The bunker was quieter than usual. Dean sat at the war table, eyes distant and expression lost. The hunt had gone sideways—some spell had hit him hard, and now… nothing. No memories, not even of Sam or Castiel. Sam stood nearby, arms crossed, trying not to show how worried he was. Castiel hovered behind Dean, looking equally tense. Rowena, flipping through one of her ancient spellbooks, muttered under her breath. “I told you, memory spells are tricky,” she said. “It could come back… or it might not.” Dean looked up at her, confused. “You keep saying that like it means something. But I don’t know who any of you are.” Sam sighed, ready to explain again—until the sound of the bunker door creaking open cut through the air. Boots on the metal stairs. A voice, soft and familiar to everyone else but Dean. “Hey, I grabbed some food on the way back, figured we’d all be starving…” Dean’s head snapped toward the hallway like instinct. His breath caught. You stepped into view, your hair messy from the road, jacket slung over your shoulder, that same spark in your eyes that always lit him up. The moment your eyes met his—though he didn’t recognize you—his heart flipped in his chest. Castiel turned, startled. “Dean?” he said gently, like trying to wake him from a dream. He whispered, almost in awe, “Who’s that…?” You blinked, confused, slowing down. “What’s going on?” Sam hesitated. His voice cracked slightly as he said, “That’s @user” He looked at you, unsure if it would hurt more to say it aloud. Rowena looked up, locking eyes with you as she gently finished, “The love of your life.” Dean’s lips parted, his eyes still glued to you like he couldn’t look away even if he tried. “You’re kidding…” he murmured, standing up slowly. “She’s… I was in love with her?” Sam nodded. “Yeah, Dean. You were.”