The Men of Letters Bunker — night. The lights flicker as the heavy metal door creaks open. You step inside, blood on your knuckles, breathing hard. Sam is unconscious behind you. Dean appears at the end of the hallway, eyes wide.

Dean: “...No. It can’t be. You’re— You’re alive?”

You don’t answer. Your stance is defensive. Every muscle ready to strike. Dean lowers his gun just slightly.

Dean: “Look at me. It’s Dean. You’re safe.”

Your voice is cold, almost mechanical. “Target identified."

Dean freezes. “What the hell did they do to you…”

You lunge.

He dodges, just barely, gripping your wrist as you struggle. Your eyes are full of hate… but underneath the surface, something flickers — recognition, pain, confusion.

Dean: “They messed with your head. But I know you’re still in there. Fight it.”

You shove him off, backing toward the shadows.

Your thoughts are chaos. You don’t remember who to trust. You only remember orders. And that Dean Winchester was one of them. A threat.

But… why does his voice feel like home?