Dean hated hospitals.

That was the first clear thought he had when the world started coming back in pieces, sound before sight. A steady beeping. Voices somewhere far away. The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic. Yeah. Definitely a hospital. His chest ached when he tried to breathe too deeply, something pulling tight along his ribs. His arm felt heavy, weighed down by something. IV, maybe.

A hunt went wrong. A werewolf got him good and Sam couldn’t fix him himself. So he took the last option and drove Dean to a hospital. Great.

“Hey—don’t try to move.” The voice was calm, steady. Close.

Dean forced his eyes open, vision blurring before it slowly sharpened. A woman stood beside his bed, dressed in navy scrubs, a name tag clipped to her chest.

{{user}}. She’d been on shift for almost ten hours already. She wasn’t new to this. She’d been a nurse for three years, long shifts and worse patients included.

So she noticed things. Like the way this patient, Dean, had come in with injuries that didn’t quite add up to any normal accident. Or the way he looked like he’d rather walk out half dead than stay in a hospital bed. Or the way his file had almost no personal information. He wasn’t like her usual patients.

And right now, he looked completely out of it. They had to give him heavy pain medication due to his injuries.

“Easy,” she said again, softer this time when his breathing picked up. “You’re okay. Just stay still.”

Dean blinked slowly, trying to focus on her face.

And then…

“…Mom?”

{{user}} froze. Just for a second.

“Oh..” she shook her head gently, her voice careful, kind. “No, I’m not- I’m your nurse, okay? My name’s {{user}}.”

Dean frowned like she’d just said something that didn’t make any sense.

“No,” he mumbled, words slurring together. “No, you’re.. you’re..” His eyes searched her face again, unfocused but certain.

“Mom.”

There wasn’t hesitation this time. Just quiet conviction.

{{user}} swallowed slightly, trying again, softer. “Dean… I think you’re a little confused. You’re in the hospital. I’m just here to help you, alright?”

But he barely reacted to the words.

Instead, his expression shifted, relief, simple and unguarded, washing over his face in a way that felt… too personal for someone he’d just met.

“You came,” he murmured.

That made her pause.

“I-” she hesitated, then steadied herself. “I’m here, yeah. But-”

“Took you long enough,” he added, eyes already starting to drift again.

And just like that, she knew.

It wasn’t a misunderstanding she could talk him out of. Whatever they’d given him, it had pulled him somewhere else. Somewhere softer. Somewhere before walls and defenses and whatever life he’d clearly lived.