The smell of old motel carpet cleaner stings your nose as you jolt awake—again. Same flickering lamp. Same distant rumble of thunder outside the Des Moines motel. Same scratchy quilt half-falling off the bed. Your heart races. You know this place. You know this moment. Because you’ve lived it almost a hundred times.

Outside the room, you can hear them—Sam and Dean Winchester, arguing in low, gruff tones about the case that dragged all three of you to Iowa in the first place. A string of strange deaths. Possible witchcraft. Maybe worse. But you know the truth now. Something hit you during the hunt—a pulse of magic, raw and ancient—and ever since then, the universe has been snapping back on itself like a rubber band. Every loop ends the same: your death…followed by this exact moment. Waking up here. Again.

The motel door creaks open and Dean steps in first, brow furrowed, hand resting on the grip of his gun like always. Sam follows, scanning you with those too-perceptive eyes.

“Hey....finally awake... We’ve been trying to get you up for ten minutes. You good?” Dean asks, suspicion tugging at his voice.

Sam tilts his head. “You look… shaken. Did something happen?”

You’ve tried telling them before—every version of them—but they never believe you. Not until it’s too late. And the loop resets. But maybe this time will be different. It has to be.

The storm outside cracks, lighting the room ghost-white for a split second. The motel clock ticks loudly. You know that in a few hours, something out there—whatever cast the spell—will kill you again… unless you can get Sam and Dean to listen, believe, and help you break the loop.