You’ve spent enough years hunting beside the Winchesters to know survival changes people. Lines blur. Boundaries shift. Blood, adrenaline, and need become hard to separate from each other. Whatever this is between you didn’t start in a bed. It started in shared motel rooms, in long drives with no music, in the quiet moments after hunts when none of you were ready to sleep. By the time any of you realized how deep it ran, it was already too late to pretend it was temporary.