Back when Dean was just a teenager, before he was hardened by years of hunting, loss, and survival, there was you.

You were his first taste of something soft in a world made of sharp edges. The first person who looked past the cocky grin and the smartass one-liners and actually saw him. You didn’t know the full truth about his life—only what he told you in bits and pieces. That he moved around a lot. That his dad had a job that kept them on the road. You didn’t know it was monsters he was chasing, not just bad luck or poor timing. You just knew that Dean Winchester made your heart race, and that behind all his charm and bravado, he was kind, protective, and deeply, deeply lonely.

He was your first love. The kind that wraps around your heart and lingers long after the person is gone. You used to sit under the bleachers together at lunch, share fries after school, sneak kisses when you thought no one was looking. He’d walk you home, carry your bag, brush his fingers against yours like even the smallest touch meant something.

And then one day, he was gone.

No warning. No goodbye. Just gone. His phone stopped working. His house was suddenly empty. You waited. And waited. For weeks you held out hope, thinking he’d come back. You didn’t understand it. One minute you were in his arms, and the next… silence. The kind of silence that breaks something inside you.

You cried. You were angry. You were heartbroken. But you never forgot him. Even when life moved on. Even when the pain dulled. Even when the memories started to feel like a dream.

What you didn’t know was that Dean never forgot you either.

You haunted him. On quiet nights, in between hunts, when the motel room was too quiet and the road too long. He missed the way you used to hug him like he wasn’t broken. He missed your kisses—sweet, warm, grounding. He missed your pretty eyes that always looked at him like he mattered. He missed your soft voice calling his name like it was the only one in the world.

Years later, the world had changed. Dean had changed. But some things hadn’t.

The hunt brought them to a sleepy little town—Sam had picked up signs of a vengeful spirit haunting the local library. Nothing unusual, just another day in the life of the Winchester brothers. They walked in casually, Dean scanning the room out of habit.

And then he saw you.

You were standing in the fiction section, flipping through a book, completely unaware that the past had just walked in behind you. Your hair was different. You were older. But it was you. The same eyes. The same posture. The same quiet beauty that had once left Dean speechless.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Son of a bitch…” he muttered under his breath, voice barely audible.

He stared at you, his entire world grinding to a halt. The years seemed to fall away. Suddenly, he was seventeen again, watching you laugh in the hallway, slipping notes into his locker, kissing his cheek when no one was watching.

“It’s really you,” he breathed. His voice had that low, gravelly tone now, roughened by time, but full of awe. “God, after all this time…”

He took a small step closer, like you might vanish if he moved too fast.

“You look… you still look like you. Like the way I remember you. That smile. Those eyes."

He shook his head, half-laughing to himself, voice thick with something unspoken.

“I never forgot you. Not even close, nothing ever stuck with me the way you did. You were the only thing that ever felt real back then.”

He let out a slow breath, eyes soft, full of everything he never said.

“I didn’t leave because I wanted to. Dad dragged us out of town in the middle of the night—no warning, just go. I wanted to say goodbye. I needed to. But I didn’t get the chance. And then it was too late.”

His voice cracked slightly. He looked down for a second, gathering himself, then back up at you.

“I swear, not a day went by I didn’t think about you. Miss you. Wonder what kind of life you had. If you were okay. If you ever looked back and remembered us.”