He was there, and even though she only awake completely a few times, Claire felt him there in all the times. In that place between sleep and wake, closer to sleep than wake, dreams that should have been nightmares and the harsh reality of what was going on were both dulled and sleep-fuzzy, allowing her to cry with tears and cling to Dean in want of comfort, revealing that the numbness she was so consumed by consciously wasn't one hundred percent pervasive.
When she woke, there was the few seconds of untainted morning comfort, such as the bed warm and formed to her body, but other comforts, such as Dean's skin sleep-hot and familiar against hers, weren't there. It was why she woke, searching him out, but as she scrubbed sleep from her eyes, it all came back. Sylar. The planning. The waking vivid dreams. The bite. The gutting. Dean finding her. The numbness.
Morning hadn't made it better.
She got out of bed wordlessly and flipped the comforter back, pulling the sheets free of other corners while she waited for Dean to sit up. They would need washed, since she hadn't showered before bed, only had Dean clean her up.
She'd toss these in the hamper for later, shower, dress, and then go looking for Sylar.