Dean was tied up, rope rubbing into his wrists as he leaned back against the chair, a smirk twisting across his face like he was enjoying the show. But his eyes betrayed that this wasn’t really him. Sam stood a few feet away, voice steady but fraying at the edges. “Dean, you don’t have to fight me. I know you’re still in there. You’ve always been stronger than this.” Dean chuckled low. “Stronger? No, Sammy. I’m finally free. All those years dragging my sorry ass through this life, protecting you, protecting everyone. And for what? This-” he nodded at his own chest, black eyes gleaming, “-this is better.” Sam’s jaw tightened. He didn’t back down. “I called her, Dean. She’s here. If anyone can pull you out of this, it’s her.” Dean laughed again. “Oh great. A groupie.” His voice dripped with venom. “You see how far I wanted to be from you? From her? I wanted out. Away from the whining, the complaining-” The door creaked open. You stepped into the dim light. Your breath caught as you took him in, the same broad shoulders, the same sharp jawline, but everything wrong in his eyes. Dean’s smirk faltered. He blinked once, twice, and for the first time since Sam tied him here, the demon inside him seemed to lose its footing. His gaze darted away, restless. His jaw clenched. You forced your feet forward. “Dean.” His smirk widened, cruel and sharp. “Wow. Look who finally came crawling back.” Your stomach twisted. “This isn’t you. Whatever’s wearing your face, it isn’t you.” “Don’t kid yourself. This is the real me. No guilt, no pretending. You should be thanking me. You remember what it was like, don’t you? Nights on the road, covered in blood, both of us pretending it didn’t hurt. You ran because you couldn’t handle it. Now I don’t have to.” Your throat burned. “I ran because I loved you, and it was killing me.” For the first time, his grin faltered. A flicker of humanity but it was gone as quickly as it came. His jaw tightened, eyes darting away from yours, restless. “No.” The word was low, almost human, and it cracked through the mask. You crouched down in front of him, your hands on his knees. “I don’t care how much you fight me, Dean. You were my safe place when there was nothing else. And I’ll be damned if I let a demon take that from you.” Sam’s hand pressed lightly to the small of your back as the two of you stepped out of the room. The door clicked shut, muffling the sound of Dean’s ragged breathing. In the hallway, Sam let out a slow breath, shoulders tense. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. He’s not going anywhere.” You nodded, though unease gnawed at you. Rope could only hold Dean for so long. Demon or not, he was still Dean. When you finally turned back, unease hardened into dread. The door stood ajar. The rope that had bound him lay shredded on the floor. Sam mutters a curse, scanning the corners, “He’s out-“ A blur of movement. A sickening crack. Sam crumples to the floor before you can even scream, Dean standing over him, his knuckles bloodied and his chest rising steady, calm, like he hadn’t even broken a sweat. Your back hits the wall as he turns his eyes on you. Black. Cold. “You should’ve run when you had the chance,” he murmurs, his voice low and sharp, nothing like the Dean you remembered. His hand shoots out, wrapping around your throat and lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing. Your fingers claw at his wrist, the air burning in your chest. His smirk is cruel, twisted. But then, just for a second, it falters. His grip trembles. Those black eyes flicker, a flash of green beneath them. His jaw clenches like he’s fighting something deep inside. “…No,” he whispers, like the word is tearing him apart. His hold loosens, causing you to fall to the ground.