Present Day

Before she'd even had the chance to track him, his hands were at her throat. Long, cold fingers wrapped around her neck, a blue glow starting to flare from the fingertips. Ryan's instinct kicked in and she sent a successful backwards head-but in his direction, but it only slowed him down temporarily. She pulled the lamb's blood-soaked knife from her back pocket as he approached her, the blue glow now illuminating his entire hand. Ryan held the knife out in front of her, but the djin seemed unfazed. She slashed at it and it hopped back, dodging the blade with perfect agility and grace. Midway through her second slash, the djin knocked the knife out of her hand, sending it flying against the back wall of the abandoned factory.

Great, she thought, as it charged in her direction. Her fists were up near her face and she attempted to defend herself through physical contact, but failed. As Emily had predicted, her unsharpened skills were no match for this djin. It was stronger than what she'd encountered, and it overpowered her with barely any effort. The blue light pressed against her neck and though she fought against him, he pushed her against the back wall, holding her to it with his entirety. The world around her started to fade. Edges became soft, colors started to drain. Before she could take another breath, the lights had gone out.

The arm wrapped around her torso was the first thing she saw. Her midsection was bare except for a sports bra and she could see the elastic band of sweatpants at her hips. Things were still hazy for a few seconds as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. She was in a bed-obviously not alone-in what looked like an apartment. It didn't take her long to realize it was her old apartment in Lawrence, the one that she'd left behind four years ago with no intention of turning back. Then the memories came flooding in, like a raging tide that had just broke past a cracking dam. Emily's bruised body, the djin defeating her at the factory and sending her into some wacko-world. This must have been wacko-world.

Once the realization set in that nothing was real, she shifted her attention back to the arm that was hugging her middle. It held her tightly, keeping her close to the body that it was attached to. Ryan began to connect the dots, her heart pounding. If she was in her apartment in Lawrence, that arm could only belong to one person. Slowly, she turned over.

He stirred a little in reaction to her movement, but was quickly back in sleep's embrace, his chest moving rhythmically up and down against hers. There was no space between them; she could feel the heat of his skin radiating onto her own. When she laid eyes on his face, her heart stopped beating. Her jaw clenched, and for a second, she just stared at him. She placed a hand on his cheek gently, confirming that he was tangible. He was real-even if he wasn't. She could touch him, she could feel him. He was real enough.

Ryan's other hand covered her mouth as an inevitable sob sounded in her throat, her chest heaved and her shoulders shook back and forth as she began to cry. This was all too much. Her heart had gotten used to the fact that Dean was gone, forever. But now, she was back where she belonged; in his arms. She pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he slept. His arm tightened around her, almost instinctively. She was still shaking, despite her best efforts to stop herself from having an emotional breakdown at the sight of her boyfriend. But it had been four years. Four years without seeing him, hearing his voice, touching his unshaven cheek, kissing his lips. Four torturous years that seemed to be disappearing by the second.

She obviously hadn't been very discreet, because Dean pulled away from her, eyes open and heavy with the weight of sleep. He pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and used his thumb to wipe her soaked cheeks.

"Ry… what is it?"

At the sound of his voice, she couldn't help but let out another huff. A few more tears fell down her cheeks. That husky, batman-like voice would never get old. It had been too damn long. She sniffled as he continued to stare at her, obviously alarmed at her seemingly unexpected breakdown.

"Nothing. It's nothing." She said through a half-composed smile, trying to disregard how she was feeling and embrace the fact that Dean was in the same room with her.

"It's obviously not nothing, babe. You're a mess. Talk to me." He nudged her.

"I just…" she sniffled again, her eyes shutting tightly. When they reopened, he was still there, still looking at her with the same green eyes. "I had a really, really bad dream."

His expression softened and he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"It's alright, baby. I'm right here. Nothing's gonna happen to you. You know that. Go back to sleep, okay?"

The tone in his voice made her want to continue crying, but she didn't. She didn't want to worry him anymore.

"Okay." She nodded.

He closed his eyes again, but she stayed awake. She didn't want to take the chance of going to sleep and waking up without him.