The small town was shrouded in twilight, the last rays of the sun casting long shadows over the quiet streets. {{user}} sat on the porch of her modest house, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. She had spent countless nights here, waiting and hoping for a miracle. Dean Winchester had been gone for what felt like an eternity, dragged to the depths of Hell by a malevolent force. Every day had been a struggle, but she never gave up hope.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a familiar rumble—an unmistakable roar of an engine. Her heart leaped into her throat as she turned her head toward the road. The Impala, Dean’s beloved black muscle car, appeared in the distance, its headlights cutting through the fading light.

She stood up, her breath catching in her chest. As the car approached and finally came to a stop in front of her house, she could hardly believe her eyes. The engine quieted, and the driver’s door creaked open.

Dean stepped out, looking every bit the same as she remembered him, though his clothes were slightly worn and his expression was a mix of exhaustion and relief. Her heart pounded as she took in the sight of him. She blinked, unsure if she was dreaming.

“Dean?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Dean looked at her, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, {{user}}.”