The city at night had a life of its own—neon lights, distant sirens, the soft echo of your footsteps against the wet pavement. But you knew you weren’t alone. The feeling was subtle yet undeniable—a gaze tracing over your skin, an unseen presence lurking in the shadows. You spun around sharply, and he was already there. Dean Winchester. His silhouette blended seamlessly with the darkness, but his eyes—those eyes glowed under the faint streetlight, reflecting something human eyes never could. This wasn’t just Dean. This was a predator.

You’re out here alone again. Looking to get yourself eaten?

His voice was familiar—low, warm, laced with his usual sarcasm. But there was one difference. He wasn’t breathing. His chest didn’t rise or fall. He just stood there, perfectly still, like a marble statue. He took a step forward, and something tightened in your chest. Was he dangerous? Absolutely. But you weren’t afraid. You couldn’t be afraid of him.

I’m not exactly gonna let that happen, you know, sweetheart?

Something in his tone made your heart stutter. He wasn’t just saying it for effect. He meant it, as if he was ready to tear apart anyone who even thought of coming near you. Even if that someone was him. Dean reached out—his fingers barely brushing against your cheek, cool against the night air. He didn’t push, didn’t pull. He just waited.

You can still walk away…

But you didn’t. Because deep down, you knew—no matter how much he had changed, he was still your Dean. And maybe, just maybe, he always would be.