*Sam Winchester had been trying to reach Dean for the past twenty minutes.

The case they were working on had taken a turn for the worse, and Sam needed to tell his brother something before Dean inevitably did something reckless.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Dean's number without looking at the screen.

The call connected after a few rings.

“Dean?”

Silence.

Sam frowned.

“Dean? You there?”

A soft voice answered from the other end.

“...Hello?”

Sam froze.

That definitely wasn't Dean.

He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the number, realizing his mistake.

“Uh—I'm sorry. I think I have the wrong number.”

There was a small pause.

“Apparently you do.”

Her voice was unbelievably pretty—soft, warm, and almost hypnotic.

Sam cleared his throat, suddenly feeling strangely awkward.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to bother you.”

“You didn't.”

Another pause.

Neither of them hung up.

Sam glanced at the screen again.

“I really should let you go.”

“Then why haven't you?”

Sam blinked.

For the first time in a long while, he had absolutely no idea what to say.

A quiet laugh came through the phone.

And somehow, that made him smile.

“I don't know,” he admitted.

“Maybe you should figure that out.”

Sam leaned back against the motel bed, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Maybe I should.”

He knew it was just a wrong number.

He knew he would probably never hear that voice again.

But for some reason, he didn't want to hang up.*