"Wait a minute. You don't remember me? Not at all?" This tall specimen of a man asked, his face completely lax, showing how much shock he was in.

"Am I supposed to?" You asked quietly, his gaze burning into you making you feel even more uncomfortable and freaked out than you had been moments earlier. 

"Oh shit." He muttered under his breath. "I wish Dean was here."

Cocking your head to the side, you asked. "Who's Dean."

You watched as his frustration became evident. He ran his hands through his long, shiny hair, turning in a circle. "You don't even know who Dean is?"

"I don't even know who I am. Can you help me?" You told him, the question ending quiet and heart broken. You hated asking a stranger for help, even one who supposedly knew you. 

One hand still rubbing the back of his neck, he nodded, stepping forward. "Of course I will help you Y/N. You don't remember, but you and I, we go way back. We're really good friends who have been through a lot, together."

You nodded, even though you weren't quite sure you believed him. But he was your best option until you could figure something else out. "Your name is? And where am I?"

He kept glancing behind him, and his hand kept moving to the back of his jeans. He seemed a little preoccupied, and nervous, upsetting you a little more. "My name's Sam. You're in a hospital, about 50 miles from where you were last seen, about three days after you had gone missing."

You stood there, considering your options. He really did act like he knew you, but he could also be a good actor who was feeding you lies so you would believe him. You tried to glance around him, to see in the hallway, but his tall, broad frame filled most of it up, leaving only glimpses of a dark, and empty place. "If this is a hospital, where is everyone? And why was I in the morgue? It's not possible to die and come back." You said, logically.

"Yeah right." Sam muttered under his breath. "Listen, I would love to stand here, and prove that I know you, and that you know me. That I mean you no harm. But there are things, people, that do mean me, and in turn you, harm. We need to get going."

It was a big risk, following this man's orders, but something in the back of your mind let you know it would be alright. You saw as he held his hand out, and without thinking you took it. It was warm, and huge, the fingers callused. He must use them everyday in his line of work, you thought to yourself as he pulled you out of the room. 

His long legs ate up the hallway, and you had to jog to keep up with him. As you moved along, you peered down at the dead bodies lining the floor, the overturned wheelchairs, and carts pushed haphazardly everywhere. It was the scene of a battle, with blood splattered all over the once pristine white walls, and you felt like you were going to get sick.

"Sam, what happened?" You asked, as he hurried his steps up. 

"Not now Y/N." He answered, before turning the corner and coming into a chapel. Pushing you inside, he closed the door, locking it, before pulling a bench across the room, pressing it hard up against the door.

You took slow, careful steps back from him, more than a little spooked from the sights you had just witnessed, and the fact that you were now locked into a room with this man, the only one who seemed to still be alive. 

He dusted his hands off, turning to you, frowning as he saw how far you had backed up. "Y/N, woah, it's not what you think." He said, holding his hands up to show you he meant no harm. "Sit, we can talk now."

You nodded, your face hidden in the shadows of the barely lit room. Sitting in one of the benches up front, you tensed when he came closer. Noticing, he took a bench three down from you, his large frame taking up multiple spots. "Talk." You told him.

He took a deep breath. "Listen, what I have to say will probably freak you out more than what you just saw did." He started.

"I don't care. You say you know me, but so far, you haven't proven why. I need something, anything to go on." You pleaded with him.

"Fine. Your Y/N Y/L/N. You have been living with Dean and I, ever since we met you when you had just graduated college. We hunt monsters, things that kill humans, and we've stopped a lot of bad things from happening."

He was right. Listening to him spout crazy talk freaked you out more than the dead bodies laying outside. You stood up, running towards the door, trying to pull the bench out of your way. It was heavy, way heavier than you imagined. Sam must be amazingly strong to have moved it all by himself.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you tried to move the heavy wooden bench, until a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. "Y/N, stop!" Sam's voice said, but you didn't. You thrashed about in his arms, trying to get away. Your only thought was of running away, of leaving this man in the dust, along with this weird and creepy hospital. 

"Y/N! Stop!" He ordered again, his arms tightening around you, and you gave in, knowing there was no way you could muscle your way out of his arms, or this situation. "Please, Y/N, you have to believe me." He begged, his voice going soft.

You went limp in his arms, exhausted beyond belief. He felt the tension drain from your body, but still he held you, making sure it wasn't some sort of trap. "Y/N, can I let you go now?" He asked, but before you could nod yes, he had moved his arms from around your waist, and one was currently brushing the hair back from your neck. He seemed frantic, and scared, and you had no idea why.

"Sam, what is it?" You asked, your fight to leave forgotten. His breathing had gone ragged, his hand tense in your hair.

"How long have you had this?" He asked you, and you glanced out of the corner of your eye, confused.

"How long have I had what?" You asked him.

Sighing, he pulled out a flashlight from his pocket, shining it onto your neck, and you gasped in shock and horror. What had been clear skin fifteen minutes ago was now covered in thick black veins. They traveled up from your chest, heading towards your head.