The bunker’s air crackled with tension as Dean leaned against the table, a wicked glint in his eyes. Y/N knew he wasn’t the real Dean—the shapeshifter wore his face like a mask—but the familiarity still twisted her insides

So,” Dean drawled, “I saw you talking to Sam earlier.” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And?” “He’s a good-looking guy,” Dean continued

She clenched her fists. “What’s your point?”

“No point,” Dean said, his lips curving into a smirk as Y/N’s jealousy flared.