At precisely 2:43 a.m., I wake up to knocking on my door. I stare at the ceiling for a minute, wondering if I should really answer it. But I figure that it has to be either Sam or Dean, so it must be important.

I grab my gun just in case - something that Dean taught me - and walk to the door. As I look through the peep hole, I sigh, and open up reluctantly.

"Can we talk?" Dean asks, his voice clouded with sleep.

"Can we?" I ask. I don't feel like arguing with him.

He rolls his eyes and steps into my room. I shut the door and lock it again, then place my pistol back on my nightstand and turn on the lamp.

"Really?" He scoffs.

"What? Like I'm supposed to know that it's you, not some monster that wants to kill me?" I retort.

Dean purses his lips and nods.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Really?"

"Stop saying that!" I snap. "'Really?' As if I'm supposed to read your mind. Tell me what you want to talk about or go."

"What's your problem?" Dean asks.

"My problem is that I saved you and Sam today but you didn't express a single ounce of gratitude. And after everything, I would think you would approach me a little differently."

"I said thank you," Dean argues.

"Yeah, and then you left me and Sam to go mope."

"Hey, listen, you left me. You didn't say a single word. You never said you were upset with me or gave me a reason. And you made Sam take the heat for it!"

"You're repeating yourself. I know I shouldn't have gotten Sam involved and I know that I should've spoken to you. Anything else?"

"Why?"

"Why what?" I ask.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

"Because you swore up and down that you wouldn't cheat on me, and you told me I could trust you. But you never followed up on your word. You let Ellen treat me like shit and you kissed Jo. I couldn't handle it anymore Dean. I was at a real low point and that pushed me over the edge."

Dean sighs and stares at me for a few seconds.

"I shouldn't have done that. I know," he nods. "I should've been there for you."

I hear his remorse and I can see it on his face, but I can only think of one thing. "You said you didn't love me."

"Mal..." Dean sighs.

"Look, I get it if you don't feel that way, but... I don't know, Dean, it just felt like maybe you did. It's fine though, I shouldn't have expected that from you."

"I do."

I frown. "You what?"

"I love you. And you should know that when you left, I tore through every town I could think that you would've gone trying to find you. It ruined me, trying to figure out where you were, if you were safe and if I would ever see you again." Dean walks closer to where I'm standing with my arms folded and my head down. "I know I made mistakes. But I'm trying to make up for it, Mallory. I need you to just let me in."

I take a moment to process what he's saying to me. While I look around the room, avoiding his eyes, I see a bandage on his arm that looks like it's seeping with blood.

"What's wrong with your arm, Dean?" I ask, immediately grabbing it and holding it gently.

"Seriously? Right now? Come on," he whines.

"What did you do?" I pry.

"I just got a little scratched up while I was fighting earlier, it's not a big deal."

"You're bleeding through your bandage," I point out. "Let me fix it."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Fine."

I peel off the gauze and medical tape to reveal a deep gash that looks like it needs stitches. I look Dean in the eye while I place my hand over it and focus on healing him. As much as Cas made me practice, I get flashbacks of the old days at the bunker, and I smile.

"Thanks," Dean says softly.

I keep ahold of his arm. Just the feeling of touching him makes me miss him a thousand times more.

"Listen, I didn't come here to cross any boundaries, but I want you to know that I've never stopped caring for you. You could come back to the bunker, you know."

I don't know what to say. I just keep watching the floor next to Dean's feet. He moves his arm, puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head to look at him.

"I can't do all the talking," he coaxes me.

"I don't know, Dean," I shrug. "It's just hard to feel comfortable with that."

"I get it," Dean nods. "But I hate the idea of you being alone up here."

"I can take care of myself."

Dean laughs. "I know you can."

I stand, deep in thought. Thinking of the three words that left Dean's mouth a few moments ago. I think about the last time I heard them, and how badly it hurt to wake up from a hallucination and realize that I could've lost Dean.

"What?" Dean asks. He grabs my forearms and gently pulls me toward him. He sits down in the armchair in the corner of the room and pulls me into his lap. It happens easily, like we're supposed to fit together.

"Do you remember the last time I went back to the veil? When the djinn got a hold of me?" I remind him. He hums. "When I was under, part of my hallucination was you telling me that you loved me. And then I woke up, and you weren't there, and I was sent to the worst few months of my life."

Dean strokes my hair as I curl into his chest. The warmth of his skin and the soft material of his sweats and T-shirt make me feel tired.

"I'm here this time though," Dean tells me. "This time it's real. And you don't have to leave here without me."

Dean and I are both silent for a while. We're only accompanied by the ticking of a clock and the sound of traffic.

After a while, Dean's breathing gets deep and he starts to snore quietly. I smile to myself, remembering the nights we spent together. Gently, I raise my head and look at him. I don't think there's any way he could be comfortable falling asleep sitting up, but I don't want to wake him, so I just take in his features.

He does look older than he did a year ago. The circles around his eyes are darker. The frown lines on his forehead are deeper. His cheeks look more hollow. A guilt strikes me; this is, to some degree, my fault after causing him so much grief.

Slowly, he opens his eyes again. "You're staring."

"Sorry," I laugh. "You should really go to bed."

Dean nods. I climb off his lap and give him a hand to help him up. He makes his way to my bed and lies down. I let out a sigh of defeat and lie down next to him. He's quick to grab ahold of me and pull me to him.

Dean's deep breaths in my ear would normally put me to sleep. His arms around my waist, securing me to him, would normally make me feel safe. Normally, Dean warms me up and takes me worries from me, but not tonight.

I feel scared; nervous. His words keep playing in my head. Better off dead. They remind me of when Dean truly wanted me dead, and I wonder if I'm really safe with him.