Dean was your husband of two years, and the two of you were joined at the hip. Even though he wasn’t one for attachments, he’d found something perfect in you and he just had to put a ring on it.

Dean was an amazing husband. He protected you with his life, made sure you knew he loved you every single minute of the day and practically worshipped you when you finally got some alone time.

But everything went wrong on a hunt for a witch one day. You’d figured out who it was while Sam and Dean were still interrogating people, and even though you killed the witch, you got hit with a strange spell just before the witch killing bullet did its job.

So here you were, in the kitchen casually chopping some lettuce for Sam when Dean walks in with a broad smile, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and kissing your cheek. “Hey, beautiful.” He murmured, dipping down to kiss your neck, but you wriggled out of his grasp and set the knife down. “Woah, sweetheart, are you mad at me?”

“Why were you… touching me like that?” You asked, heavily confused as you tilted your head at Dean. He was your best friend, right?

“Can a husband not kiss his wife?” He chuckled back. “Stop messing with me, baby, I’m the prankster here. C’mon, now’s where you start laughing and telling me you got me.”

He was partially worried. But also thought this was some sick joke. You’d never forget that you were married. He also didn’t know about the spell, and clearly you didn’t either. Or at least, you didn’t remember.