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"Hey, do you have my gray shirt with the grease stain on the right sleeve?" Dean asked, his face suddenly falling when he took in sight before him. Y/n began rustling around on her bed, the sudden intrusion into her room. She jumped up from the mattress and knocked over a few things in the process, Dean watched in visible confusion and concern as she jolted up from the bed, her face stained with tears. She scuffled to her closet, clearing her throat and sniffing loudly, he stood in the doorway, his deep green eyes following her frame across the room.
"Yeah-" She croaked, her voice horse from what could only be crying. "I think it's in here, hold on." He watched with a furrowed brow as she exited the closet with a forced smile on her face, and his missing shirt in her hands. "You caught me..." She laughed briefly, a short sniff following the joke. "I stole it the other night to sleep in." Dean hesitantly took the shirt from her, his eyes on the fabric, then to her tear stained face.
"You-" He began taking in the fidgety nature of her movements.She looked at him with pleading eyes to just leave the room with the shirt and close the door.
"Yeah." She sighed, "All good." She continued nodding as she looked around the space, her eyes roaming everywhere but Dean's gaze. He pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side in a last attempt to meet her eyes, but stiffened up when she let a short stifled sob-like sound leave her nose.
"Thanks, n/n." He spoke, turning on his heel and walking out the door. His hand slowly closed the large wooden door without a sound. His eyes rested on the Man Of Letters emblem on the wood and he sighed as he looked down the hall, his brother standing there with a quirked brow. Dean widened his eyes and shrugged his shoulders at Sam who sighed in annoyance with the crappy response. Dean walked down the hall with his arms out, his shirt balling in his left hand,
"I think she was crying, but that's all I got." He spoke, Sam straightened up upon hearing what Dean said and dramatically gestured to her door at the end of the hall.
"And why are you out here?" Sam asked, cocking his head to the side and pressing his lips into a judgmental pursed line. Dean threw his shoulders up and back down quickly,
"What the hell was I supposed to do?" He asked, "Ask her straight up what was wrong?!" Sam threw his hand down in annoyed defeat at his side,
"Yeah, Dean. That's a start." He pressed, his voice raising an octave, a known sign of his frustration. Dean scoffed at Sam's response, his face riddled with guilt and almost comic confusion.
"Well thanks for the pep talk coach, but I've got no idea how to handle this kind of thing. I don't even know how to handle my own freaking emotions!" His tone showed his annoyance, and Sam groaned as he rested his back against the bunker wall. Dean gave his brother a look that begged for some form of an answer to a question he wasn't sure how to ask. Sam looked at him with his signature 'bitch face', and sighed.
"Dean. She's been in there way too long. And now you say she looks like she was crying? Why wouldn't you ask if she was alright?" The older Winchester sighed in defeat as he slid down the cream-colored wall. He looked at the shirt in his hands and angrily tossed it down the hall, watching the gray blob slide to a halt at the foot of the steps to the library.
"I tried to ask her but she cut me off, and just blurted out that she was fine. I didn't want the stupid shirt back..." He spoke the last bit with a dull shake of his head, his eyes traveling down the hall and resting on her door. Sam sighed and chewed at the inside of his mouth as he tried to plan the best way to confront her without making it seem like an attack or a blame game.
He didn't have time to formulate anything more than a few questions when the sound of her door opening flooded the hall. Dean jumped to his feet and Sam stood up tall as Y/n looked down the opposite side of the hall and then to where the two large men were standing. Her eyes widened for a moment when she took in the sight of them, acting much like she had a few moments ago; caught in the act of gods knows what.
She took in a visible deep breath and made her way down the hall. Dean looked to Sam for a game plan but looked back to Y/n as she approached the two of them. Sam looked at her, really looked at her, and noticed the blotchy red spots on her face that he knew all too well. Dean had grown used to seeing his puffy eyes in the morning, thinking that's just how Sam looked after hours of sleep; but Sam kept his late-night sobbing sessions private. He knew that Y/n would often do the same, but now she had been caught. Dean looked at her as she sucked in her cheeks and sniffed loudly. He furrowed his brow at her, silently asking her again what was wrong. Her answer was clear as she allowed a grimace of sadness to envelop her features and reached her arms up and around Dean's neck. The elder brother froze as the girl in front of him pulled him into a hug and began sobbing into the crook of his neck, her hot and salty breath fanning over his exposed skin. Sam watched with wide eyes as Y/n squeezed Dean tight in a hug, tears falling from her eyes; the dam finally broke. Dean felt his own eyes begin to water and closed his eyes, his strong arms crushing Y/n flush against his chest, one hand holding the back of her head in a tight embrace.
Sam sighed and scrunched his face up in sad understanding, he took a few steps away from the wall and brought his arms around both his brother and Y/n. He rested his chin on Dean's shoulder as Y/n moved a hand behind her head from around Dean's shoulder and cradled Sam's head. Sam closed his eyes into the embrace, his own tears threatening to fall.
Y/n stood there in between the most important people in her life, just drinking in the feeling of having them hold her up.
And for a brief moment.
She felt whole.