The morning sun spilled through the kitchen windows, catching in the golden curls of the little girl perched on Dean’s shoulders. You laughed as she tried to steal pieces of pancake off his plate, her giggles filling the air. Dean looked over at you, his green eyes soft, his smile that rare, private one he saved only for you. His hand found yours across the table, rough thumb tracing circles over your wedding ring: simple, worn, perfect.

Your heart was full. So full it almost hurt. This was your life: a cozy house, a backyard full of toys, Sunday mornings in pajamas, the people you loved most safe and happy. No more hunts. No more sadness. “You’re stuck with me, sweetheart,” Dean teased, pressing a kiss to your temple as the kids laughed and argued over syrup.

And you believed it, in this world, you truly believed it.

But then you blinked and the world blurred and shifted. Suddenly you weren’t standing in the sunlight anymore. Cold bit into your skin. The smell of rust and blood filled your nose. “Hey!” a voice shouted sharply, dragging you further from the dream.

Dean. Your body was limp, tied to a steel beam, blood slowly draining from your veins where the djinn had latched on. Dean’s hands were on your face, tapping your cheeks, desperate to pull you back. “Come on, come on, open your eyes,” he urged, his voice rough, breaking.

You tried to lift your head, but everything was heavy, so heavy. Part of you still wanted to sink back into the dream, to stay where it was safe and warm. “No. No, you fight it, you hear me?” Dean’s voice cut through the fog, a tether anchoring you to the real world. “This isn’t real. None of that was real. This is real.” He slashed the bindings with a silver knife, catching you as you slumped forward. His hand pressed against the wound at your neck, trying to slow the bleeding. “I got you,” he whispered fiercely. “I’m not letting you go.”