I groaned heavily, rolling onto my stomach, searching for anything in the darkness. Bleary eyes slowly focused on a bedside clock that told me it was the wee hours of the morning. What a vivid dream, I thought as I turned once more, hoping to sleep a few more hours. I snuggled into the thick comforter to fight off the cold, sighing deeply until my fingers brushed bare flesh.

My body froze in fear at the presence of the sleeping person next to me. I quietly scrambled to the edge of the bed, reaching for my weapon; but the quilt had other ideas. My tossing had tangled it around my legs and it now acted as a deadweight. I let out a screech as it dragged me to the floor in a mess of limbs and fabric. The more I struggled to free myself, the more it tried to suffocate me. My element of surprise gone, the goal was to escape in time for an effective counterattack.

"What in the world have you done?" an amused voice asked from above, heavy footsteps marking their progress across the floor. Just when I thought I found an opening to free myself, the voice ripped away the blanket.

I raised my arms in self-defense but stopped short at the familiar face gazing down at me. "Dean?" I muttered in disbelief.

The tension released from my body at the sight, but I couldn't convince myself to drop my guard. Of course, it was Dean; but somehow, he seemed different. His eyes were still the color of emeralds, hair dirty blonde albeit sleep-tossed, and bare chest just as muscular. Maybe that's where the subtle difference lay. Scars no longer covered his body from hunts and spells, nor was his anti-possession tattoo inked across his chest. Something I couldn't place my finger on was deeply wrong.

He grinned gently, hand extended to me. "You were expecting someone else?" His tone was teasing, but the joke was lost on me.

I eyed him suspiciously, too confused to trust him. "I was expecting no one! Why were we in bed together?" I demanded an answer as I pushed myself to my feet. If he had tried any funny busy while we were drunk, I was going to rip his throat out. And if he had, where had Sam been to stop us?

Dean titled his head, now as confused as me. "Well, I tend to get an earful when I fall asleep on the couch."

I threw my hands in the air, about to ask him what the hell that had to do with anything. He raised his to grab my wrists before I could flail and my eyes zeroed in on a silver, metal band wrapped around his left ring finger. "Wh- what is that?" I stuttered instead, pulling his calloused hand toward me for a better look. It wasn't Mary's ring that typically resided on his right hand. This ring was too new with far less scratches, a faint brushed texture encircling it.

"My wedding band?" His words buzzed in my ears to the point I was sure I had misheard him. Dean wasn't married; hell would freeze over before he could make that kind of commitment. Even as I tried to convince myself, I felt an unbearably heavy weight on my own finger. My head seemed to turn in slow motion as I internally screamed at myself not to look.

I dropped his hand to stare at the silver diamond ring and matching band constricting my finger. My knees gave out beneath me and I crumpled to the bed, Dean hovering protectively to catch me. "Married? You- you're- I- me- We're married?" Panicky words tumbled out my mouth as I hyperventilated. What kind of Friends level shit was this, I thought, tearing my hands through my hair.

"For about three years now," he answered slowly as if I shouldn't need to ask. I doubled over to stick my head between my legs, not enjoying how the walls of the room seemed to close in as my brain tried comprehending what was happening. Dean, however, took the opportunity to methodically run his hands over my scalp as he sank onto the bed beside me.

"What are you doing?" I snapped in an exasperated tone, shoving his hands off. There were larger things at stake than massaging my head.

"Making sure you didn't smack your head when you fell off the bed," he said, completely serious as he met my eye.

"I didn't hit my head!" I shouted harshly, slapping his persistent hands once more.

He made a low growl in his throat when I did but didn't yell back as I expected. "Then why are you acting so strange?" he questioned, trying to prove his point.

How was I supposed to answer that? I was beyond confused, had no clue where I was, or if this was even the real Dean. And he just expected me to pour my soul out to him? "I'm not acting strange." I forced the false words through tight lips.

He appraised me carefully, head titled to the side as he watched me. It was a gaze I recognized well; one I had been on the receiving end of many times. It nearly tricked me into believing it was my Dean sitting in front of me. I held his gaze firmly, nonetheless, determined not to give anything away.

After a moment, he simply shrugged, letting it roll off his back. "If you say so, baby. I'll be here when you're ready to talk." He obviously didn't believe me, but I couldn't dwell on it long. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead which sent me reeling. As he stood, he said, "Well, I'm gonna hop in the shower. And you're welcome to join me."

I made the mistake of looking up and caught him shooting me a sexy wink over his shoulder. "It's a bit early for a shower, don't you think?" I barely managed to squeak out, admiring the rigid planes of his bare back as he trekked to the in-suite bathroom.

"Some of us actually have to work today," he sang back in a teasing voice. I preoccupied myself with the décor of the bedroom when he started to relieve himself of his pants and boxers. It was quant with a distinct farmhouse flair that seemed like something I would pick for my own home. Though it only added to my delirium and the feeling that I had been in this room before.

"Why don't I have to go in, again?" I asked, curiosity beginning to get the better of me.

Dean's voice called out to me over the sound of the shower. "You never work on Sundays, baby. Not unless someone has a foal ready to drop or something like that."

"O- oh, right," I called back, more confused than I was before. Maybe my answers lay elsewhere, other than the room I was in. I thought better of stepping outside when I noticed I was wearing nothing but underwear and an oversized Metallica t-shirt that clearly didn't belong to me.

After scavenging for jeans, a bra, and t-shirt, I tentatively turned the doorknob to the outside world. The sight that met me was the absolute last thing I expected. Nostalgia threatened to bring me to my knees, and I had to catch myself on the doorframe, hand covering my mouth.

I was home.

The room behind me was my parent's bedroom, on the opposite side of the stair well from three identical doors that had housed my brothers and me. From the top of the stairs, I could just see the worn wood flooring leading into the living room. I couldn't convince myself to take another step, afraid the sight would disappear around me into a cloud of ash.

Instead, I leaned my forehead against the doorframe, closing my eyes as I breathed in deeply. It was the sweet smell of my childhood home, a mixture of old oak, soil, and leather. It spoke of the life well lived here and the many generations there had been to work the land we were given. My emotions bubbled out in a low moan as I dared to run my hand along the adjacent wall. My fingertips found all the rough imperfections in the old paint, tracing them until I was stopped by a sharp edge.

I peeked at where my hand had stopped, finding a picture frame that I didn't recognize. Curiosity overcame my fear as I shuffled forward. Nestled on the wall was a picture of Dean and I, dressed in purple Kansas State colors, standing outside a football stadium. I gently pulled it from the nail suspending it, just to make sure I was seeing things right. There was no mistaking who the two people were in the photo or the pure expression of joy on our faces. He was holding me tightly, hand at my waist, as I leaned against his chest. We looked so happy; and in love.

I quickly replaced it, trying not to dwell on that last thought. Dozens of other photos caught my attention before I had the common sense to turn away. Littered around the house was our life story, replacing old family photos and filling the missing gaps in my mind. First dates, family events, engagements, graduations, weddings, and everything in between covered the walls.

I walked the house twice over, finally collapsing on the couch to collect my thoughts. I had a firmer grasp on who I was here, and who Dean was to me; but there was so much more the pictures couldn't tell me. The walls said I was a new veterinarian who had met the love of my life in college, married him shortly afterwards, and moved home to start our careers. It was a wonderful life, better than even I could imagine; but was it real? That one small thought continued to nag in the back of my mind.

"Whatcha doing down here?" Dean asked casually as he walked by. I jumped, making a startled noise as his voice brought me back to reality. His small chuckle lingered as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Just thinking," I said as I moved off the couch to follow him. The kitchen was mostly the same as I remembered, though we had added new paint and cabinets. Dean had his back to me, dressed in old jeans with oil stains, a dark t-shirt, and plaid overshirt. Good to see some things never change.

"About?" he questioned, pouring himself a thermos of coffee before turning to face me. I almost answered, instantly pursing my lips when I realized my mistake. My instincts were still telling me to be cautious, flashing yellow hazard lights at the prying question.

I hastily lied, faking normalcy. "How much I don't wantcha to go to work." I added a small smile as I spoke, doing my best impression of a little housewife.

He pretended not to notice my clear hesitation, instead taking a sip of coffee. "You know I wish I didn't have to," he said, reaching to pull my body flush against him. His touch was gentle as he wrapped strong arms around me; but my back was tense, nerves strung tight. He placed a small kiss on top of my head, lingering slightly before moving to finish getting ready.

"How long'll you be gone?" I trailed after him as he paced the lower level of the house. Anxiety of being left alone in a strange place steadily grabbed hold of me; to the point where I was hesitant to let this Dean out of my sight.

"Just a couple of hours. I've got some important parts that are supposed to arrive today." He dug through the fridge as he spoke, giving me time to spot a magnet that had Winchester's Auto Garage scrawled in old school lettering. I couldn't help but smile like an idiot at the thought of his dream come true. My Dean would have enjoyed an apple pie life like this, happily covered in oil and grease, working with his hands. I hid my strange smile as he popped upright with a container of leftovers in his hand. "Gotta get them all installed. And if there's time, I gotta take a look at that old Ferris Bueller Ferrari the guys are all too afraid to touch."

"And what about me?" I pouted as he kneeled to lace up his pair of work boots that had been sitting by the front door.

I received an eyeroll with my answer. "You'll be fine," he assured me. When I gave him a skeptical look, he said, "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Well…" I trailed off, silently counting things on my fingers as he shrugged into his faded leather jacket. Funny, I thought John's jacket had a different lining on the inside instead of fabric; and was a lighter shade of brown.

"Shut up," he huffed, aggressively grabbing hold of me. Before I could think to push him off, his lips crashed down on mine. My eyes shot open as he deepened the kiss, my knees going weak when his hand caught the back of my head. But as soon as the kiss had started, it ended just as abruptly.

I sucked in air rapidly, pushing against his chest to give me room to breathe. Dean simply stood there, giving me a wicked smile that said he knew exactly what he had done. Colorful words coursed through my mind, but I found my mouth unwilling to cooperate.

"I'll be home in time for dinner at your parents' house." He gave me a quick wink before closing the door, leaving me rooted in place. A moment later, a familiar engine roared to life, throwing dirt as it sped down the driveway.

I wanted to snort in disgust at the taste of him clinging to my lips, but his words captured my attention. He had said dinner with my parents. If the old house still stood and Dean wasn't a hunter then maybe it was possible that my family lived as well. That joyous thought also filled me with a deep sense of dread. I needed to find the way out of this place.

Grabbing a pair of boots, I headed out the front door in the direction of the barn. I pulled the heavy doors open, the scent of horseflesh and old leather rushing over me. Three horses curiously peaked their heads out of the stalls to get a glimpse of the food-bringer. Two of them I didn't recognize, though they happily nickered as I walked by. But the third was Dan's old buckskin gelding that I had learned to ride on when I was a kid.

Saddling him quickly, I burst out the side of the barn, galloping towards the rear fields. I was determined to ride as far as I possibly could, waiting for someone or something to stop me. That would be my ticket back to the real world. I just had to make it that far.

Hours later, the horse and I were both sweating profusely. The hot sun had slowed us down to barely more than a trot and I hadn't thought to bring water with us. We had made it across multiple neighbors' property without incidence. Now I had us combing every acre of the three hundred my family owned.

Nothing seemed out of place as we trudged on. Every field, path, and dilapidated building were in their exact location. Wildlife filled the woods, chattering pleasantly against my whirlwind thoughts. I couldn't wrap my mind around what I was seeing with my eyes. The word wrong flashed everywhere I looked, yet the world was peaceful. And completely perfect. Fatigued physically and mentally, I urged the gelding back in the direction of the house. Perhaps my answer didn't lie out here.

After taking care of the horse, I dragged myself up the porch steps and upstairs for a much-needed shower. Utterly tired of the constant buzzing in my head, I attempted to drown it out with music. I hummed lightly as I rinsed the grime down the drain.

"It starts in my toes, makes me crinkle my nose… Wherever it goes, I always-"

"You do know what that song's about, right?" The unexpected voice immediately stopped my singing with a startled gasp.

I ripped the shower curtain open, thinking I was the only person home. A curious Dean, leaning against the bathroom counter, perked his eyebrows as the shower curtain hugged me. "You scared the hell out of me!" I fumed, pushing my wet hair off my forehead.

"Sorry," he said in an unapologetic voice, "I thought you heard me come in." He steadily made his way toward me as he talked.

"Obviously not," I quipped, pulling the curtain with me as I stepped back. He made a small noise in his throat as he stood over me, trying to use his height as an advantage. "What are you doing?" I asked, grabbing a firmer hold on the shower curtain.

His eyes trailed up the shape of my body from toe to head. "Give me a peak?" he asked in a sultry voice, his gaze lingering on my face.

"In your dreams," I told him with an irritated noise, pushing him backwards and pulling the curtain shut in one fluid motion. I turned my back to him as well, in case he didn't take no for an answer.

He must have thought better of it, instead mumbling under his breath, "Such a tease."