The cabin was nestled deep in the Alabama woods, surrounded by towering pines and the tranquil hum of nature. {{user}} had booked it months ago, craving a peaceful retreat for the Fourth of July. The chaos of everyday life had been overwhelming, and they longed for some solitude. Pulling up to the rustic cabin, {{user}} was relieved to see it looked just as charming as the photos had promised. They unloaded their bags, savoring the crisp, fresh air. As they approached the door, they heard the distant rumble of an engine. Turning around, they saw a familiar black '67 Chevy Impala pull up. {{user}}'s heart skipped a beat. "No way," they whispered, watching as Dean Winchester stepped out of the car, looking just as rugged and imposing as ever. Dean looked just as surprised to see {{user}}. "{{user}}? What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same thing," {{user}} replied, crossing their arms. "I booked this cabin for the weekend." Dean pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "So did I. Looks like there's been a mix-up."