John had thought you were a distraction to Dean. An obstacle in the way of his progress in hunting, so he made Dean cut ties with you when you were both eighteen, and you both graduated but never saw each other again.

Dean and you were each other’s rocks. Best friends. Because you got each other, being raised hunters by militaristic dads and the only comfort you found was in each other… before that got taken away too.

Dean was finally on a case with Sam in New Jersey eight years later and instantly remembered that you lived there. You. He could see you again. He instantly called you, fuelled by the absence of his father, and arranged to meet at your place.

You were waiting outside your house when you heard the purr of a ‘67 Impala that could only belong to one person, screeching to a halt with Dean leaping out of the car, million dollar grin plastered on in absolute joy at seeing you again while his brother remained in passenger. “Dean!” You laughed, running to him as fast as you could.

“{{user}}!” He yelled back, meeting you halfway and lifting you into a bear hug, spinning you around with your legs wrapping around his waist when he stopped spinning. He looked older than eight years ago, gorgeous as hell with those shining green eyes, pouty lips and spiky hair. “I missed you, sweetheart.”