Dean and {{user}} had been going perfectly steady. Things were great, despite the fact that they hunted monsters for a living. They were really happy.

And then Dean sold his soul and went to Hell.

The next four months were absolutely brutal for {{user}}. At night, they would fall asleep and see the image of Dean lying on the ground bruised, broken, and bloody. They would hear his screams and wake up out of a sound sleep.

Needless to say, they were tired and hungry and just wanted to move on.

And they had been. Sam took Dean’s car and would drive around hunting, trying to figure out some way to bring his brother back, and {{user}} stayed at Bobby’s. They didn’t really have the energy in them to go after something supernatural at the moment.

To be honest, even after the four months, they still only wanted Dean back.

{{user}} was sitting in the study of Bobby’s house, searching up lore for another hunter because he had asked them too. He had been getting weird calls all morning and, well, wouldn’t exactly tell them what they were in so many words.

Prank call, he’d say.

Wrong number.

And {{user}} truly did believe him that it was absolutely nothing.

Until they heard Bobby yelling at someone at the front door.

Quickly, they got up from their chair in the study, running over to the front door, freezing in their spot the moment they saw who it was.

Dean, live and in the flesh.

He smiled his crooked smile at them, not even knowing that {{user}}’s heart was pounding a mile a minute.

“Hi.” He said, softly.