If I owned undertale, I wouldn't be writing this and there'd be more Sans. And if I owned SPN, Dean would be loved.

Dean couldn't move. All he could do was lay there and sob.

Yesterday, He and Sam had been on a witch hunt. Oh gosh, Sam…. Just thinking about him made Dean want to vomit.

Of all the things they'd been through and faced, of all of heaven and hell, in the end it was a witch that got him. Dean just didn't know what to do.

But then Toriel came along, and she helped him and was okay with him not wanting to talk, although she did try to get him to eat a little. She just sat there and put his head in her lap while she whispered reassurances, messing with his hair and stroking his face. But it wasn't weird though, it was far from it in fact. It was relaxing, calming, he felt safe. A feeling he hadn't felt since….

Mom. He didn't know what it was with this thing, but thank goodness that it was the ones to appear of the monsters he had met. She was just….. soothing, and real and THERE and he just-

He didn't know what to do. He'd lost mom, but he moved on because he had to take care of Sammy. He lost dad, but he pushed through for Sam. But now that he was gone?

Dean just didn't feel like he had any reason to live.

His thoughts were interrupted from a knock that sounded downstairs. He moaned a little, not wanting to deal with anyone at the moment.

"Would you like me to get the door my child?"

Dean really didn't. He just wanted to sulk in bed and feel miserable. He didn't want this thing to leave him alone with his own crushing emotions.

But he nodded anyway, because no one knows where the bunker was except a few close friends, so it was probably important.

Toriel made her way down the stairs and open the door to a tall young man with hair that was much too long. He had a slight limp from a twisted ankle, and he was a bit bloodied and bruised, but that didn't seem to matter to him. He just made his way past Tori and barely spared her a glace.

He made his way up the stairs to the room that wasn't his and opened the door.

"…Dean?"

He was immediately tackled, and was being held in a hug with a vice like grip.

"Sammy." Dean started crying, beyond relived that Sam was alright. He wanted to ask how he was alive, but at this point he didn't care why and he didn't think he could bring himself to talk if he tried.

Sam hugged Dean back with all his strength, with no idea why Dean was acting like he was, but glad to be home.

Toriel brought them both pie and soothed them, as Dean barely conveyed that he thought Sam had died. Apparently the witch conjured up an illusion to make Sam seem dead while she went off with him somewhere else. Not that it mattered now, because Sam was alive and the witch was dead.

They fell asleep in their chairs, both refusing to go to bed and take their eyes off the other; So Toriel took them both to bed.

Even in sleep they hung on to each other as they shared Deans to small bed, simply convincing themselves even in sleep that the other was alive.

They never forgot that old goat woman, and even though she would later on look at them with betrayal, anger, and malice, for years they would still think of her with nothing but fond thoughts.