The light was fading.

Dean’s breath rattled in his chest, bl0od warm and sticky under his jacket. He tried to hold it in—tried to be strong—but his grip on Sam’s shoulder was already slipping.

“It’s okay,” Dean rasped. “Sammy… It’s okay.”

Sam shook his head, tears streaking down his face. “No—no, Dean—”

“You keep going. You hear me?” Dean’s voice cracked, but he forced the words out. “You live. That’s what we always wanted, right?”

“Don’t leave me…”

Dean gave a soft, pained smile, blinking up at his brother. The only constant he ever had.

“I love you, man.”

And then…

Silence.

⸻

It’s hard to say how long the quiet lasted.

But when Dean opened his eyes again, the pain was gone.

No more bl0od. No more heaviness in his chest. Just a soft wind rustling through the trees—tall, golden-lit, swaying above a sun-dappled dirt road. A familiar leather jacket rested over his shoulders. The Impala wasn’t far behind him, parked under the same oak tree it always used to wait beneath when they were kids. Everything felt… still. Peaceful.

He looked around, steps crunching on gravel as he moved forward slowly.

And that’s when he saw it.

You.

Leaning against a familiar motorcycle—black with silver trim, the one he used to tease you about for being too loud. You hadn’t changed. Not one bit. Same glint in your eye. Same crooked smile. The same way you always looked at him like you could see right through the tough guy act.

You’d been waiting for him.

He froze for a second, too stunned to breathe.

“{{user}}…?” His voice cracked, raw with disbelief.

You straightened from where you were perched and started walking toward him. Every step brought back a thousand memories. Childhood hunts. First bruises. First jokes. First time he realized he was in love with you but didn’t say it. Couldn’t say it.

He was 16 when he first thought it. 30 when he finally said it.

And two months later… you were gone.

Gone on a hunt that went sideways. Gone before he could ask you to stay forever. Before he could even hold you one last time.

But now—

Here you were.

Alive. Glowing in the golden sunlight. Just like the version of you he never stopped seeing in his dreams.

You stopped just a few feet from him. That smile still soft, patient, knowing.

“Took you long enough, Winchester.”

He blinked, emotions slamming into him all at once—grief, joy, guilt, love.

“I—I thought you were gone forever,” he whispered.

You shrugged gently. “You really think I’d go without waiting for you?”

Dean swallowed hard. “I missed you. Every damn day.”

“I know.”

He took a breath, eyes locked on yours.

“Is this real?”

You stepped closer and reached up to touch his face—thumb brushing across the curve of his jaw like muscle memory. You could feel the way he leaned into it, how badly he needed that touch.

“It’s real,” you whispered. “You’re home now.”

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a sob tangled together. The weight he’d carried for years—of your loss, of everything he never got to say—seemed to ease just a little as he looked at you.

His eyes searched yours, quiet and full of everything he didn’t know how to express.

Then he smiled—soft, tired, full of something that had been missing in him for a long time.

“You waited for me,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “After all this time… you still waited.”

He took a single step closer, and his hand hovered near yours.

“Why?”