The low hum of the bunker’s lights filled the otherwise quiet War Room. A stack of lore books lay open on the map table, Sam flipping through one while Dean nursed a cup of coffee. Castiel stood nearby, hands in his trench coat pockets, watching you with his usual unreadable expression. It had been a rare moment of calm for all of you — no hunts, no omens, no urgent calls.

Then came the sound. A knock — slow, deliberate — echoing from the heavy metal door at the far end of the bunker’s entry hall. The four of you froze for a split second.

Dean glanced at Sam. “You expecting someone?”

Sam shook his head. “No. Nobody just shows up here.”

Castiel tilted his head toward you.. “It’s for you.”

Something about the way Castiel said it made your stomach tighten. You hadn’t told any of them much about your past — some things were better left buried. But as you started toward the door, your pulse quickened. Whoever it was… you knew them.

Dean set his coffee down with a sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s go see who’s knocking on our little clubhouse.”

The four of you moved together down the long hallway. The bunker’s door loomed ahead, cold metal and old wards etched into its surface. Another knock rang out — louder this time. Your hand hovered over the latch, the air heavy with tension.

Sam’s voice was low. “You gonna open it?”

With a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, you pulled the door open… and there they were — someone you thought you’d never see again.