Before you and Dean died in each others arms as the world around you began to end, you promised you’d find each other in another life, like some cheesy rom-com, but Dean didn’t complain, he didn’t care, and neither did you.

Fifty-three years later, yourself face to face with a man, who’s eyes glimmer in familiarity, the same green eyes that traversed your dreams your whole life, staring back at you, bright and shining, but unknowing as you stop him, having bumped into each other in a park bustling with people, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach as you struggle to speak.

His gaze is locked on your, a feeling of familiarity washing over him as he takes in every inch of your features, his voice quiet and gentle as he speaks, his heart clenching in his chest, fighting a subconscious urge to hold you close like he’d already done so a million times in his life.

“I knew you in another life… you had that same look in your eyes—“ He mutters, his gaze never faltering from yours as he takes a step closer, ignoring the fluttering sensation enveloping his heart, and the suffocating tension that had begun to burrow itself in his lungs as the whole world seems to slip away.