Dean stepped forward as she spoke, one tiny step toward her against his mourning brain’s will.  He closed his eyes as she began to speak, letting the tears that had built up fall down to his chin.  He wanted to tell her to hush.  He wanted to hug her.  But he was angry, and sad.  These were emotions that typically led him to violence with anyone else.

“Um…Bobby didn’t tell me much.  He just told me about what happened that n-night. This is insane…”, he whispered, clearing his throat after.  He stepped forward another bit.  Opening his eyes, he gritted his teeth and closed the gap between them, his hands coming up to hold her face in his hands.

It was a familiar stance, back to one of the worst nights for his anger.  He trailed a hand down to her throat, running his thumb over the front of her throat as he pressed his forehead roughly against hers, “Mika…”

He whispered her name, almost as a control lever for his anger and grief.  It was his brain talking him out of hurting her.  Instead, another set of tears fell from his eyes, falling from his chin, and he simply placed a quiet kiss on her nose, his shaky hand leaving her throat.