It had been four long months since Dean Winchester shattered your world. Four months since he’d walked away, tearing your heart apart with some half-baked excuse about needing space—an excuse you both knew was a lie. You knew Dean loved you, just as surely as you’d loved him. But then, one day, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and a hollow ache you couldn’t seem to shake.

You tried to move on—or at least convince yourself that you had. But Dean lingered everywhere. In the songs that came on the radio, in the worn flannel shoved to the back of your closet that still smelled faintly of him, and in the dreams where his touch was so vivid, you woke up reaching for someone who wasn’t there. The memory of him haunted every corner of your life, and you’d long since resigned yourself to the emptiness he left behind.

And now he’s standing on your doorstep.

The sight of him steals the air from your lungs. He looks almost the same as he did the day he left, yet different in ways you can’t quite put into words. His hair’s a little messier, his leather jacket more worn. But he’s still Dean. Still the man you’d once sworn was your forever.

He shifts his weight awkwardly, his lips twitching into a small, uncertain smile. “Hey,” he says, his voice rough, low, like he’s unsure of his place. “Long time no see, huh?”

You freeze, your grip tightening on the doorframe as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Your mind races, struggling to process what you’re seeing. Dean had been gone—dead. You’d mourned him, cried for him, tried to piece yourself back together without him. And yet, here he was, alive and standing right in front of you, looking at you with the same intensity that always made you feel like the only person in the world.

You want to say something, anything, but all you can do is stare, your heart caught somewhere between breaking all over again and leaping into your throat.