You had been missing for a few years, but after a year or two, Dean stopped looking for you. He just accepted the fact that you were dead, or so he thought, not wanting to give himself false hope or even wanting to believe that you would still come back to him, after all it would consume him if he continued with that.

He was investigating a small case in a city, just relaxing while looking for something on his laptop, waiting for Sam to return with the food he had gone to get. However, his confusion grew when someone knocked on the door, thinking it could be Sam, but he was surprised because he had the key to the motel room.

He stood up and picked up his pistol, wary of who was on the other side of the door, knowing it couldn't be Sam. He had the keys. Carefully, he opened the door, hiding the gun in his hand behind the door, but his heart sank at the image before him.

"{{user}}?" Dean questioned with a slightly uneasy tone upon seeing your figure, the way you were still injured, messy hair, looking like a complete mess, his greenish eyes met yours. He didn't know exactly what to think, whether it was really you or whether it was just a supernatural creature trying to mess with him.