you'd gone to hell. dean had made a deal for sam and you'd made a deal to take his place. it had been 4 months without you and dean was driving himself crazy with guilt. that was until you'd.. woken up. you'd clawed your way out of the ground, out of your grave, and driven to bobby's in the first car you could find. after a little inevitable fighting and doubt, he'd come around and driven you straight to dean and sam.

now you were stood, breathing hard, in the gravel carpark of a motel staring at the toned back of a man bent over a '67 impala. you just stood there for a moment, emotions you'd squashed for the past 40 years swirling inside of you. eventually he turned around, sensing eyes on him no doubt, and just stared back. he dropped the wrench and rag he was holding, eyes betraying distrust and hurt. he reached for his gun and your eyes widened. bobby's voice rung out behind you, running from his car.

"dean! dean, she's real. i've been through this already," he steps half in front of you, a soothing hand up in front of him.

"thats not possible," dean's voice was hoarse, conflicted.

thick silence hung in the air as you stepped around bobby, wanting to reassure him but the words died in your throat. you took a step forward, then another, and another, until you were an arms length away from him. before you knew it, you both leapt at one another. a strangled sob escaped you, as you both squeezed so tight you might just break bones. he buried his face in your shoulder, strong arms crushing you against his chest. sam heard the commotion and emerged from the motel, his face dropping with disbelief as he strode over. dean pulled back slightly as sam grasped your shoulder and you were promptly crushed into a group hug. god you'd missed them.