you were in the kitchen of your house, cooking up some lunch when the doorbell rang. you put down what you were doing and called out “just a second!”

you put your gun in the back of your waistband, never being too careful. you’d retired from hunting a few years ago and settled down in a townhouse. when you opened the door, it was clear you probably wouldn’t need the weapon, considering who was standing in front of you.

it was dean winchester. he looked up when you opened the door, almost looking a little disheveled. “{{user}}.” he nodded in greeting before clearing his throat. “i need your help.”