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[ She doesn't know what she expected him to say, really. Even with how she's managed to straddle the line drawn between their two lives, even with how she's dabbled in their research and hunting and even a little magic courtesy of Sam and Rowena, what Beverly Marsh knows about their world is a drop in the ocean of their vast experience. That she can do nothing on that front isn't a surprise, so it doesn't sting when his reply lands; but maybe she wasn't asking about helping in that way at all.

What can she do as the woman on the outside looking in, as the woman who loves Dean with all that she is — that's the real question. She can't be there physically for him, as much as it pains them both, but if he needs her to be his anchor (just as she always has been, just as he has for her), then that's what she'll be.

What was it they'd said years ago, in a dingy motel room? All in. They haven't wavered from that since. ]

Sweetheart, you'll hear it every day until this is over, [ she tells him softly, her voice shot with emotion but steady in its assertion. ] And every day after. [ I just wanted you to know. In case. No. Nope, not having that. This isn't how the story ends. She hasn't dreamt it. (She's dreamt of the ocean, but she doesn't know why.) ] I'm not going anywhere and neither are you, okay? You beat the son of a bitch before, you'll do it again.

[ She wills her voice not to break, he doesn't need that from her, but her eyes burn with tears all the same. She presses a smile into her next words: ]

Here's to two more, and more after that, right?

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