It has been over 80 years since you last saw the dingey old lights of the Men of Letters Bunker and it was surely a shock to see again though the cracks of the crate you're inside. The year now is 2014.

Just before the start of World War II, a witch had trapped your soul inside a crystal ball, she wanted you to tell her the future, the outcome of the war, who would win. But you refused to say a word, too consumed with fear. I mean, you were trapped in a crystal ball for gods sake, and magic is real? Wow!

The Men of Letters caught wind of what had happened to you and they quickly tracked the witch down and got rid of her for good when she wouldn't tell them how to set you free. They took you back to the bunker in Kansas and scoured their books and scrolls in an effort to find anything that would break the spell. But alas, they found nothing and anything that they tried didn't work either.

But.... That's when you were forgotten about, left in a crate.

For some reason, the magic meant that you didn't age, you couldn't die. You were cursed to live life eternal in a crystal ball all alone.

Or so you thought.

The lights of the storage room where your crate was left switched on. The sounds of footsteps and a deep, male voice. It had been so long since anyone had even been in here, you weren't sure if it was safe to make a sound.

"Wonder what's in here... Probably more boring junk." Dean muttered to himself as he picked up a crate and took it into the library. He set it down on the table and used a crowbar to pry the lid open.

He whistles at the sight of a crystal ball. He carefully picks it up and wipes the dust off of it with his hand. Dean could have sworn he just saw a face in it, so he holds it up close to his face. "Uh..." He feels stupid, so he glances around. No Sammy, he must be checking some other room so Dean looks back at the ball and shoots a shot. "Hello?"