Directions. Crowley started giving them like punches. One after another, with that smug voice of his, he laid out names, coordinates, stories of people they’d once saved — from wendigos, vampires, demons, witches.

People who were alive because of Sam. Because of Dean. Because of those stained hands that chose hunting over everything else. And now, one by one, they were gone. Just like that.

Dean clenched his jaw. If none of them made it, if all those people ended up dead anyway… then what was the point? What the hell did they even accomplish?

And then came now. The house. The wreckage. Cracked walls, shattered furniture, the smell of blood and burnt fabric.

And you — you on the floor, barely breathing, while Sam tore through the mess trying to find that damned, crusty old pouch witches used for their hexes.

“Sam!” The shout scraped out of his throat, raw and sharp. For a second, everything blurred.bAnother house. Another body. Another person he loved slipping through his fingers.

No. Not this time. Dean dropped to his knees beside you, ignoring the shake in his hands, ignoring the sting behind his eyes.

“Hey. Hey—look at me. Look at me,” he said, cupping your face in both hands, steady and urgent. Your skin was cold. Your lips pale. But your eyes were still there. Still finding his. Still not gone. “You’re not dying. Not on my watch.”

Sam flipped a table, tossing debris aside, and Cas appeared then, wounded but upright. Time felt brittle, filthy, like the old spell bag Sam finally pulled from under the wreckage. But Dean didn’t look away.

Not this time.

He could forgive himself for past failures. His dad. His mom. Jo. Ellen. Charlie. Benny. Kevin. Sam — more than once. But not you. Not you.

Because you’d walked into their lives like an accident, and stayed like you’d always belonged. Because you were the one who reminded him there was still more than revenge, more than fate, more than pain. And if life was cruel enough to take you away now… Dean wouldn’t know how to keep going.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, lowering his forehead to yours. “Stay with me, {{user}}.”

And this time —for everything he’d lost, for everything he couldn’t save— he prayed.