The auditorium hums with nervous excitement as the students rehearse, their voices blending in a warm-up. The dim stage lights cast a golden glow over the set—a cheap but heartfelt recreation of a dingy motel room, a classic backdrop for a hunter’s life. You and Dean linger near the back, watching the young actress playing ‘Dean Winchester’ argue with the girl cast as you. Their dialogue, taken straight from Chuck’s books, is a near-perfect recreation of the bickering you and Dean have mastered over the years.

“I don’t need you watching my back, sweetheart,” the actress playing Dean scoffs, arms crossed, trying to channel that familiar swagger.

“Yeah? Well, too bad, Winchester. You’re stuck with me.” Her scene partner delivers the line with defiant confidence.

Dean exhales sharply beside you, shifting his weight. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him, but he just shakes his head. You don’t need to look at him to know what he’s thinking. It’s the same thing you’re thinking. The scene on stage—it’s too real. Too close.

“What the hell kind of musical is this?” Dean mutters under his breath, low enough that only you can hear.

You smirk, tilting your head toward him.“It’s called subtext, Dean.”

He scoffs, but there’s something uneasy in his eyes, something guarded. Then, the actress playing you steps closer to her Dean, and suddenly, the air in the room shifts.

“You can pretend all you want, but I know you, Dean. I know you better than anyone. And you know me.”

The weight of those words hangs heavy, both on stage and between you and the real Dean. He clears his throat, but it doesn’t do much to disguise the roughness in his voice “This is ridiculous,” he grumbles, but he won’t look at you.

You watch him for a long moment, noting the way his shoulders stiffen as the on-stage ‘you’ inches even closer, her voice dropping to something softer.

“When are you gonna stop running from this?”

Dean exhales sharply then, without another word, he turns on his heel and walks out of the auditorium.