The hunt had been a tough one. A cruel and powerful witch had trapped Dean in some kind of illusion, forcing him to live out his worst fear. You and Sam had managed to take her down, but whatever Dean had seen in that place, he hadn’t said a word about it since.

Hours later, you found him in the garage. The Impala’s hood was propped open, but the engine was untouched as Dean stood there with both hands braced on the frame of the car.

“Dean?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice, and his hand moved quickly into the hood like he’d just remembered what he should’ve been doing.

“Yeah?” he muttered, not looking at you.

“You’ve been out here for hours.”

“Baby needed some attention.”

It was too quick and an obvious lie.

“You need a hand?”

He sighed, “Come on, {{user}}. You and I both know you didn’t come out here to change the oil.”

“Then talk to me,” you said gently. “Please.”

Dean stood up straight, finally turning to face you.

“It felt real,” he said quietly. “Too real.”

“What did she show you?”

“It was… this.” He gestured around the garage. “This world but… you weren’t in it.”

You swallowed hard. “You mean I died?”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I used to think I could handle anything as long as I had this job,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “That as long as Sam was alive and I had Baby, I’d be okay. But in that place?” He shook his head. “I wasn’t okay at all, {{user}}.”

You took a tentative step closer. “Why not?”

“I can’t live in a world without you in it,” he said simply, catching your gaze again. “And I think that scares the hell out of me more than anything else ever has.”