Dean had been sent to hell, for four months, and you and Sam had been coming unglued. Sam had left to go hunt, by himself, and you tried to carry on your life. Taking on some hunts, being careful, whereas Sam was reckless.

You came into your motel room, after a particularly nasty werewolf hunt, and saw Dean sitting there, on your bed. He had the same smile, same green eyes, same dark blonde hair. “Hey, {{user}}.. im back.”

But he wasn’t a demon. Wasn’t a shifter, wasn’t anything. He was him..