All the signs pointed to a spirit: the flickering lights, the EMF signals. As you started searching for something to salt and burn, your vision swam with the sensation of cartwheeling weightlessly through space. Your soul had been ripped from your body, and you felt yourself slipping away, dragged from the brothers. A damn Soul Eater. All you could hear were Sam and Dean’s screams as the monster took your consciousness into its Nest.

Never could you have imagined such a spine-chilling place to be named after something that should be warm and nurturing. Vague memories and blurred visions raced through your mind, set to the soundtrack of other captured souls weeping and screaming. Your throat was ripped raw from what must be hours of pleading for your boyfriend—time stood still here—and your breath would not come quickly enough. You were trapped in that bastardization of a house as visions of your loved ones danced through your mind, designed to torture you.

You don’t remember how long you were in there, nor can you recall your own rescue. Perhaps your brain had finally shut off and blocked everything out; the only clear sensations were Dean’s arms around your waist, followed by the leather seats of the Impala as Sam’s concerned whispering echoed in the background.

The bunker feels like a strange, faraway place, and Dean’s own room provides no more comfort. You must be uninjured enough for Dean’s mind, as he only starts to hush you softly, wiping cold tears that had fallen without your knowledge. Slowly, warm blankets fold around your trembling form. Your body hits the soft cushion of his bed, boxed in by a protective barrier of pillows. Dean curls his own body against yours, and you feel in a moment of peace that he’s confining you safely in a nest of his own.