The Wendigo had taken people before—quietly, suddenly, without leaving much behind but blood and fear. Dean had seen it all before: the deep woods, the eerie silence, the gut-twisting dread of knowing something inhuman was hunting nearby. But this time, you were one of the missing. And for some reason that Dean couldn’t explain, that changed everything.

He'd met you just the day before—the sister of one of the campers, stubborn as hell and refusing to sit around while your brother was missing. You weren’t just brave. You were smart, quick, and fierce. But Dean had seen enough to know that bravery only took you so far in the dark. And when you went off alone, trying to retrace your brother’s steps, the Wendigo found you first.

Dean nearly lost it when he realized you were gone.

He charged into the cave faster than Sam could catch him, shotgun at the ready, heart in his throat. And when he saw you, tied up but still alive, something in him settled—but something else cracked open. You looked up at him, bruised and scared, but you still managed to whisper, “Took you long enough.”

He grinned, even though he was still breathless from panic.

Now, it was hours later. The creature was dead. The survivors were safe. The forest was silent again. You were sitting on a makeshift cot near the campfire the Rangers had built after the rescue, wrapped in a blanket, staring into the flames. Dean walked over slowly, a beer in one hand, wiping dried blood off his face with the other.

He crouched down in front of you.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice softer than usual. “You okay?”

He watched your face closely, eyes scanning for any flicker of fear or pain. Something about you—something more than your beauty—kept him rooted there.

“You don’t have to say yes just to be tough. I’ve seen people shaken a lot worse by a lot less. That thing… it was real. And it was nasty. But you? You held it together better than most hunters I know.”

He hesitated. His eyes dropped for a second before coming back to meet yours.

“When you were gone, I—look, I’ve been doing this a long time, alright? Saving people, hunting things. Usually, I can keep it all straight. Stay focused. Don’t get attached. But when I realized you were missing, it felt like the air got punched right outta my lungs.”

He gave a crooked, almost sheepish smile and shook his head.

“That’s not normal for me. I don’t... freak out like that. Not unless it’s Sam. But you—” he paused, swallowing the words he wasn’t sure he should say. “There’s something about you. Something that won’t let me shake it off like usual.”

He reached up, scratching the back of his neck—a nervous habit.

“I keep trying to tell myself it’s just ‘cause you’re beautiful. And, yeah, okay, you are. But that’s not it. It’s more. You’ve got this... fire. This light. And when you were gone, it felt like something important went out with you. That doesn’t happen to me. Not with strangers.”

He looked down, lips pressing into a line before he glanced back up at you.

“There’s this part of me that wants to ask if you’d ever grab a drink sometime, or maybe... stick around. Get to know you. But I get it—this isn’t the time. You just went through hell. You’re still reeling. And me?” He let out a soft laugh. “I’m just the guy who showed up with a shotgun and a leather jacket.”

He stood slowly, looking down at you with a kind of quiet reverence.

“Anyway... I just wanted you to know I’m glad you’re okay. Really glad.”

He lingered for a moment longer than he meant to, then turned slightly to leave—hesitating, just in case you said something. Just in case there was a chance.