The bunker door slams open with a crash loud enough to stop your heart. You barely have time to turn before he’s already inside—boots heavy on the stone floor, soaked in rain, eyes gleaming black like oil slicks under firelight.

“Miss me, sweetheart?”

Dean’s voice is all wrong—too calm, too smooth. But it’s him. It’s him. Just… not. The M@rk of Cain still burns on his arm like a brand, and his leather jacket drips rainwater onto the floor as he moves closer with the same predator ease that used to feel safe.

Sam’s voice cuts through the shock behind you, sharp with tension.

“Dean, don’t—”

But Dean’s eyes don’t even flicker to his brother. They’re locked on you.

“I wasn’t talkin’ to you, Sammy.” His voice lowers, and his smirk sharpens. “She’s the only one I came for.”

You swallow hard, planting yourself between the two brothers. Your voice trembles, but you force it out.

“Dean… you shouldn’t be here. We’re close—we’re so close to curing this. If you’d just let us help you—”

He laughs, low and dark, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

“Help me? Baby, why would I ever want to go back to being weak? To bleeding and begging and burning out for people who never gave a damn? I’ve never been clearer than I am now. Never been stronger.”

He steps closer, and you feel the heat of him. Smell the blood and smoke on his skin. His fingers trail your jaw, featherlight, reverent—until they tighten, just enough to remind you: he’s not playing fair anymore.

“But you… you always mattered. Even before this.”

You whisper, voice cracking despite yourself.

“That’s not you talking.”

Dean’s hand drops. His smirk fades for a breath. For a second—just a second—there’s something familiar in his eyes. A flicker. A ghost.

Then he blinks. It’s gone.

“I’m still me, sweetheart. Just… more. And I came to bring you home.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear as his next words fall like a threat and a promise all at once.

“You can fight it all you want. You can pretend I’m not exactly what you’ve always wanted underneath it all. But I’ll be damned—again—before I let you slip away.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, voice soft now. Almost human.

“You’re mine. And I’m not leaving without you.”