The space inside the walls was cramped, dark, and full of cobwebs - a place you did not want to be spending your afternoon. But you didn’t have a choice; this was where the trail to the monster had led. Something had been dragging its victims through here, and if you wanted to stop it, this was the only way.

Dean was ahead of you, grumbling as he shuffled through the narrow passage, his flashlight beam bouncing against the dusty walls.

“You holding up back there, sweetheart?” he called to you.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you replied with a grunt. “Just ready to be done with this.”

He squeezed around a corner and suddenly stopped.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s too narrow,” Dean said, shining the flashlight ahead. “Can’t get any further.”

“Let me see,” you said, not waiting for permission as you started to squeeze past him.

“Wait, what are you—” Dean’s protest cut off as you pushed closer. He had no choice but to press his back against the wall to make room for you. The space was so tight your back was flush against his chest, the heat radiating off him palpable in the confined space.

He let out a soft, almost inaudible grunt as you finally stopped in front of him. “Should’ve cleaned the pipes,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Dean’s eyes darted away from yours, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, I said, I wish they’d cleaned the pipes in here,” he stammered, a little too quickly.