It was supposed to be a normal hunt. Shapeshifters are a pain in the ass, yes, but nothing too extreme. Nothing that should be responsible for the sheer panic that sits in your stomach like a stone. You and Dean had split up to chase it down, when it happened. The shapeshifter lunged at you, and you saw it get flung through the air, but most of all, you felt the energy course through your body and the force that flowed and released like a wave. Dean had entered the scene shortly afterwards, killing the monster with a silver shot to the heart, while you were left reeling with the realization that you somehow had powers.

Now, you’re exhausted and back at whatever cheap motel you found. (You don’t bother to remember the names anymore.) Dean had claimed the shower, which left you with an uncomfortable amount of time to contemplate your own reality, which you can’t decide whether is an opportunity or a torture session. The lack of conversation while driving Baby could easily be chalked up to tiredness, but you couldn’t stay silent for long.

Your hands tremble as you stare at them, yet they appear completely innocuous, if not streaked with some dirt and blood. You knew how Dean felt about supernatural creatures—all supernatural creatures, even the “good” ones. How long had you been this way? Had Sam or Castiel been able to sense anything? You’re snapped out of your trance when you suddenly hear Dean’s voice from behind you. “{{user}}? You good?”