When they arrived at her apartment building, she took her guitar from the back just as carefully as she'd put it there. Dean had his baby, she had hers.

It didn't take them long to reach the door of her room on the first floor, and as soon as she opened it she wished she'd tried to keep the place a little straighter. Not that it was dirty, just—a little cluttered.

"Well, here it is. Home sweet dump."