He nods immediately. “I know.”

“She might only see you as a friend. She also might not be ready to talk about feelings like this yet. Even if she does care about you.”

He absorbs that quietly. Because honestly? That possibility scares him too.

“Nellie’s still figuring herself out again.”

“I know.” And he really does. He’s watched her rebuild herself piece by piece.

Sam watches him carefully for another moment before asking, “So why tell her now?”

“Because she deserves honesty. I don’t want her to think I expect anything. I don’t. But I also…” He laughs softly once, nervous. “I don’t think I can keep pretending anymore.”

That honesty earns the faintest smile from him. Because honestly? Everyone in the house already knows. He pushes gently off the desk then. “When you tell her, make sure she understands she doesn’t owe you an answer. And make sure she knows your friendship matters first.”

“That’s easy,” the young man replies quietly. Because it’s true. Nellie being in his life at all matters more than anything else.

He studies him for another long moment. Then finally says softly, “For what it’s worth? I think whatever happens, you’ve already proven you’re someone safe for her.”

That hits Jack directly in the chest. Because honestly? That matters more to him than any possible confession outcome. He is grateful for the conversation with Sam. The problem is that none of that actually makes him less nervous. If anything, it somehow makes him more nervous. Because now the possibility feels real. Now he knows he’s actually going to do it. And unfortunately for him, he is absolutely terrible at functioning normally when emotionally overwhelmed.

So that night he barely sleeps. He lays awake on the cot in the home office staring at the ceiling while his brain replays every possible version of the conversation. What if she gets uncomfortable? What if she thinks he only stayed because he liked her? What if she feels pressured? What if she panics? What if he words something wrong? What if she never feels safe around him again afterward? That last thought nearly makes him nauseous. Beside the cot, Miracle lifts his head sleepily at some point during the night before climbing up beside him uninvited. He absently pets the terrier while staring blankly upward.

“Thanks,” he mutters quietly when the dog settles against his side heavily.

Miracle sighs dramatically like he says, “You’re emotionally exhausting.”

He almost laughs despite himself. Eventually he falls asleep sometime close to dawn.

The next couple days are honestly pathetic. At least according to Jack. Because he keeps almost telling her. Almost. There are multiple opportunities. Too many opportunities. One evening they’re alone in the kitchen washing dishes together, he almost says it. Then Nellie smiles at him over something stupid Dean said earlier and suddenly his brain completely shuts down. Then there’s a late-night conversation on the back porch where she talks quietly about wanting to see the ocean someday. He almost tells her then too. But she looks peaceful. And he can’t bear the possibility of changing that expression if things go badly. So once again, nothing. By the third day he’s genuinely frustrating himself. Because he knows he needs to do this before they leave. Before they go back to the bunker pretending nothing changed. But every time he sees her happy, he becomes terrified of ruining it.

Finally, opportunity presents itself in a way Jack can’t really escape from. Dean is at school. Sam is working from home today. Eileen is buried in her own work. The house is unusually quiet. Jack had been folding laundry in the living room when he notices the back porch door cracked open. Through the glass he sees Nellie sitting outside in one of the porch chairs. Reading. Her legs are curled slightly beneath her. One of her oversized sweatshirts slipping loosely off one shoulder. A mug of tea beside her. Peaceful.

Jack pauses. Immediately his heart starts pounding. Because somehow this feels like the moment. Quiet enough. Private enough. Safe enough. He stands frozen in the hallway for almost a full minute arguing with himself internally. You need to do this. What if this ruins everything? She deserves to know. What if she doesn’t want you there afterward? His stomach twists painfully.

Nellie glances up briefly from her book and notices him through the doorway. Her expression immediately softens. And she gives him one of those small quiet smiles that always completely destroys his ability to think clearly. “You okay?” she asks softly.

He nearly loses all nerve instantly. But then he remembers nearly leaving. The almost goodbye. The way she looked relieved seeing him still there that morning at breakfast. Honesty matters. Even if it’s terrifying. He exhales slowly. Then finally steps outside onto the porch. “Yeah,” he says quietly. His voice already sounds nervous. “Can I…” He swallows hard. “Can I talk to you about something?”

The porch suddenly feels far too warm.

Her expression softens further immediately. “Of course.”

He sits rigidly across from her, every nerve in his body feeling painfully alive and like he might actually pass out.

She notices immediately how nervous he is. Her expression softens with concern. “Jack?”

His throat feels tight. He rubs nervously at the back of his neck before finally blurting softly, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for like… three days.”

That earns the faintest confused smile from her. Which somehow makes him even more flustered.

He exhales shakily, then finally starts talking. “When Aberiel first started showing up, I remember feeling scared. But not just scared because he was dangerous. I was scared for you. And then when he took you…” His voice cracks slightly. That alone tells her more than the words do. He swallows hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that broken before. But then seeing you come back, watching you heal, that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through.”

Her chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s blaming her. The exact opposite. Because every word sounds full of care.

He exhales slowly, then asks carefully, “Do you remember the djinn hunt?”

She blinks softly, surprised by the sudden shift. “Yeah. What about it?”

He shifts nervously in his seat. “In the dream…” He pauses. “Everything felt normal. Or at least what I thought normal was supposed to feel like. The dream-you was… different.”

“How?”

He immediately flushes. “She was more…” He gestures awkwardly. “Friendly?”

She stills.

He rushes onward before he completely loses nerve. “And at first, I thought that was just part of the dream trying to make me stay. Which it probably was. But after I woke up, I realized something. I liked that version of us.”

The porch suddenly feels very still.

Jack’s expression turns almost painfully vulnerable now. “And then I realized, I think I already wanted that before the dream.”

Nellie stares at him silently.

He keeps talking now, words finally spilling freer the longer he goes. “After that I started noticing things more.” His cheeks are visibly pink now. “The way you laugh at your own jokes before anyone else does. The way you explain books when you really love them. The way you pretend you don’t like being taken care of but secretly relax when someone helps. And you care so much about people. Even after everything that’s happened to you.”

She looks away slightly at that.

“I don’t mean that in a pity way,” he says quickly. “I just mean…” He struggles briefly. “You’re still kind. And I think you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.”

She genuinely doesn’t know what to do with hearing that. Because she still feels fragile so often. Broken sometimes. Yet he says it with absolute certainty.

He finally looks directly at her then and suddenly all the nervousness strips away into raw sincerity. “I really like you, Nellie. More than just my best friend.”

She just stares at him. Her expression solemn. Unreadable. Because Jack Kline — sweet, gentle, endlessly patient Jack — had just sat there and bared his soul to her like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like loving her was simple. Like she was something good. And she genuinely doesn’t know how to process that. Her chest feels tight. Too tight. Because all she can think is why? Why would someone like him want someone like her? He is kind, steady, good. He is warmth in kitchen lights. Tea after nightmares. Gentle hands. Soft patience. Safety. And she’s a psychic freak, a hunter, a girl held together more by stubbornness than stability. A girl who was touched and used long before Aberiel ever found her.

Her thoughts start spiraling violently. Maybe this is why he stayed. Maybe he pitied her. Maybe he felt responsible for her. Maybe he thought she was too broken to survive without someone helping hold her together. And underneath all of it, the old poison starts rising again. Her mother’s voice telling her, “Girls like you are only good for one thing.” The disgusting mutters from drunken boyfriends as their hands wandering over her clothes while they touched themselves. The way they looked at her like she was something consumable. Then Aberiel. His voice in her ear. His hands on her body. His lips too far up her thigh. Calling it worship. Calling her beautiful while violating her over and over again. The obsessive affection. The possessiveness. The way he acted like loving her gave him permission to use her.

Her breathing starts turning uneven. Because Jack cannot possibly mean this. Not truly. Not when he could have someone untouched. Someone normal. Someone who isn’t ruined. Someone who deserves romance. Not her. Not a girl who still sometimes panics changing clothes. Not someone who cries in showers. Not someone who still feels contaminated some mornings.

He watches her expression slowly collapse inward and his own stomach drops instantly. “Nellie…”

She stands abruptly.

He immediately rises too, startled.

She shakes her head quickly. “No.” Her voice is strained.

His heart twists immediately. “No?”

“You shouldn’t…” She struggles visibly for the words. “You shouldn’t feel that way about me.”

He blinks in confusion. “What?”

She looks almost panicked now. “You should’ve left.”

That hits him like a punch. He stares at her. “What are you talking about?”

“That night,” she says shakily. “When I told you to go. You should’ve left and moved on.”

Now he’s genuinely confused and hurt. “Nellie, why would I do that?”

“Because this—” She gestures vaguely toward herself now, visibly emotional. “This isn’t fair to you.”

“What isn’t?”

Her eyes shine with tears now. “You deserve someone better.”

He looks genuinely stunned by that. “What?”

“I mean it.” Her voice cracks. “You deserve someone normal.”

“Nellie…”

“No.” She’s breathing harder now, panic rising. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand.” His voice stays heartbreakingly gentle. That almost makes this worse. Because he’s still being kind. Still trying.

“You can’t understand!” “Why not, Nell—"

“Aberiel raped me, Jack!” She freezes immediately. She can’t believe she just said it out loud. Actually said it. To him.

Jack goes completely still. Not because he’s disgusted. Not because he suddenly looks at her differently. But because the sheer depth of pain behind that sentence devastates him instantly.

He knew what Aberiel did was horrific. He knew there had been abuse of that nature. But hearing her finally say the word aloud, it breaks something inside him.

Nellie sees the shock on his face and immediately interprets it wrong. Of course she does. Humiliation crashes through her violently. “Oh God—” She backs away instantly.

He snaps out of his stunned silence immediately. “Nellie, wait—” He steps toward her automatically. Wanting to comfort her. Wanting to tell her that that doesn’t change anything. That she isn’t ruined. That none of this makes her unlovable. But the moment he moves toward her, she flinches hard, like she expects impact. He stops right away, horrified at himself despite knowing why she reacted that way.

She looks equally horrified by her own reaction, tears spilling down her face now openly.

Before he can say another word, she turns and bolts into the house, the back door slamming shut. Only a few seconds later Sam and Eileen appear from inside, both alarmed by the obvious emotional explosion they just heard pieces of. They stop immediately when they see Jack standing there. He looks wrecked. Absolutely heartbroken. Tears in his eyes. Hands shaking slightly.

He looks toward them helplessly and all he can manage to say is, “I told her.” His voice cracks violently.

Sam immediately steps toward him while Eileen’s face crumples with heartbreak. Because they understand instantly what happened. Not every detail. But enough.

He drags a shaking hand down his face before tears finally spill over fully. “She—” His voice breaks hard. “She thinks—” He can barely get the words out.

She gently reaches for his arm, grounding him enough to keep talking. He looks devastated in a way neither of them has ever really seen before. Not because of rejection. That part barely even matters right now.

“She thinks that what Aberiel did makes her unlovable.” The pain in his voice is immediate. Raw. Like that realization physically hurts him. “That’s not— That doesn’t matter to me.” His breathing grows uneven again as he struggles to process the image now permanently burned into his head of Nellie crying while saying those words like they condemned her.

Eileen’s eyes shine immediately with tears too.

He starts talking quickly now, rambling emotionally because he can’t hold any of it inside. “She looked terrified after she said it,” he says brokenly. “Like she thought I was gonna hate her or something.”

The thought alone sounds unbearable to him.

Sam exchanges a quick look with his wife. Then she immediately moves toward the hallway. “I’m gonna go talk to her—”

“No,” he says gently but firmly.

She pauses.

His expression softens. “You stay here with Jack.”

She nods immediately.

He squeezes Jack’s shoulder once before heading quickly toward the guest room while his wife carefully guides the young man back inside. He barely seems aware of moving. She settles him onto the living room couch while he continues trying unsuccessfully to pull himself together. Miracle immediately jumps up beside him like the emotionally intuitive dog he somehow always becomes during crisis.

He grips the terrier absently while she sits beside him. “She thinks she’s ruined,” he says hollowly.

Her heart breaks hearing it. “She isn’t,” she says immediately.

“I know that.” And that’s what’s killing him. Because Nellie genuinely believes it. He wipes harshly at his face, visibly distraught. “I thought maybe she didn’t feel the same. I was ready for that.” His voice cracks again. “But not this.” Not hearing the girl he likes confess her violation like it made her fundamentally unworthy of affection.

She gently rubs his shoulder while he struggles through the emotions. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He immediately shakes his head. “But she flinched. I tried to go to her and she—” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“I scared her.”

“No. You didn’t.”

But Jack still looks unconvinced.

Meanwhile, Sam reaches the guest room. He knocks softly first. “Nellie?”

No response.

He waits a moment, then knocks again. “It’s Sam.”

Still nothing.

He tries one more time, giving her every possible chance to answer voluntarily. But the silence feels wrong. So finally, he carefully opens the door. The room is empty. The window beside the bed is pushed open slightly. He exhales sharply. Of course. He turns instantly and heads back down the hallway fast enough that Eileen stands immediately when she sees his expression. Jack looks up too, panic flooding his face instantly.

“She’s not there,” he says quickly. “The window’s open.”

Jack grabs instinctively for his jacket. “I’ll go—”

He stops him immediately. “No.”

“But—”

“Let me go to her, Jack. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

The young man looks physically torn apart by staying behind. But he nods shakily anyway.

Sam heads outside quickly. The front yard is empty. The street quiet. He checks down the sidewalk first. Nothing. Then realization hits him. The garage. A memory flashes immediately: finding Jack in the Impala after he almost left. He exhales softly. And sure enough, when he opens the side door to the garage, he sees someone curled into the passenger seat of the Impala. Nellie. Crying silently, completely folded into herself. His chest aches instantly. Because she looks exactly like someone who believes they just ruined the best thing they’ve ever been given. He approaches slowly. Doesn’t rush her. Doesn’t force conversation. He just carefully slides into the driver’s seat beside her. She doesn’t even look up at first. She just keeps crying quietly into her sleeves.

For a long while, he says nothing, letting the silence exist. Lets her feel it. Because he knows if he pushes too fast right now, she’ll retreat deeper into herself. Eventually her crying starts slowing. Not stopping completely, just softening enough that he thinks she might actually hear him now.

So finally, quietly, he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

She doesn’t answer. She curls tighter into herself instead, forehead pressed against her knees. He waits patiently. No pressure.

Eventually she speaks, but not to answer his question. “You and Eileen have to care about me because I’m family. But Jack doesn’t. He should’ve left. He should leave now.”

That hurts to hear. Not because he thinks she means it, but because he knows she genuinely believes she’s protecting Jack from herself. He exhales slowly before speaking carefully. “Eileen and I do care about you because you’re family. But not because we’re obligated to. We love you, Nellie. You’re family because we chose you too.”

Her breathing hitches faintly.

He glances toward her carefully. “You know, you’re honestly more like our daughter than our niece at this point. You’re like the best big sister we could’ve imagined for Dean.”

She squeezes her eyes shut hard. Because hearing good things about herself still physically hurts sometimes.

He lets that sit for a moment. Then she finally whispers, “Why would Jack even like me? He could find someone better.”

He expression softens immediately. “Nellie—”

“If he wasn’t stuck in the bunker with me all the time… I’m basically the only girl he’s around.”

He leans back slightly in the seat, studying her carefully. “What if that’s not why? What if he likes you because he genuinely enjoys you? What if he likes your personality? Your interests? The way you two live together? You really think Jack spent months reading through your entire book collection because there weren’t other books available?”

That actually catches her off guard slightly.

“He willingly sat through four different black-and-white movies because you said they were important to cinematic history.”

A tiny, embarrassed breath leaves her.

“He lets you infodump lore at two in the morning,” Sam continues. “And somehow looks more interested the longer you talk. He likes living life with you. Whether that’s on hunts. Or researching in the bunker. Or drinking coffee in the kitchen. What’s wrong with that?”

Nellie stares down at her hands for a long time. Then finally, so quietly Sam almost misses it, she says, “My mother says girls like me are only good for one thing.”

He entire chest aches hearing it. Because there it is. The poison. Not Aberiel originally. Older than that. Childhood deep-rooted damage.

Her voice shakes now. “That’s how men look at me. Like a toy.” Tears slip down her face again. “Aberiel knew that. That’s why he kept doing it. He knew I already believed that about myself.”

Silence settles heavily. Then he says gently, “Jack has never looked at you that way. He’s never treated you that way either. When he showed back up over a year ago and I suggested you two become hunting partners, I never would’ve done that if I thought he was dangerous. I knew him and I knew you two would work well together.”

A tiny sad breath escapes her. Because they do. Always have.

He gestures lightly. “You hunt well together. You live together well. You take care of each other. And if Jack was anything like those men? You would’ve known a long time ago. Because people like that don’t stay gentle when nobody’s watching.”

That sentence lands directly in her chest. She looks down again quickly.

“Even now, he’s not upset because you rejected him. He’s heartbroken because you think what happened to you made you unlovable.”

She visibly breaks at that. Because that’s exactly it.

His voice grows even gentler now. “Nell… that boy has loved you in a thousand quiet ways for a long time. He knows how you take your coffee. He knows what music calms you down. He packed your favorite books without being asked. He stayed up night after night outside your door because he was worried about you. And when he almost left? He didn’t stay because you caught him. He stayed because he realized leaving wasn’t helping you. He thought he was doing the loving thing by giving you space. But then he saw what leaving would actually do to you and he couldn’t do it. Jack doesn’t love you because of what you can give him. He loves you because you’re you.”

The tears come back. Not the violent panic from earlier. This is softer now. Exhausted. Like she’s emotionally wrung out. Sam doesn’t rush her. He simply reaches over carefully and gently pulls her into a hug. Loose enough that she never feels trapped. Secure enough that she can feel she’s loved. She folds into him almost immediately. And that alone breaks his heart a little. Because she still so badly needs someone safe to lean on. He rests one hand lightly against the back of her head while she cries quietly into his shoulder. No judgment. No pressure. Just warmth. Just safety.

The Impala feels strangely sacred in moments like this. A place where people fall apart honestly.

Eventually her breathing evens slightly. Not calm. But calmer. Sam gently asks, “If you took away the trauma for a second… If none of the bad memories were screaming at you… How would you feel about what Jack told you?”

For a long moment Nellie says nothing. Then finally, very quietly, she replies, “I’d be happy.” She curls slightly tighter into him before finally looking up, tears still clinging to her lashes. “He’s my best friend. And I feel safe with him.” There it is. The real truth beneath all the trauma noise.

His expression softens immediately.

She wipes at her face weakly before continuing. “When Aberiel first took me, I was scared. But I knew Jack would come find me. He never left me behind on hunts. So I knew he’d come for me.”

He closes his eyes briefly. Because Jack absolutely did. To the point of destroying himself trying. He exhales softly before speaking. “Jack barely ate or slept those two weeks. He was running himself into the ground trying to find you. And when we finally rescued you from the waypoint, the only reason Jack stopped fighting Aberiel was because Cas physically intervened. That boy wanted to make sure Aberiel could never hurt you or anyone else again. It honestly scared me a little. Because he’s not violent by nature. It was a miracle he didn’t kill Aberiel that night.”

She looks down shakily at her hands.

He hesitates briefly before continuing softer, “And those nights after your nightmares? The really bad ones? He used to fall asleep outside your door.”

Her head snaps up. “He what?”

“He wanted to make sure you never felt alone. Even if you never knew he was there.”

Her composure breaks again quietly. Not panic. Just overwhelming emotion. Because suddenly all those mornings where she woke feeling strangely comforted all those nights the house somehow felt less empty, Jack had been there. The entire time.

He gently squeezes her shoulder. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. But, I think you should probably go make things right with him.”

She nods shakily. “I know.” He starts to pull back slightly but she quietly asks, “Can we just stay here another minute?”

The vulnerability in the request hits him directly in the chest. “Of course, sweetheart.” And he pulls her close again without hesitation. Holding her carefully in the Impala while she slowly works through the wreckage inside her head. Trying, in every way he can, to be the father she needs in this moment. After a couple more quiet minutes, he gently squeezes her shoulder. “You ready?”

She exhales shakily. Not fully ready. But enough. So, she nods.

He climbs out first, then helps her out carefully even though she doesn’t really need the assistance anymore. Still, she accepts it anyway. The walk back to the house is quiet. The evening air feels cool against her flushed face. Nellie’s stomach twists harder with every step toward the front door. Because now she has to face Jack. And somehow that feels more terrifying than anything else tonight.

Sam opens the front door quietly. The moment they step inside, Jack looks up. He had clearly been waiting. He’s sitting on the couch with Miracle curled beside him, Eileen nearby trying unsuccessfully to distract him with quiet conversation. But the second he sees Nellie, he stands immediately. And her heart breaks. Because he looks devastated. Eyes red. Face exhausted. Hope and fear tangled painfully together. But what hurts most is that he doesn’t move toward her. Doesn’t rush her. Doesn’t corner her. He just stands there looking at her like if she tells him to back away, he will, even if it destroys him. That alone almost makes her cry again.

For one terrible second neither of them knows what to do. Then she quietly walks over and sits down on the couch next to him, he follows suit. He visibly stills in surprise before carefully sitting again too. Like he’s afraid any sudden movement might scare her away. Sam and Eileen stay silent nearby. Watching. Giving them space without actually leaving.

She looks down at her hands for a moment, then finally looks toward him. “I’m sorry for running out.”

He immediately shakes his head. “Nellie, it’s okay—”

She gently cuts him off. “No.” Her voice is soft but firm. “Just… let me say this first.”

He quiets immediately, listening completely.

She swallows nervously. “I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that. And it was just…” She exhales shakily. “A lot.”

He nods carefully. Not defensive. Just understanding.

She twists her fingers together nervously. “But I understand why you told me. We’re going back soon. And things are already changed. So, I understand why you didn’t want to pretend anymore.” The sincerity in her voice nearly undoes him.

He swallows hard before quietly saying, “I also understand if you don’t feel the same. I mean—” He gestures awkwardly. “I’m okay just being friends if that’s what you want.” The sentence sounds painful even though he means it honestly. “And if living together makes you uncomfortable, I can leave the bunker.”

Her head snaps toward him immediately. “Stop. Don’t say things like that.” She takes a shaky breath. Then finally says softly, “I like you too.”

He completely freezes.

Her cheeks flush faintly but she keeps going, voice quieter now. “I think I have for a while now. I just…” She struggles for the words. “Everything that happened made it hard to separate what was trauma and what was actually me feeling things. But if none of that had happened, I think I would’ve been really happy hearing what you said.”

He looks like his heart just stopped.

She gives a tiny shaky laugh. “And honestly…” Her eyes shine with emotion again. “I am happy. You’re my best friend, Jack. Nothing about this feels scary because it’s you.”

His eyes immediately fill again.

She takes another shaky breath. “I’d be willing to try if it was with you.”

That absolutely wrecks him emotionally. Not dramatically. Just pure overwhelming warmth and relief crashing through him all at once. She notices instantly. And somehow seeing how genuinely happy he looks makes something unclench painfully inside her chest.

He laughs softly once in disbelief. “You mean that?”

She nods shyly, a tiny smile finally touching her face.

He looks moments away from crying again honestly. “We don’t have to rush anything,” he says quickly. “At all. We could just…” He gestures awkwardly. “Test the waters? Then you could still heal and know the truth.”

That earns the smallest genuine laugh out of her. Because that phrasing is painfully Jack. She nods immediately. “That sounds nice.”

And suddenly both of them are smiling through tears.

Sam quietly wraps an arm around his wife’s waist watching from nearby while Eileen looks openly emotional. Because after everything, seeing these two find each other again feels almost miraculous.

Jack looks at Nellie carefully then. Still cautious. Still respectful. “Can I hug you?”

Her eyes immediately fill again. Because after everything that was taken from her, after all the control stolen from her, he still makes sure she chooses every step.

She nods softly. “Yeah.”

He moves carefully, slowly, giving her every chance to change her mind. Then gently pulls her into his arms. The hug is warm. Safe. Tender. Nothing demanding. Nothing possessive. Just Jack. She melts against him almost immediately, tears slipping down her face again as she hugs him back. And he honestly looks overwhelmed just holding her, like this alone is enough to make him happy. He eventually pulls back. Not abruptly. Slowly. Reluctantly. Like he already understands instinctively that even good things can become overwhelming if held too long. Still, his hands linger lightly on her arms for just a second before he fully lets go. And the moment he does, he looks at her. Really looks at her. His eyes are still wet with tears, but now there’s something else there too. Relief. Wonder. Happiness so genuine it almost looks unreal.

She looks back at him for a second before something finally breaks through all the fear and heaviness inside her. She smiles. Not the small hesitant smiles she’s been giving for weeks. Not the forced ones. This one is real. Bright. Warm. Alive. The biggest, truest smile she’s had since being rescued. And he honestly looks stunned by it. Like he’s witnessing something sacred. Because to him? It might be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. She notices immediately how hard he’s staring and flushes slightly.

He just shakes his head softly like he can’t help it. “You’re smiling.” The sheer awe in his voice immediately makes her laugh softly through the lingering tears.

Sam and Eileen finally decide that’s probably enough emotional staring for one afternoon and gently rejoin the conversation. Eileen sits down in the armchair nearby smiling warmly at both of them.

“Well,” Sam says with obvious satisfaction, “that went significantly better than the running away part.”

Nellie groans immediately in embarrassment. “Sam.”

Jack actually laughs weakly beside her, still visibly emotional.

Eileen smiles softly. “I think testing the waters is smart. There’s clearly mutual feelings here, but you’re also still healing.”

Sam nods in agreement. “And honestly,” he adds, “it’ll probably help easing back into bunker life too.”

Jack nods immediately. “That’s what I was thinking.” The bunker had always been theirs together: shared routines, shared responsibilities, shared space. Trying this slowly gives them room to adjust naturally instead of throwing labels and pressure onto everything immediately.

Eileen smiles warmly at her niece. “And it gives you time to get used to someone liking you this way.”

That sentence lands softly but importantly. Because that part still feels unreal to Nellie sometimes.

He notices immediately the complicated emotion flicker across her face. So before she can spiral again, he quietly says, “We already have everything I want.”

Everyone looks at him.

He immediately flushes slightly but keeps going anyway. “I mean…” He gestures awkwardly. “The things we already do. Hunting together. Living in the bunker. Research. Cooking. Movie nights.” His cheeks pinken further the longer he talks. “Doing chores together. Reading. Getting coffee.”

Nellie’s eyes shine again instantly.

“You’re already my favorite person to do life with.” He glances down nervously. “I still want all of that. I just also happen to like you.”

The honesty in the statement makes her tear up again immediately.

He notices and instantly panics slightly. “Was that too much?”

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. Her voice trembles softly. “It’s just… I never imagined life after Aberiel sounding so…” She struggles for the word. “Lovely.”

The entire room goes quiet. Because that sentence means so much more than she probably realizes.

He looks genuinely overwhelmed hearing it, his face flushing deep red again. “I mean every word,” he says softly.

Sam watches the two of them sitting there looking at each other like the rest of the room barely exists and honestly feels a little emotional himself. Because these are basically his kids at this point. He watched Nellie survive hell, Jack nearly destroy himself trying to save her, and both of them slowly fight their way back toward each other. So yes. He’s proud. Ridiculously proud. Of course, he’s also still Sam, which means eventually he ruins the emotional moment slightly on purpose. He leans back with a smug expression. “You know,” he says casually, “it’s actually about time.”

Both Nellie and Jack blink at him.

He grins. “Eileen and I were getting close to placing bets on how long it would take you two to figure this out.”

His niece immediately looks horrified. “You WHAT?”

Eileen looks entirely unapologetic. “To be fair,” she signs calmly, “you are both incredibly stubborn.”

Jack looks deeply embarrassed now. “We were not.”

The Winchesters both stare at him, he immediately realizing his mistake. Nellie actually laughs fully this time. A real laugh. And his expression softens instantly hearing it. Because honestly? After everything, he’d sit through a thousand teasing conversations if it meant hearing that sound again.

Eileen soon excuses herself to go pick up Dean from school and Sam disappears back toward his office to finish some work, the house grows quiet again. Not awkward quiet. Just new. Jack and Nellie are suddenly very aware what has shifted. And now they were trying to figure out what exactly came next. She wipes lightly at the lingering tears beneath her eyes while he keeps sneaking nervous glances toward her like he still can’t fully believe this conversation actually happened.

The silence stretches just long enough to become noticeable before he awkwardly clears his throat. “So…”

She immediately smiles a little because he sounds painfully nervous again.

He rubs at the back of his neck. “What would you like to do now?”

That question alone softens something in her chest. She thinks quietly for a moment.

He speaks again before she can answer. “I mean…” He gestures awkwardly. “We were planning to go back to the bunker in a few days. But we could stay a little longer if you wanted. Only if Sam and Eileen don’t mind. And only if you want to.”

She studies him for a second before her expression softens. “A couple extra days might be nice. It’d probably help us get used to…” She gestures vaguely between them.

His cheeks instantly turn pink. “…this?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, I’d like that.” The happiness in his voice makes her chest warm.

They lapse into another softer silence afterward. Not uncomfortable this time. Just thoughtful. Then Nellie glances toward him again. “Did you really sleep outside my door?”

Jack immediately freezes, then blushes hard. “…Sam told you that?”

She nods once.

He looks deeply embarrassed now. “Yeah,” he admits quietly.

She studies him carefully. “But why?”

“You already know why.”

“I mean besides the obvious reason now. You could’ve just stayed in your room.”

He grows quieter at that. For a second, he just looks down at his hands. Then finally says softly, “I knew you needed space. But I also didn’t want you to feel alone. Even if you never knew I was there.” He gives a tiny, embarrassed laugh afterward. “I actually fell asleep out there a lot. There were a couple of mornings Sam had to wake me up.”

Now she’s blushing too. Because the image is unbearably sweet. Jack curled outside her door just to make sure she wasn’t alone. She looks down briefly before saying quietly, “Thank you for not leaving. Even after I told you you could.”

He shakes his head immediately. “I just wanted you safe and healing.”

She smiles again. A real one. Then suddenly another thought hits her and she narrows her eyes slightly.

He notices immediately. “What?”

She tilts her head at him. “Were your feelings the reason you almost put Nathan into the ground?”

He immediately groans. “Oh no.”

She laughs softly. “That’s a yes.”

He drops his head into his hands briefly in embarrassment. “To be fair,” he mutters, “he was awful.”

“He was awful.”

Jack looks up again, expression darkening slightly at the memory. “He was honestly lucky I didn’t shoot him.”

That earns a startled laugh from her. “Jack.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” she says through another laugh. “And for the record, I was close to killing him myself. But I guess we’ll have to settle with killing his ego.”

Now they’re both chuckling softly. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But enough that the heaviness in the room finally starts lifting. Eventually the laughter fades into something softer again.

Nellie studies him carefully. “Are you really okay going back to hunting? Or are you only agreeing because I want to?”

Jack answers immediately. “Of course I’m worried. But I was already worried before Aberiel. Hunting’s always dangerous. But I still like doing it with you. And honestly, you were right. He would’ve come after you eventually either way. So, quitting wouldn’t actually change what happened. It just means we’re smarter now.”

She nods slowly. “More careful.”

He agrees immediately. “Exactly. And we won’t be doing it alone.”

That sentence settles warmly between them. Because that’s what this has always really been. Not just hunting partners. Not just friends. Two people choosing each other, even after everything. They’re slowly settling into something that had already existed long before either of them said it out loud. And honestly? It feels natural.

Then suddenly the front door bursts open. “NELLIE! JACK!”

Both of them jump slightly as Dean barrels into the house after school with all the unstoppable energy of a five-year-old. Eileen follows behind him carrying his backpack and lunchbox, immediately amused seeing both Jack and Nellie looking suspiciously emotional on the couch.

The little boy either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He immediately throws himself toward the living room excitedly. “You guys missed it!” he announces dramatically. “We got to hold worms in science today.”

Jack immediately smiles despite himself. “Wow. That sounds terrifying.”

“It wasn’t terrifying! It was epic!”

Nellie laughs softly again.

Dean pauses mid-ramble, immediately lighting up hearing it. Then without hesitation he grabs both their hands. “Mom says you two have to help me with my homework!”

Neither of them even gets a chance to object before he starts dragging them toward the kitchen table. Jack glances toward Nellie with a helpless amused look. She just smiles.

The boy’s after-school energy consumes the next couple of hours completely. Which honestly helps. Because while Jack and Nellie are both incredibly happy now, they are also painfully aware of each other in a brand-new way. And Dean’s chaos keeps either of them from overthinking too hard. He immediately ropes them into helping with his activity sheet at the kitchen table, dramatically explaining every answer like he’s solving world peace instead of kindergarten math.

Jack takes the assignment very seriously. Nellie, meanwhile, keeps catching herself smiling at the way he leans in attentively to help Dean sound out words. At one point he glances up and catches her staring. She immediately looks back down at the worksheet. He blushes faintly. Dean notices absolutely none of this. Thankfully.

After the worksheet is done, Dean insists they play for a while before dinner. So, Jack ends up on the living room floor helping construct an elaborate block fortress while Nellie watches fondly from the couch beside Eileen. And honestly? Seeing him relaxed and laughing with the little boy feels strangely healing. Not because it’s dramatic. Because it’s normal. Warm. Safe. Domestic in a way she never really imagined for herself before. Eventually she heads into the kitchen with her aunt to help with dinner while Jack remains trapped in block tower negotiations with Dean.

“You can’t put the dragon there,” he insists seriously.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s evil.”

The young man considers this carefully. “That’s fair.”

From the kitchen Nellie laughs softly hearing it. Eileen notices immediately. Not just the laugh. The difference. There’s a quiet lightness in Nellie now that had been missing for weeks. Not cured. Not magically healed. But lighter. More present.

She hands her vegetables to cut before gently asking, “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

She gives her a knowing look immediately. “Nellie.”

That earns a tiny embarrassed smile. The girl looks down at the cutting board for a moment before finally admitting softly, “I think…” Her cheeks warm slightly. “I think I’m the happiest I’ve been since being rescued.”

Her face softens instantly. “I’m really happy for you. You were both painfully obvious.”

She hides her face briefly in embarrassment.

From the living room Dean suddenly shouts, “JACK CHEATED.”

“I did not cheat,” Jack argues immediately.

“You moved the wizard!”

“He was strategically repositioned.”

Nellie laughs again despite herself. Eileen watches her niece carefully then. Really watches her. And seeing her niece laugh freely again after weeks of silence honestly feels emotional.

Dinner itself becomes an exercise in sweet mutual awkwardness. Because now both hunters are hyperaware of every tiny thing they already do for each other. Jack automatically hands her the pepper before she asks for it. Nellie gives him her extra sides. They both realize it at the same time. Then immediately avoid eye contact. Sam nearly chokes trying not to laugh. Eileen looks equally entertained. Dean remains blissfully unaware while explaining an extremely important schoolyard conflict involving crayons. At one point he gets up to refill her water out of habit. He pauses halfway through pouring because now he’s suddenly wondering: Was that too much? Should he ask first now? Are things different?

She notices instantly. “Jack,” she says softly. “You can still do normal things.”

Sam immediately looks away to hide his grin.

He blushes hard but visibly relaxes. “Okay.”

The warmth between them afterward becomes softer. Easier. Not forced. Just two people slowly realizing they don’t actually need to reinvent their relationship completely.

After dinner, Dean successfully convinces everyone into movie night through sheer determination. Which somehow results in the entire family squeezed into the living room with blankets and a dog exhausted from sleeping most of the day. The boy wedges himself directly between Jack and Nellie on the couch like this was always the intended arrangement. About halfway through the movie, he falls asleep leaning against her while clutching one of the throw blankets dramatically. The room grows darker and quieter after that.

And somewhere during the movie, she starts catching Jack looking at her. Not intensely. Not in a way that makes her uncomfortable. Just softly. Fondly. Like he still can’t fully believe she’s there beside him. The first few times she catches him, he immediately blushes and looks away. Which somehow only makes her blush too. Then eventually she starts sneaking glances at him too. He notices immediately. And the second their eyes meet in the dim living room, both of them smile instinctively. Small. Shy. Happy.

Sam watches this happen from the recliner and honestly has to physically stop himself from teasing them immediately. Eileen merely signs toward him, “Leave them alone.” He reluctantly obeys. For now. Because honestly? After everything they endured, seeing them sit there quietly smiling at each other in the dark feels worth protecting for just a little while longer.

Eventually movie night winds down, the credits rolling softly across the television while the house settles into nighttime quiet. Dean is completely asleep, sprawled dramatically across both hunters like he personally fought in a war today.

Sam stands first with a quiet groan. “Alright, buddy,” he murmurs, carefully lifting his son into his arms.

Dean barely stirs, immediately curling against his father sleepily.

Eileen smiles softly at the scene before looking toward the two. “Don’t stay up too late.” The look she gives them afterward is knowingly amused.

Nellie immediately flushes. Jack looks equally embarrassed. Sam absolutely notices. As he starts toward the stairs carrying Dean, he glances back once toward the young man and gives him the smallest knowing wink imaginable. Jack freezes completely. Because he both understands exactly what Sam means and absolutely does not know what to do with that information.

She catches the interaction immediately. “Was that a threatening dad wink or a supportive dad wink?”

He whispers urgently, “I genuinely don’t know.”

That earns another soft laugh from her.

Sam grins victoriously before disappearing upstairs with Eileen and Dean.

Soon the house is quiet again. Just Jack and Nellie left downstairs. For a second neither of them moves. Then slowly they start cleaning up blankets and cups together out of pure habit. And somehow even that feels different now. Softer. Warmer. Eventually they make their way down the hallway together. The guest room door comes into view and both of them slow instinctively, because this is where they split off for the night. She turns toward him softly. He immediately stops too.

For a second, she just looks at him, then quietly says, “I’m really sorry about how today started.”

His expression softens immediately. “Nellie—”

“I mean it.” Her voice is gentler now. Steadier. “I didn’t mean to run.”

He shakes his head immediately. “It’s okay.”

She looks uncertain.

“It really is,” he reassures softly. “You were overwhelmed. And honestly…” He gives a tiny awkward shrug. “Considering everything you’ve been through, I think your reaction made complete sense.” The sincerity in his voice loosens something painful in her chest.

Then she grows quieter again. Nervous.

He notices immediately. “What?”

She hesitates before finally asking softly: “Are you sure about this?”

“This?”

“Knowing what Aberiel did to me… That doesn’t change things for you?”

His heart aches instantly. Because he knows this question probably haunted her long before today.

“And you’re not…” She struggles slightly. “Doing this because you feel bad for me?”

He looks genuinely saddened hearing that. He steps a little closer instinctively, careful not to crowd her. “Nellie. It didn’t change my feelings at all. I don’t see you as disgusting or used.”

The emotion in his voice feels almost painful now. “I see you as my best friend. And someone who survived something horrible. You don’t need me to fix you.”

That sentence lands directly in her chest. Because that’s exactly what she was terrified of: becoming someone’s broken project. But he doesn’t look at her that way. At all. He just looks at her like she’s still Nellie. Her eyes grow wet again but this time her smile is shy. Warm. Then suddenly she pauses with a strange sheepish expression.

“What?”

She bites back a tiny laugh. “I just realized I have absolutely no idea how my dad is gonna react to this.”

Jack immediately goes still. Then awkwardly clears his throat. “Actually…”

She narrows her eyes instantly. “What does that mean?”

He looks deeply embarrassed now. “The night I almost left? He talked to me. He’s the one who convinced me to stay.” He pauses, his voice softening. “He told me about finding your soul.”

She stills immediately.

He watches her carefully. “He said you wanted to stay with him, but he talked you into coming back. And then he basically told me I was an idiot for trying to leave. He said you deserved to experience life with me.”

She just stares at him for a second. Completely speechless. Then finally she laughs softly in disbelief, covering part of her face. “Oh my God.”

He grins shyly. “So hopefully that means he approves?”

She laughs harder now trying to imagine this conversation happening between her terrifying father and emotionally devastated Jack. “That had to be horrifying for you.”

“It was deeply stressful,” he confirms immediately.

Now they’re both smiling again. Warm. Happy. And somehow unbelievably normal despite everything. Eventually the laughter fades softer.

She looks at him one last time before opening the guest room door. “Goodnight, Jack.”

The way she says his name now makes his entire chest warm. He smiles instantly. “Goodnight, Nellie.”

She slips into the guest room still smiling faintly. And he heads toward the home office feeling lighter than he has in a very long time. Not because everything is magically fixed. It isn’t. Healing will still take time. There will still be hard days. But now? They’re finally walking toward that healing together.

• • •

That night had felt lighter. For the first time in weeks, Nellie had fallen asleep with warmth in her chest instead of dread. Jack liked her. Really liked her. And somehow, he still looked at her gently after knowing the truth. That feeling stays with her as she drifts asleep.

Until the dream changes. She’s back in the waypoint. Not fully awake. Not fully asleep. That horrible in-between state she’d existed in during the final days of her captivity. Her body feels heavy. Weak. Barely responsive. The rot had been bad by then. She remembers now how often she drifted in and out of consciousness near the end, too exhausted and spiritually damaged to stay fully awake for long. But dream-her is aware enough to feel. And that alone is horrifying.

She feels soft fabric beneath her skin. The warmth of the bed. The terrible familiarity of his hands. Aberiel. He’s touching her again. His fingers slide across her stomach slowly, reverently, like he’s handling something precious instead of violating someone helpless. She feels the ghost of it even inside the dream. It makes her stomach turn violently. Then his mouth. Kissing slowly down her neck. Across her chest. Hands caressing her body while he murmurs softly to himself. The same disgusting “worship” he always called it. The same obsessive affection that made her feel less human every time he touched her. Dream-Nellie tries to move, but can’t, that helplessness crashing over her all over again. And he just keeps touching her. Undressing her slowly. Like this was intimacy. Like this was love. She feels tears slipping down her face in the dream.

And then, something changes. Because this time she hears something she somehow hadn’t fully processed before. He is talking. Not directly to her. To himself. His voice low and possessive as he kisses lower down her body. “He could never worship you properly.”

Her stomach twists.

His hand strokes possessively across her thigh. “He could never understand what you are.” Another kiss. Another caress. “He would only ever touch you like something temporary.”

Her breathing grows uneven inside the dream. Because suddenly, she realizes he’s talking about someone. Someone specific.

He laughs softly against her skin. “As if he deserves to even look at you.”

And then it hits her. Hard. Jack. He’s talking about Jack. Her unconscious mind hadn’t fully understood it before. Hadn’t connected the pieces through the haze of trauma and exhaustion and violation. But now? Now she understands. Aberiel knew. He knew Jack cared about her. And suddenly so many things make sickening new sense. The possessiveness. The marks. The obsession with her body. Not just lust. Not just fixation. Aberiel wanted ownership. He wanted to stain her with himself. To make her feel ruined. Claimed. Untouchable to anyone else. Especially Jack. The realization crashes into her violently as the dream continues.

His mouth moving lower, hands spreading her thighs. His voice is full of twisted satisfaction. “He’ll always know I had you first.”

Nellie wakes with a sharp gasp. The room is dark. Safe. But her body doesn’t know that yet. Her breathing comes hard and panicked immediately as she jerks upright in bed. Her skin crawls violently. She can still feel him. The phantom sensation of his mouth and hands clinging to her body like something rotten buried beneath her skin. And now the realization behind it all makes everything worse. He wanted to hurt Jack too. Not physically. Emotionally. Possessively. Aberiel wanted her to feel tainted forever. Wanted Jack to look at her and only think of him. The thought alone makes her feel violently sick.

She clamps a shaking hand over her mouth as tears spill immediately down her face. She feels disgusting. Contaminated. Used. Like Aberiel somehow reached into this one good thing she’d finally found and poisoned it too. A broken sob escapes her before she can stop it. And suddenly the happiness from earlier feels terrifyingly fragile beneath the crushing weight of the nightmare, like she’s been dragged backward weeks.

She has to get out, out of the bed, out of the room. She stumbles out of the guest room, shaking as she holes up in the bathroom. All the warmth from earlier feels distant now. Corrupted. Her hands tremble as she turns the shower on, sliding into the tub. The water soaks through her clothes completely, fabric clinging heavily to her body, but she barely notices. All she can feel is him. His mouth. His hands. Those horrible words. Aberiel’s words loops endlessly in her head now.

“He’ll always know I had you first.”

She lets out another broken sob. Her nails drag across her skin again. Hard. She scratches at her collarbone first. Then her arms. Then her thighs through the soaked fabric. Trying to get rid of the feeling. Trying to claw herself out of her own body. But she can’t. She can still feel phantom touches everywhere. And now every memory feels poisoned by the realization that Aberiel wanted this, wanted her to feel ruined forever. Wanted Jack to see her and think of him. The thought makes her stomach twist violently again. She throws up into the shower floor, crying harder afterward when she realizes she doesn’t even care. She feels disgusting anyway. The happiness from earlier slips through her fingers no matter how hard she tries to hold onto it. She had been happy. For a little while she really believed maybe she could still have something good after all of this. Now she feels filthy for even wanting it.

Down the hallway, Miracle suddenly starts barking sharply outside the bathroom door.

The noise jolts Jack awake immediately. He sits up disoriented in the home office while the terrier whines anxiously. He rubs tiredly at his face before noticing the empty hallway light spilling beneath the office doorway. Confused, he gets up. The moment he steps into the hallway, he hears the shower running. At first, he relaxes slightly. Just Nellie. But then beneath the water, he hears crying. Not quiet crying. Broken crying. He freezes instantly. His stomach drops hard. For one terrible second, he just stands there helplessly staring at the bathroom door while the dog continues whining anxiously nearby. He wants to help. God, he wants to help, but he can’t just walk in there. And she sounds bad. Really bad.

He runs a shaking hand through his hair before making a quick decision. He quietly heads upstairs and knocks urgently on Sam and Eileen’s bedroom door. There’s immediate movement inside. A moment later Sam opens the door looking confused and worried. “Jack?”

“Could Eileen maybe check on Nellie?”

His expression sharpens immediately. “What happened?”

Jack swallows hard. “She’s in the bathroom crying.”

He immediately turns back toward the room and goes over to his wife’s side, gently waking her. Within seconds all three of them are downstairs. Jack hangs back slightly while Eileen approaches the bathroom first.

She knocks gently. “Nellie?”

No response. Only the sound of the shower and crying.

Her face falls immediately. “Nellie, honey, I’m coming in.”

Still no answer. Thankfully the door isn’t locked.

She carefully opens it and immediately her heart shatters. Nellie is sitting fully clothed in the shower. Soaking wet. Curled inward. One hand scratching frantically at her own skin while she cries so hard, she can barely breathe. There’s vomit near the drain. And she looks completely wrecked.

“Nellie.”

The girl startles violently at the sound of her voice. For one awful second, she looks disoriented enough not to recognize her. Then realization crashes back in. “Eileen…” Her voice completely breaks apart.

She kneels beside the tub immediately. “Oh sweetheart…”

Nellie shakes her head rapidly. “No. No no—” Her breathing spirals harder. She scratches at herself again and her aunt carefully catches her wrist.

“Hey,” Eileen says softly. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

She lets out another devastated sob. “I can still feel him.”

Outside the bathroom, Jack physically flinches hearing that through the running water, but he and Sam can’t make out the rest of the conversation. Sam’s face tightens immediately. The two men exchange a worried glance before instinctively stepping farther back down the hallway, giving the two women privacy.

Inside the bathroom, Nellie curls tighter into herself. “He knew,” she cries brokenly.

Eileen keeps her voice calm. “Knew what?”

Her breathing stutters violently. “He knew Jack liked me. That’s why he did it— Like he knew that there was a chance he would fail the ritual. He wanted to ruin me for him.” The realization sounds like it’s destroying her all over again. “He kept talking about him. I didn’t understand it before but now I do—”

The woman’s heart breaks hearing the panic and disgust in her voice.

“He wanted Jack to think I belonged to him.” She starts crying harder. “And now Jack knows what he did and I just—” She chokes hard on another sob. “I feel disgusting.”

Eileen immediately shakes her head. “No.”

Nellie sobs harder. “I can still feel him touching me.”

Her eyes sting but she keeps herself grounded. “He is gone,” she says gently but firmly. “He cannot hurt you anymore.”

“But he still did it.”

Silence. Painful silence. Because no one can deny that part. Eileen carefully reaches over and turns the shower off. The sudden quiet fills the room heavily. Nellie immediately curls tighter inward. The woman grabs a towel nearby and drapes it carefully around her shoulders. “You had a trauma response tonight,” she says softly.

The girl shakes uncontrollably. “It feels like everything got worse again.”

“That doesn’t erase the healing you’ve done.”

“It feels like it does.”

“You’re safe,” she keeps reminding gently. “You’re home.” She then opens the door and pokes her head out. Her expression immediately softens seeing both Jack and Sam still waiting anxiously in the hallway. “Could one of you grab Nellie some clean clothes?”

Jack moves instantly. “Yeah.” He’s already halfway to the guest room before Sam can even respond.

The room is dim and still messy from earlier in the evening, blankets tangled from where Nellie had rushed out in panic. He heads straight for her duffel bag, kneeling beside it and carefully pulling out some soft clothes: loose sweatpants, a large sleep shirt, a sweatshirt, and clean socks. His hands hesitate for a second before he reaches toward the bed and grabs the stuffed dog too. He remembers how tightly she clung to it during those first awful weeks. How she still slept with it on hard nights. He swallows hard around the ache in his throat before heading back to the bathroom.

Eileen opens the door just enough to take the clothes from him. When she sees the stuffed dog tucked under his arm too, her expression softens painfully. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

He just nods. He catches the briefest glimpse past her shoulder of Nellie curled inward beside the tub, wrapped tightly in towels and shame. Then the door closes again. He steps back beside Sam looking wrecked. For a moment he just stares at the bathroom door before quietly asking, “Did I cause this?”

Sam immediately shakes his head. “No.”

But his face tightens anyway. “She was happy earlier,” he says softly. “And then I told her all of that and now—”

“Jack.” The Winchester’s tone turns firmer. “This is not your fault. She was always going to have nights like this.”

He looks down. “But I caused all the emotions from yesterday.”

Sam understands why he thinks that. But he also knows trauma doesn’t work that neatly. “You didn’t hurt her by loving her. She had a trauma response.”

Jack rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Those memories were already there.” And that’s the awful truth of it. The happiness probably made her feel safe enough for her brain to finally process another piece of what happened. Trauma healing was never going to be linear.

He places a hand briefly on the boy’s shoulder. “You being here isn’t making her worse. You staying is probably one of the only things helping her through this.”

His eyes sting immediately hearing that.

Before he can respond, the bathroom door finally opens again. Eileen steps out first, guiding her niece gently beside her. Nellie is now dressed in dry clothes, oversized sleeves pulled over her hands slightly. Her hair is damp. Eyes swollen red. Expression exhausted and ashamed. The moment she notices Jack standing there, embarrassment floods her face instantly. He visibly wants to go to her. But he stays where he is. Giving her space. Still, he can’t hide the concern in his eyes. And she notices. That somehow makes the shame worse.

Eileen gently guides her toward the guest room. Jack quietly moves aside to let them pass. But instead of heading toward the home office afterward, he simply sits down outside her bedroom door. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Nellie stops immediately. Her expression crumples slightly. “Jack…”

He looks up at her softly. “You should go back to bed.”

The embarrassment in her voice is painful. Like she hates that he saw any of this.

He just shakes his head lightly. “Get some sleep.” Simple. Gentle.

She looks like she wants to argue. Probably tell him he doesn’t have to do this. Doesn’t have to stay. Doesn’t have to care this much. But she’s too emotionally exhausted. So, instead she just lowers her eyes and quietly slips back into the guest room, her aunt following behind her. Before closing the door, she looks back once toward him sitting there in the hallway with tired worried eyes. He gives her the smallest reassuring nod possible. Then the door shuts quietly.

Sam looks down at the young man, Miracle immediately curls against his side protectively. He can’t help smiling a little at the sight despite everything. “You’re staying there all night, huh?”

Jack looks toward the door. “Probably.”

He sighs softly, fondness clear beneath the exhaustion. Then he gives the boy’s shoulder one last squeeze before heading back upstairs.

The house settles again afterward. Quiet. Jack leans his head back against the wall, listening carefully. At first, he can still hear muffled crying from inside the room. Soft. Broken. But nowhere near as violent as before. Eventually it starts quieting. His eyes slowly begin drooping too. Exhaustion finally catching up to him.

He’s halfway asleep when the guest room door opens quietly again. Eileen slips out softly into the hallway. She pauses immediately seeing him still there. Asleep sitting upright against the wall, Miracle curled tightly beside him. Her expression softens painfully. Without waking him, she quietly walks to the hallway closet and pulls out a blanket. Then gently drapes it over his shoulders. He stirs slightly but doesn’t fully wake.

She crouches beside him briefly. “She’s okay,” she whispers softly.

He nods sleepily anyway, even half-asleep still listening for her.

She watches him for another quiet moment before heading back upstairs, leaving him asleep outside the door once more, still keeping watch even when Nellie never asked him to.

• • •

Jack wakes up at his usual time despite the terrible sleeping position. His neck hurts. His back aches. One of his legs is completely numb from the angle he apparently fell asleep at. But honestly? He doesn’t care. The first thing he notices is that the guest room is still quiet. No crying. No panicked movement. No shower running. Just silence. Relief settles heavily in his chest at that, even as sadness lingers underneath it. Because he hates that last night happened at all. He hates that after everything good yesterday, trauma still managed to sink its claws into her that deeply.

He rubs tiredly at his eyes before carefully shifting Miracle off his lap. The terrier grumbles sleepily but eventually allows it. He stands slowly with a wince. Definitely not comfortable. Still worth it. He stares at the guest room door for one more second before making a decision. Normal. Nellie needs normal. Not pity. Not everyone staring at her sadly. So, he does exactly what he’s done every morning for weeks now. He heads for the kitchen.

Eileen is already awake. The coffee pot is nearly done brewing and she’s leaning tiredly against the counter, clearly having not slept much after everything. She looks up the moment he walks in. Her expression immediately softens seeing him. She signs him a quiet good morning. He signs one back automatically before reaching for a mug.

She glances toward him knowingly. “How’d you sleep?”

He gives a small, tired laugh. “Decently.” Which is probably generous considering he slept against a hallway wall. Still, he pours himself some coffee anyway. For a few quiet moments neither says anything. Then he finally asks softly, “What happened last night?”

She studies him carefully. “It was a nightmare,” she admits gently. “I think yesterday just brought up a lot of emotions. The good and bad kind.”

That hurts because he knows she’s right. The confession. The happiness. The vulnerability. The fear. All of it cracked something open emotionally. And trauma tends to hit hardest once someone finally feels safe enough to process it.

She seems to read exactly where his thoughts are going. “This wasn’t your fault. She probably would’ve had a night like that eventually anyway.”

He wraps both hands around the warm mug quietly. “It just feels connected to me.”

Her expression softens further. “I know.” And honestly? It is connected. But not because he hurt her. Because loving someone after trauma is terrifying. Especially when that trauma involved violation and possession. “She’s going to have dreams like that for a while.”

He visibly aches hearing it. But he nods. Because he already suspected that. “What happens when we go back to the bunker? You and Sam won’t be there.” There’s genuine fear beneath the question. Not fear of Nellie. Fear of failing her.

She sets her mug down before answering. “Nellie’s had nightmares for years. The difference now is the content. She already has coping methods, routines, as you know. So mostly? You keep doing what you’ve already been doing. Giving her space when she needs it. Treating her normally. Being steady. But there may be moments where she does need you to step in.”

He immediately looks worried again. “How do I know?”

She smiles faintly. “You’ll know.” And honestly? She believes that completely. Because despite how nervous Jack constantly is about messing things up. His instincts with Nellie have consistently been gentle and correct. “You two just need to talk about boundaries and what helps.”

“That makes sense.” There’s another quiet pause. Then Jack looks genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry I woke you both up.”

Eileen immediately shakes her head. “Jack, you did exactly the right thing.” She reaches over and squeezes his arm gently. “She’s lucky to have you.”

His face immediately flushes faintly.

Dean shuffles into the kitchen rubbing at one eye, his dinosaur pajamas crooked and hair sticking up wildly from sleep. He pauses blearily in the doorway, immediately spotting Jack. Without hesitation, he walks straight over and climbs into the young man’s lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He automatically steadies him with one arm while balancing his coffee carefully with the other. “Morning,” he says softly.

The boy yawns dramatically. “Mornin’.” He blinks around the kitchen for a moment before asking sleepily, “Where’s Nellie?”

His expression softens instantly. “She’s still sleeping. So we should probably let her rest.”

That seems acceptable enough to the five-year-old.

Jack glances toward the hallway for a moment, clearly thinking. Then an idea occurs to him. “You know what might make her feel better when she wakes up?”

“What?”

“We could make her some drawings.”

Dean gasps like this is the greatest idea he has ever heard. “Yes!”

He laughs quietly. “She always likes your drawings.”

That completely seals it. The boy scrambles off Jack’s lap immediately and darts to the cabinet where the art supplies are stored. “I need crayons!”

Within minutes the kitchen table is completely overtaken by paper, crayons, and markers. He aggressively organizes colors with all the intensity of someone preparing military strategy. Jack watches fondly before finally sitting beside him. Eileen quietly starts pulling breakfast ingredients from the fridge while watching the scene unfold. And honestly? The sight is painfully sweet. Jack suggesting they make Nellie drawings because he wants her to wake up to something soft and normal after such a hard night. Not because anyone asked him to, just because caring for her has become instinctive.

Dean immediately starts narrating their artistic mission. “I’m drawing Miracle breathing fire.”

Jack nods seriously. “That’s important.”

He suddenly narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You have to draw too. No escaping.”

Eileen immediately hides a smile behind her coffee mug.

The young man sighs in fake defeat. “Okay.”

He cheers victoriously. “You should draw dragons again.”

“Why dragons?”

“Because Nellie likes them and you’re good at drawing them.” Simple as that.

Jack laughs softly under his breath before obediently starting another dragon sketch.

Eileen catches sight of it while cracking eggs into a bowl. It’s actually really good. He notices her looking and immediately ducks his head in embarrassment. She just gives him a warm knowing smile.

A little while later, Sam finally comes downstairs looking tired but awake enough for coffee. He stops immediately at the sight before him. His son surrounded by crayons. Jack hunched over a drawing with surprising concentration. His wife making breakfast while clearly entertained by both of them.

He raises an eyebrow. “…What exactly happened here?”

Dean gasps dramatically. “We have a VERY important mission.”

He immediately nods solemnly. “Of course you do.”

The boy proudly holds up a drawing. “We’re making Nellie feel better.”

That makes his expression soften instantly. He glances toward Jack immediately understanding what’s happening here. The young man just shrugs awkwardly without looking up from his dragon. Sam can practically see the thought process: last night was awful, Nellie will feel embarrassed, so today needs to feel normal and soft. Honestly? His heart hurts a little watching it. Because Jack loves her so quietly sometimes. He grabs himself coffee before wandering closer to inspect the drawings. “You know,” he says casually, “you’re getting pretty committed to these coloring sessions.”

Jack immediately looks embarrassed.

Dean points accusingly. “He likes drawing for Nellie.”

He flushes hard.

Sam grins instantly. “Ah. There it is.”

He groans softly. “Sam.”

Eileen laughs quietly from the stove.

Sam claps him lightly on the shoulder anyway. “I’m just saying, this is very sweet of you.”

He looks deeply offended by the teasing while simultaneously continuing to carefully color the dragon wing. Which completely ruins his argument.

Dean, blissfully unaware of the emotional subtext of literally anything, proudly announces, “Nellie’s gonna love these.”

And honestly? Jack really hopes he’s right.

The boy ends up drawing far more than just a couple pictures. At first, it’s Miracle breathing fire, then apparently a “battle dog,” then several stick figure family portraits that become increasingly difficult to interpret. By the time Eileen finally steps in, there are at least twelve drawings spread across the kitchen table.

“Okay,” she says gently but firmly, “we need enough room to actually eat breakfast.”

He gasps dramatically. “But the art isn’t finished.”

“It never is,” Sam mutters into his coffee.

Jack laughs softly. “Come on,” he tells Dean, helping gather crayons. “We can finish later.”

He reluctantly agrees.

The young man helps him organize the crayons back into their containers while Eileen clears space on the table. The completed drawings get stacked carefully on the counter nearby, ready for Nellie whenever she wakes up. He glances toward the pile more than once while helping set the table. He really hopes they make her smile after last night.

Breakfast itself is quieter than normal. Not tense. Just careful. Everyone instinctively keeps their voices lower so they don’t wake Nellie.

Dean notices this eventually. “Why are we whispering?”

“Because Nellie’s sleeping,” Eileen explains softly.

He looks mildly horrified. “She’s gonna miss breakfast.”

She smiles patiently. “I already set food aside for her.”

That seems to satisfy him somewhat. Then, because he is incapable of leaving silence alone for more than thirty seconds, he turns toward Jack very seriously. “You know Nellie is a zombie in the morning, right?”

Jack bites back a smile. “Is she?”

He nods gravely, as if the young man hadn’t shared a bunker with his cousin for over a year. “She loves sleeping.”

Sam snorts quietly into his coffee because that is objectively true.

He continues confidently, “Sometimes she just stares at walls before coffee.”

Jack laughs softly now. “I’ve noticed.”

He points dramatically. “See? Zombie.”

From across the table Eileen catches the young man smiling fondly at the description and has to hide her own smile behind her mug. Because honestly? It’s sweet watching Jack adore even Nellie’s exhausted morning habits.

Breakfast finishes not long afterward. Sam heads upstairs to get ready for the day while Eileen starts cleaning the kitchen. Dean, however, immediately latches onto his next mission. He grabs Jack’s hand. “Cartoons.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” The answer is immediate and absolute. “We gotta wait for Nellie.” Like this is perfectly logical reasoning.

He glances toward Eileen helplessly. She just smiles knowingly. “Have fun.”

And just like that, Jack gets dragged into the living room for morning cartoons. Dean sprawls dramatically across the couch while Miracle curls nearby. He sits beside the little boy, tired but calmer now than he was a couple hours ago. The classic animated chaos on the television fills the quiet house while morning sunlight spills softly through the windows. Every once in a while, he glances unconsciously toward the hallway. Toward the guest room. Still worried. Still listening for movement. But for now, the house feels peaceful again.

At some point later that morning, Nellie finally wakes up. For a moment she just lays there staring at the ceiling. Her body feels heavy. Emotionally drained. But rested. Surprisingly rested considering how horrible the night had been. And once she really thinks about it, she realizes she hadn’t had another nightmare after Eileen helped her back to bed. No panic. No memories. No waking fear. Just sleep. Her thoughts drift immediately toward the hallway outside her room. Toward Jack. And before she can stop herself, she thinks Maybe it was because he was there. The thought makes warmth creep instantly into her exhausted face. She buries part of her face into the pillow immediately afterward, embarrassed with herself. That’s ridiculous… Probably. Still, the warmth lingers anyway.

Eventually she forces herself out of bed and heads quietly toward the bathroom. The mirror becomes her first mistake. She freezes slightly seeing the angry red marks scattered across her skin from where she scratched herself raw the night before. Along her forearms. Near her collarbone. Faint marks climbing above the collar of her sleep shirt. Shame curls immediately in her stomach. Last night suddenly feels painfully real again. She quickly looks away before she can spiral. Brushes her teeth mechanically. Splashes water on her face. Runs nervous fingers through her still messy hair. Then escapes the bathroom before she can stare at herself any longer.

She starts toward the kitchen automatically, expecting quiet. Instead, she hears familiar cartoon audio drifting from the living room. She pauses, then slowly follows the sound. The sight waiting for her softens something inside her chest instantly. Dean has somehow convinced Jack into morning cartoons. The little boy is sprawled dramatically across the couch beneath a blanket while Jack sits beside him, looking surprisingly invested in whatever animated disaster is currently happening onscreen.

Miracle notices her first. The terrier immediately hops off the couch and trots toward her happily. She smiles faintly despite herself and bends slightly to pet him. Only then does Jack glance over automatically toward where the dog went and jumps slightly when he sees her standing there. She realizes with embarrassment that she’d apparently just been standing behind the couch silently for who knows how long. He looks relieved first. Then concerned. Then soft. All within about two seconds. She suddenly becomes painfully aware of how rough she probably looks. Messy hair. Sleep-heavy eyes. The faint red scratching marks visible above her collar and down her arms. She awkwardly rubs one sleeve over her wrist instinctively.

Dean immediately lights up. “NELLIE!” The sheer enthusiasm makes her smile a little. Then the boy squints at her dramatically. “You look like a morning zombie.”

The young man snorts softly beside him.

She lets out a tired laugh. “That’s mean.”

“It’s true,” he says proudly.

Jack shakes his head fondly before looking back toward Nellie. “Come sit down.”

She hesitates slightly. “I was gonna get coffee first—”

“I’ll get it.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You look like you’d walk into the wall trying to get to the kitchen.”

The deadpan seriousness in his voice catches her completely off guard. She laughs tiredly despite herself. Even Dean giggles. She nods in surrender and slowly moves around the couch. The second she sits down, the little boy immediately crawls halfway into her lap while continuing to ramble about the cartoons. Apparently, there’s now an extremely important plot involving a duck and “illegal space lasers.” She listens sleepily while petting his hair absently.

Jack disappears into the kitchen. A moment later Eileen looks up from the counter and immediately softens seeing her niece awake. She signs her a gentle good morning. Nellie signs one back tiredly.

She studies her carefully for a second before signing, “Want breakfast?”

The girl hesitates before shaking her head lightly. “Not really hungry.”

She doesn’t push. Just nods knowingly.

A minute later Jack returns carrying a mug carefully in both hands. Nellie immediately notices he made it exactly how she likes it. Of course he did. He gently hands it to her without making a big deal about it. Their fingers brush briefly. Both immediately blush slightly. He settles back onto the couch afterward while she wraps both hands around the warm mug. And despite the lingering shame from last night, the exhaustion, the ugly heaviness still sitting inside her chest, this feels normal. Safe. He doesn’t stare at her differently. Doesn’t treat her delicately. He just keeps softly existing beside her while Dean rambles between them. Still, every so often she catches him glancing toward her quietly. Checking. Making sure she’s okay. Not overwhelmed. Not slipping away again. And yes, his chest aches seeing the marks on her skin. Because he knows exactly how bad the panic must’ve been for her to hurt herself like that. But he also sees something else. She still got up this morning. Still came out of her room. Still sat beside them. Still chose to keep trying after such a horrible night. And honestly? He thinks that might be one of the bravest things he’s ever seen her do.

About halfway through the cartoons, Dean suddenly gasps like he’s just remembered something critically important. “The pictures!” Before anyone can stop him, he scrambles off the couch and races toward the kitchen.

She blinks sleepily after him over the rim of her coffee mug. Jack already knows exactly what he’s talking about.

A few seconds later the boy comes running back holding the entire stack of drawings against his chest triumphantly. “We made these for you!”

Her expression immediately softens. “Did you?”

He climbs back onto the couch beside her and practically shoves the stack into her hands.

She sets her coffee carefully on the table before taking them. And despite how emotionally drained she still feels, the sight alone warms something aching inside her. She takes her time going through them one by one while he excitedly explains each drawing in significantly more detail than the pictures themselves require.

“This one is Miracle fighting a dragon.”

She studies the crayon chaos seriously. “Obviously.”

“And THIS one is all of us fighting monsters.” Then he excitedly points to another page. “That one is you and Miracle.”

“Why does Miracle have wings?”

“Because it’s cooler.”

Jack quietly hides a smile beside her.

She continues flipping through the pictures slowly. Each one softens her expression more. Not because they’re masterpieces. Because they were made for her. After last night, after waking up feeling disgusting and ashamed, being handed something so innocent and loving feels almost painfully healing.

Dean suddenly remembers something else. He snatches one drawing from the stack and shoves it directly toward Jack. “Show her yours.”

He immediately flushes. “Dean—”

“You HAVE to.”

Nellie looks over curiously.

He looks deeply embarrassed now. “It’s not really important.”

The boy gasps dramatically at the betrayal. “It’s the BEST one.”

He sighs softly in defeat before finally taking the paper. He hesitates for a second before handing it toward her shyly. It’s another dragon. But unlike Dean’s wonderfully chaotic creations, Jack’s drawing is detailed and careful. The dragon is curled protectively around a castle with stars sketched behind it. And somehow, it feels gentle. She stares at it quietly for a second too long. Because after the nightmare last night, after feeling owned and tainted and ruined, this drawing feels like the complete opposite of that. Protective. Soft. Safe.

She looks up at him slowly. And he immediately sees it. The relief in her eyes. The quiet emotion there. He suddenly feels shy all over again.

“It’s just a drawing,” he mumbles awkwardly.

But she shakes her head softly. “No. It’s really pretty.”

He blushes instantly.

She carefully adds it back into the stack with Dean’s drawings like it belongs there equally. Then she looks at both of them. “Thank you.”

Her cousin beams proudly. Jack just smiles softly. But her eyes linger on him a second longer than necessary before she finally looks away again, embarrassed in about twelve different ways now. He notices immediately. And he understands. She’s still sorting through a lot emotionally. Still learning how to exist inside these new feelings without shame swallowing them. So, he doesn’t push. Doesn’t tease. He simply reaches for the remote and quietly turns the cartoons back on again. Then settles back into the couch beside Dean and Nellie while Miracle curls sleepily against her legs. The morning sunlight spilling across the living room makes everything feel warm and slow and safe.

At some point Sam passes through on his way from upstairs. He pauses immediately seeing the scene before him. Dean sprawled dramatically between Jack and Nellie. Cartoons playing softly. Miracle asleep. Nellie clutching coffee while visibly fighting sleep again. Honestly? It’s sweet enough to physically hurt him a little.

He smiles softly. “Morning, zombie.”

She immediately rolls her eyes without opening them fully, contemplating flipping him off. “Go away.”

He laughs quietly. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep sitting up.”

“She probably is,” Jack says softly.

She lightly kicks his foot without any real force behind it.

Dean gasps dramatically. “Fight, fight, fight!”

Now even she laughs quietly. And as she settles deeper into the couch surrounded by warmth and familiar voices, she realizes she feels better than she expected to after last night. Not fixed. Not magically healed. But steadier. And for now, that’s enough.

• • •

The next several days pass far more gently than the weeks before them. Not perfectly. But gently. And after everything, that feels almost miraculous. Nellie still has nightmares sometimes. There are nights she wakes tense and shaky, memories lingering unpleasantly at the edges of her mind. But none spiral into the kind of terror that night in the bathroom became. No more sobbing on the shower floor. No more scratching herself raw. And honestly? She quietly chalks part of that up to happiness. Not overwhelming happiness. Not magical healing. Just warmth. The kind she never expected to have after everything. Because now she knows. Jack likes her. Really likes her. And somehow that knowledge settles into her life naturally instead of disrupting it. He doesn’t suddenly become overbearing or possessive. Doesn’t hover. He’s still Jack. Still respectful. Still patient. Still careful with her space.

But now? Now she notices everything. The way he automatically makes her coffee before she asks. How he quietly hands her pain medicine after a headache before she even realizes one is forming. How he always walks slightly closer to the road when they’re outside. How he unconsciously grabs the heavier grocery bags first. How he listens to her ramble about books and music like it’s the most important thing in the world. None of it is new. That’s the thing that affects her most. He was already loving her quietly before either of them said anything. And now that she knows? She sees it everywhere. And she loves it far more than she admits aloud.

Jack notices things too. He notices her smiling more. Talking easier. How she slowly starts lingering beside him again naturally instead of hesitating first. He notices the return of little things he missed desperately. Her dry humor, her teasing, the way she hums absentmindedly while helping Eileen cook, how she starts reading beside him again instead of isolating herself. Most importantly, he notices she’s beginning to look like herself again. Not completely healed. But no longer disappearing. And honestly? Seeing her slowly come back to herself feels like one of the greatest reliefs of his life.

By the time the day finally comes to leave for Lebanon, the entire Winchester house feels strangely emotional about it. The duffel bags are packed. The Impala is loaded. Sam had apparently gone out early that morning to fully fuel the car and check it over himself before handing the keys back to Nellie with a pointed, “Drive safe.” Which mostly translates to Please don’t reenact your father’s driving habits. She, of course, treats the Impala with near religious respect anyway.

Eileen packs containers of food into a bag for them before they leave. “You two are not living on gas station food for the first week back,” she says firmly.

Jack immediately accepts this like law. Nellie laughs softly.

Dean, meanwhile, takes the departure the hardest. “You should just stay forever,” he says sadly while clinging dramatically to his cousin’s waist.

She smiles softly and crouches slightly despite the awkward angle. “We’ll visit again soon.”

“And call,” Jack promises seriously.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Every day?”

Sam snorts. “Absolutely not every day.”

He looks personally betrayed.

Eileen laughs quietly before pulling her niece into a long careful hug. “I’m proud of you,” she says softly against her shoulder.

Nellie visibly fights emotion at that.

Then Eileen hugs Jack too. “And you,” she adds, smiling warmly.

He immediately blushes slightly.

Sam, meanwhile, pulls both of them into one final serious conversation near the car. “Take it easy. No jumping into hunts right away.”

“We know,” Nellie assures.

“And when you do start again,” he says pointedly, “slow and steady.”

Jack nods immediately.

She rolls her eyes fondly. “Yes, dad.”

He points at her. “I’m serious.”

“We know,” she says softer this time.

Then he glances knowingly between the two of them. “And if either of you need relationship advice—”

Both immediately look horrified.

Eileen outright laughs.

He grins smugly. “I’m just saying.”

“We’ll survive,” she mutters.

Jack looks deeply embarrassed beside her.

Dean suddenly yells from the porch, “ARE YOU TWO BOYFIREND AND GIRLFRIEND?!”

Both immediately choke on air while Sam nearly doubles over laughing.

“DEAN,” she cries in horror.

“What?” the little boy asks innocently.

Eileen covers her face trying not to laugh too. Jack looks seconds away from combusting entirely.

Eventually — after hugs, goodbyes, and the little boy demanding approximately six more promises to visit — they finally climb into the Impala. Nellie slides into the driver’s seat with visible affection, hands settling comfortably against the wheel. Jack watches her quietly for a moment as she adjusts the mirrors. There’s something healing about seeing her here again. In the Impala. Alive. Safe. Choosing life.

She catches him staring eventually. “What?”

He smiles softly. “Nothing.” Which is obviously a lie.

She rolls her eyes lightly before starting the engine. The familiar rumble fills the air beautifully. And for the first time in a long time, the road ahead doesn’t feel terrifying. Just uncertain. But maybe hopeful too. The Impala slowly pulls out of the driveway. All three Winchesters wave from the porch while Miracle barks excitedly beside them.

The drive back to Lebanon takes about four hours. Jack offers several times to drive. Nellie refuses every single one. Not stubbornly. Almost happily. Because for the first time in weeks, sitting behind the wheel of the Impala feels right. Familiar. Safe. The steady rumble of the engine beneath her hands feels grounding in a way she desperately needed. He notices it too. The subtle confidence returning to her posture. The way she relaxes more with every passing mile. How she absently taps her fingers against the steering wheel to songs playing softly through the speakers. It feels like pieces of her are settling back into place. And honestly? He could happily sit in the passenger seat forever if it means seeing her like this.

They stop once for gas and coffee. She even teases him lightly when he comes back carrying too many snacks. “You panic-bought trail mix again.”

He looks mildly offended. “It’s practical.”

“You bought three bags.”

“What if we wanted options?”

She laughs quietly. And the sound alone makes the entire drive worth it.

By the time they finally pull into the bunker garage, both are tired but relieved. Home. The word feels strange now. Not because the bunker stopped being home. Because everything attached to it feels heavier after what happened. Nellie shuts off the Impala slowly and rests her hands against the steering wheel for a second. Last time she was here, Aberiel broke in, kidnapped her, destroyed the safety of this place. And the last time she returned here afterward, she’d been physically dead from rot, weak enough Jack had to carry her inside. The memory makes her chest tighten slightly.

Jack notices immediately. Not dramatically. Just the tiny hesitation as she steps out of the car. The way her eyes briefly scan the garage like she’s expecting something terrible to still be waiting there. He quietly comes around the car carrying a couple bags. Their eyes meet and he gives her a small encouraging smile. Not pushing. Not pitying. Just there. She exhales softly and nods once before following him inside.

The bunker greets them with familiar quiet. Their footsteps echo softly down the halls as they carry bags toward the library. When they finally step into the main room, both pause instinctively. The library still looks mostly normal. Comfortably cluttered. Warm lighting. Books everywhere. But there are remnants if you know where to look. One of the tables in the corner is still partially broken from the fight. The shattered lightbulbs from that awful night had long since been cleaned up and replaced during those desperate weeks searching for her. Still, the ghosts of it linger. She stares quietly at the damaged table for a moment too long.

He notices but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gently shifts the moment forward. “You should go unpack.”

She blinks slightly. “What?”

“I’ll handle the kitchen stuff.” He nods toward the bags from Eileen. “I wanna check the fridge and see what we need anyway.”

She immediately looks like she’s about to argue that she can help. He catches it instantly.

“You drove four hours.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know. But you should still take it easy.” The gentleness in his voice makes it impossible to really argue.

So, she compromises by grabbing his duffel bag too. “I can at least take this to your room.”

He immediately looks flustered by the simple gesture. “Okay.”

And just like that they split off naturally down familiar hallways.

She drops his duffel carefully just inside his room before continuing toward hers. When she finally opens her own bedroom door, she stops. Everything is exactly how she left it. The blankets. The books stacked near the bed. The old CD jewel cases. The familiar dim lighting. Safe. Her throat tightens unexpectedly at the realization. Because despite everything, this room still feels like hers. Not Aberiel’s. Not trauma’s. Hers. She slowly unpacks, movements growing steadier as she settles her things back into place. Clothes folded away. Books returned to shelves. CDs stacked neatly again. Finally, she places the stuffed dog back in its usual spot on the bed. And somehow that small act makes the room fully feel like home again. By the time she finishes unpacking, some of the nervous tension in her chest has eased. Not disappeared. But eased.

She gathers the dirty laundry from her bag before remembering Jack’s duffel still sitting outside his room. Without thinking much about it, she grabs his laundry too and heads toward the laundry room. The routine feels strangely comforting. Sorting clothes. Starting the washer. Hearing familiar bunker sounds around her again. It feels normal. And after the past month? Normal feels precious. Once the laundry is going, she heads toward the kitchen. Jack is standing in front of the open fridge looking deeply judgmental about whatever expired item he’s holding.

She smiles faintly. “I started the laundry.”

He immediately looks over. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

That simple answer warms him embarrassingly fast. He gives her a soft smile anyway. “Thanks.”

She grabs a notepad from the counter before hopping up onto one of the stools. “What do we need?”

He starts listing things while still cleaning out the fridge. “Milk. Eggs. Probably vegetables.”

“You bought three bags of trail mix already.”

“Once again, I argue that was strategic.”

She laughs quietly while writing. And just like that, they fall back into rhythm effortlessly. Shopping lists. Laundry. Cleaning out the fridge. Quiet teasing. Domesticity settles around them naturally. Not forced. Not awkward. Just familiar. And somewhere between the grocery list and the humming washing machine in the distance, both of them realize something important. They really are home.

• • •

Dinner that evening feels strangely peaceful. The bunker kitchen is quiet except for the soft clink of silverware and the distant hum of the laundry still running somewhere down the hall. Eileen’s packed meals had made dinner easy, which both of them appreciated after unpacking and settling back in all afternoon. Nellie sits at the small kitchen table wearing one of her oversized sweatshirts, legs curled slightly beneath her chair while she picks at the food more comfortably than she had weeks ago. Jack sits across from her. And occasionally, one of them catches the other looking. Then both immediately look back at their plates like nothing happened. It’s painfully sweet.

Eventually, though, his expression grows a little more thoughtful. “Nellie?”

She looks up from her food. “Yeah?”

He hesitates slightly. “What should I do,” he asks carefully, “when you have really bad nightmares?”

She stills slightly. Not upset. Just surprised by the question.

He immediately keeps going softly. “I mean…” He rubs nervously at the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna make things worse. I don’t wanna scare you.” He doesn’t say I don’t ever want you looking at me and seeing Aberiel again. But she hears it anyway. And honestly? The consideration alone makes warmth ache quietly in her chest. Because even now — even after confessing his feelings — his biggest concern is still her comfort and safety.

She thinks quietly for a moment. Then finally replies, “If I’m asleep, you can come wake me up. Just maybe don’t get too close.” She gives him the faintest teasing smile. “I don’t wanna accidentally punch you.”

He laughs softly in relief. “That’s fair.”

“I hit Sam once a couple years ago.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Seriously?”

“He deserved it,” she says automatically. “He snores like a freight train.”

That makes him laugh harder. The sound warms the kitchen beautifully. Then he asks more quietly, “What if you’re already awake?”

Her teasing softens immediately. She understands what he’s really asking. What if she’s panicking? Spiraling? Hurting? She lowers her fork slightly before answering honestly. “You can still check on me. But… I’ll probably just tell you what I need.”

His expression remains completely attentive. “Okay.”

The sincerity in his voice makes her chest ache a little. Because he’s treating this carefully. Not fearfully. Like helping her is simply something he wants to learn how to do correctly. She looks down at her plate for a moment before speaking again quietly. “I appreciate how you’ve been handling all of this. This… us.” She gestures vaguely between them. “You’re really patient with me.”

His expression softens so much it almost hurts to look at directly. “Nellie.” The gentleness in his voice immediately makes her blush slightly. “All I care about is you being yourself again. Because that’s who I fell for.”

Silence. Then both of them flush instantly. She looks down at her plate so fast it’s almost comical. He suddenly becomes deeply interested in his mashed potatoes. The bunker kitchen feels very warm all of a sudden. But beneath the embarrassment and awkwardness, there’s something else too. Something steady. Safe. And as they quietly continue eating dinner together, they realize this new step between them doesn’t actually feel unnatural at all. It just feels like them.

• • •

Later that evening, the bunker slowly settles into quiet. The laundry gets folded and put away. The kitchen cleaned. The grocery list stuck to the fridge with one of Nellie’s old magnets. The familiar rhythm of bunker life returns so naturally it almost hurts. It feels like coming home after surviving something catastrophic. Not untouched. But alive. Jack and Nellie eventually end up lingering awkwardly in the hallway outside their rooms after showers, both clearly not wanting to immediately separate for the night now that things between them had changed. The hallway lighting is soft and dim. She stands in oversized sleep clothes, damp hair falling around her shoulders while she hugs one arm around herself loosely. He looks nervous again. Not scared nervous. Just emotionally overwhelmed nervous. Like he still can’t fully believe she said yes to trying this with him. Neither really knows what to do with this new softness between them yet. And honestly? It’s adorable.

He finally clears his throat awkwardly. “Well…”

She immediately has to fight a smile because he already sounds nervous.

“Goodnight,” he says. Then instantly continues talking. “I mean— sleep well. But not in a pressure way where now you have to sleep well because I said it and then if you don’t—”

She bursts into tired laughter immediately.

He closes his eyes briefly in complete defeat. “I’m making it worse.”

“You really are.”

He groans softly and drags a hand down his face. “I had a normal goodnight prepared in my head.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

He points at her dramatically. “You’re making fun of me.”

“You’re making it easy.”

That earns another embarrassed laugh from him.

And honestly? Seeing him like this — flustered, warm, happy — makes something inside her ache in the gentlest way possible. Because she spent so long believing no one could ever look at her softly again. And now here he is, looking at her like she’s something precious.

Eventually the moment settles quieter and he smiles at her softly. “For real though, goodnight, Nellie.”

The sincerity behind it warms her chest instantly. “Goodnight, Jack.”

They separate after that, both still smiling slightly to themselves. He disappears into his room while she slips quietly into hers.

But the second the door closes, something changes. The warmth lingers. But uneasiness creeps in too. Because suddenly all she can think about is the last time she slept here. The last time she woke up in this room, Aberiel was standing over her bed. The memory crashes into her hard enough her stomach twists instantly.

She stands frozen in the middle of the room for a moment. Her eyes slowly scan everything. The bed. The lamp. The bookshelves. The CDs. All familiar. All hers. But now touched by memory too. A quiet anxiety curls beneath her ribs. She realizes quickly she doesn’t want darkness tonight. That alone feels strange. Before all of this, she always slept with her room completely dark. Now? The thought makes her chest tighten. So, she reopens the bedroom door, something she’s never done before. Then she turns on one of the bedside lamps, letting warm golden light spill softly across the room. Better. Not perfect. But better.

She crawls slowly into bed afterward, stuffed dog tucked tightly against her chest while she stares toward the open doorway. “You’re okay,” she whispers quietly to herself. And logically? She knows she is. The bunker is warded. Aberiel is locked deep in Heaven’s prison. Jack is only a hallway away. Still, her body hasn’t entirely learned safety again yet. Her mind drifts briefly toward grabbing one of her books and reading until exhaustion finally takes over.

“You always did hate sleeping alone after rough hunts.”

She doesn’t jump. She just looks toward the doorway. And there, leaning casually against the frame with a soft familiar smile, is Dean Winchester. Her breath catches instantly. “Dad.” The word leaves her like something fragile.

Then she’s moving before she can stop herself. Out of bed and crossing the room instinctively. Dean reacts too. His arms almost open automatically, like muscle memory, like he’s done it a thousand times before. Then both of them stop at the exact same moment. Reality crashes painfully between them. No touching. Not anymore. Her face crumples slightly. His smile falters too. God, he misses hugging his daughter. Her eyes immediately fill with tears.

He recovers first, smiling softly despite the emotion clearly hitting him too. “Hey, Nells.”

She lets out a shaky laugh through tears. “I missed you so much.”

His entire expression softens. “I know.” The gentleness in his voice nearly destroys her. Because he sounds like her dad. Exactly like her dad. Warm. Protective. Steady. She wipes quickly at her eyes while he steps further into the room. “I was there, you know,” he says quietly. “Mostly stayed hidden. Had to make sure my baby girl was okay.”

That almost breaks her all over again. She sits slowly back onto the bed, hugging the stuffed dog close while he sits in the desk chair she always kept beside her bed for him. “I wasn’t okay for a while,” she admits quietly.

He nods immediately. “I know.” No disappointment. No discomfort. Just understanding.

She lowers her eyes. “There were moments I didn’t think I was ever gonna feel normal again.”

“But you kept trying anyway.”

“It was hard.”

“I know. But look at you. You’re still here.”

The words hit deeply. Because there really were moments she almost wasn’t. Moments she wanted Heaven more than life. He knows that. They both do. And somehow that makes this moment feel even more precious.

“I’m proud of you,” he says quietly.

Nellie immediately tears up harder. Because after everything, her father is proud of her.

Dean watches her carefully for another second before his expression shifts knowingly. “Probably helped having angel-boy hanging around.”

She immediately flushes bright red. “Dad.”

He grins instantly. “Oh, there she is.”

She groans into the stuffed dog.

He laughs softly. “Kid, you should’ve seen yourself looking at him tonight.”

“I was not looking at him.”

He gives her the flattest look imaginable. “Nellie Deanne Winchester.”

She immediately loses the argument.

He smirks triumphantly. Then after a moment his expression softens again. “So.” He leans back slightly in the chair. “How’s that feel?”

Her blush deepens instantly because she knows exactly what he means. She stares down at the stuffed dog in her lap for a long moment before answering honestly. “…Good. Really good.” There’s wonder in her tone now. Like she still can’t fully believe this is real. “He makes me feel safe. And happy.”

That one gets him emotionally. Because after everything Aberiel stole from her, after all the fear and shame, his daughter still found happiness again. He exhales slowly. “Good.”

She looks at him nervously then. “What do you think about it?”

He immediately snorts. “Oh, I got opinions.”

She laughs softly. “Obviously.”

He points at her. “If he hurts you, I’m haunting him.”

“Dad.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re dead.”

“And?”

Honestly? Fair. She shakes her head laughing softly while he grins proudly.

His expression gentles again. “Jack’s a good kid.”

She smiles automatically at that.

He notices instantly. “Yeah,” he says knowingly. “That look right there? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

She hides her face immediately. “Oh my God.”

He laughs harder now. Then after a moment he quiets again. “He looks at you right.”

That sentence settles deeply inside her chest. Because he sees it too. The patience. The softness. The care. Not possession. Not obsession. Love. Real love.

He sighs dramatically afterward though. “Still weird though.”

She peeks at him. “What is?”

“My daughter dating.”

“We’re not technically dating dating.”

He points immediately. “Still weird.”

She laughs again, quieter this time. And for the first time since returning to this room, she feels completely safe inside it again.

Eventually exhaustion starts catching up with her. He notices immediately. “You’re fading.”

“Mhm.”

“C’mere. Get comfortable.”

She settles fully beneath the blankets while he settles into his chair as well as he can as a spirit. “I’ll stay till you fall asleep.”

Her throat tightens immediately. “You don’t have to.”

He smiles softly. “I know.” That answer means everything.

So, Nellie curls against her pillow while Dean stays beside the bed talking quietly with her. About random things mostly. His ridiculous hunting stories, things that Sam has done, Jack being painfully awkward. She laughs sleepily more than once. And slowly, the fear leaves her body completely. Because tonight she isn’t alone. Tonight she is someone’s daughter. Someone loved. Someone protected. And when her eyes finally drift closed, she falls asleep feeling safe enough to rest.

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