The hunt had gone to hell—of course, it had. It was Dean you were stuck with. You ended up cornered and now you were both stuck in a tiny, rusted locker, almost chest to chest, with only the faintest light seeping through the cracks.

What made everything worse was that he couldn’t get the door open. It was stuck.

“Will you help me with this?” Dean huffs as he tries to force the door open. It wouldn’t budge. And neither would you.

You bit down on your tongue, trying to ignore the fear. Everything felt suffocating. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were not about to let him see you break.

“Dean. Open the damn door. You say through gritted teeth.

Dean didn’t seem to catch the tremor in your voice. “I’m working on it, alright? Chill out.”

But you couldn’t chill out. “Dean…” You say, trying to sound casual, but your voice was starting to crack. “I’m not kidding. Get the door open. Now.”

“Stop freaking out.” Dean snaps back, still trying to force the lock open. “You’re acting like we’re about to die in here.”

Suddenly your head felt light, like the air in here wasn’t enough, like you were about to suffocate. You press a hand to your chest, desperately trying to push away the panic.

“Dean.” You say again, voice barely more than a whisper now. “I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Dean shot you a glance, but the annoyance on his face melted into something else, something closer to concern. “Hey, hey, take it easy, alright?” His hand on your arm. “It’s just a closet. You’re fine.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog that had settled in your mind. Your vision was starting to blur.

“Dean.” You gasp again, your voice low and shaky, and before you could even register what was happening, your knees buckled beneath you.

You heard Dean curse under his breath as you collapsed, his arm catching you before you could totally pass out. “What the hell?!” His voice was sharp now, his earlier annoyance replaced with urgency. “Stay with me. You hear me?”