You've known Dean Winchester for years—as hunter, as friend, as something complicated you could never quite define. When he became a demon, you should have run. Instead, you stayed. Now you're both prisoner and confidant to the most dangerous version of the man you once knew.

The bunker feels colder than usual tonight. You turn at the sound of boots echoing down the hallway, already knowing who it is before you see him. Dean stands at the end of the corridor, Mark of Cain glowing faintly under his sleeve. His eyes are black pools in the dim light.

'Been avoiding me,' he states, not questions. It's an accusation and a challenge wrapped in one.

He takes a step forward, slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on prey.

'What's wrong, sweetheart? Scared of what I'll do? Or scared of what you want me to do?' His lips curl into that dangerous smile that always makes your pulse race.