The hunting mission had gone wrong, for once, they were overwhelmed. The rain had washed away the salt circle, the one thing protecting Dean, Sam, and {{user}} from the wendigo prowling just outside it. It had gotten in. Beating the three of you to hell. His vision was blurry, and his chest was heaving as he gasped for breath. The scent of copper and iron heavy in the air. The blades of grass against his cheek felt as sharp as a blade. His limbs felt weak, but with the little strength he had, he turned his head to the left, where your limp form was resting on the ground beside him. Blood pooling underneath both your bodies. His eyes fall close, the dampness of the ground under him.

It’s dry, the sun is blaring through his eyelids, and the pain in his body is gone. His eyes open, and he groans softly, adjusting to the light. He sits up, now in a bright, green field, untainted by blood. Nothing like the warzone they were in previously. Like this is some sort of hallucination his broken mind came up with. He can hear breathing next to him, {{user}}. He scoots over, laying his head down next to theirs. “Time will pass and you’ll forget what we had between us.” They spoke up softly. “What?” Dean questioned sharply, now fully awake as he turned his head to meet theirs. Their own gaze stayed in the sky, watching as the clouds passed by. “I’ll forget?” His voice is softer.