You’ll never forget the way it felt to have the life slip away from you. The warmth flee your veins. The sounds of Sam and Dean screaming their voices raw as they watched helplessly when you died.

But this was not your end. Someone decided so.

Because you are staggering down the highway, face covered in dirt smudges, throat dryer than the Sahara Desert, fingernails bloodied and practically scratched off from clawing your way out of your grave. A dead man walking.

In a delirious haze you walk aimlessly, and feel a chill run down your spine, as fate would have it—the beautiful sight of the Impala.

The car almost crashes into a tree and abruptly screeches to a stop on the side of the road and doors swing open.

Two wide-eyed Winchesters stumble out, “{{user}}…?” Sam manages in his awestruck state, Dean is going for the salt and iron. Run of the mill tests, except he hesitates. He can feel in his bones it’s you…but how?