The bunker felt smaller with every passing day. Y/N watched as Dean paced, his eyes flickering between human and something else—something wild, untamed. She’d fallen for him, the shapeshifter who wore borrowed faces, but Sam’s disapproval weighed heavy on her heart

Sam leaned against the library table, arms crossed. “Dean, this isn’t right. You know it.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “She’s not like the others, Sam “

“She’s a shapeshifter,” Sam retorted. “You can’t trust her.”