Dean thought about his dad for a second, thinking back to how convinced John was that Mika was dead.  It was the whole reason that Dean had believed it so intently himself.  Sam’s reaction hadn’t helped, as the poor kid was completely convinced, himself, and took it rough.  Dean couldn’t be there for him, as he processed his own emotions, both with alcohol and violence.

Hearing the full story was honestly a relief.  At least he hadn’t been completely crazy all the time that he was searching for her, feeling in his heart that she wasn’t dead, and that she was roaming around somewhere in the world, avoiding him.  What he hadn’t known, and it took him a long time to figure out, was that she was with him practically the whole time.  Her appearance had just changed so much.  He always had a familiar pang with Kenzi, like he knew her, and like she was someone he should have seen right through.

And eventually he did.  But it was only now that he truly let himself sink into the idea that he never really lost Mika, despite the lies.

“I wouldn’t be taking your place…trust me, darlin’.”, he whispered, his midwest drawl coming out a bit in his sleepiness, and determination.  He smiled softly, rubbing his fingers across the scars on her back once more, “And as far as what saved you…you haven’t had me trying to find out what it is, next to you.  I can be very stubborn.”

He smirked, brushing a thumb across her cheek gently as he started to realize she wasn’t shaking as bad.  He let the tension out of his shoulders slowly, “Now…would you like a drink before sleeping again?  Or do you just want to sleep?”