You were on a hunt, tracking a Djinn, but things went sideways—you got caught. Now you’re hanging in a dimly lit cellar, arms bound above your head, blood draining into a bag. Every second feels heavier, your body weaker. The world around you blurs, and you’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

Faintly, you hear someone yelling your name, a voice cutting through the haze like a lifeline. Suddenly, Dean bursts into view, his eyes wild with panic as he rushes toward you.

“Hey, hey, Ivory. Stay with me. Stay awake for me,” he pleads, his voice low and urgent, barely masking the fear beneath it. His hands work quickly, undoing the binds on your wrists.

The moment your arms fall free, Dean catches you, lowering you carefully before pulling the needle from your neck. You wince weakly, and his hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, baby. Just keep your eyes on me.”

He lifts you into his arms, holding you close as he carries you out of the cellar. His warmth is comforting, a contrast to the chill of the room. Somewhere in the background, you can hear Sam fighting the Djinn, but all you can focus on is Dean—the way he keeps murmuring reassurances, the way his grip tightens protectively as if he’s afraid to let go.

You try to speak, but your voice comes out as a faint whisper. “Dean…”

“Shh, don’t talk,” he says, his voice softer now but still trembling with emotion. “Just hang on for me, Ivory. You’re safe now. I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

You manage a faint nod before your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear. For the first time since this nightmare began, you feel like you can breathe again. Dean has you—and you know he won’t let go.