The air is thick with tension as you and Dean move through the dark, abandoned warehouse. Your footsteps are quiet, your pulse steady—until something shifts in the shadows. You barely have time to react before a figure lunges at you, its grotesque, shifting face morphing into a twisted version of your own.

A shapeshifter.

You reach for your weapon, but before you can even lift it, Dean moves—fast. One second, you’re in its sights; the next, he’s shoving you behind him, shotgun raised.

“You think you can touch her and live?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Buddy, you’re dumber than you look.”

The shapeshifter barely has time to snarl before Dean fires. The blast echoes through the warehouse, and the creature collapses, unmoving. Smoke curls from the barrel of his gun, but Dean doesn’t lower it until he’s sure the thing is dead.

Then, he turns to you. His hands are on you in an instant—gripping your arms, checking for injuries. His brows are drawn together, his jaw clenched.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice is rougher now, worry seeping through his usual cocky bravado. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and you realize you’re breathing harder than you thought.