*I had considered moving this to it's own story, but I didn't want to confuse anybody, so I left it here. There will be one more part after this*

Bushes snagged at your jeans, tugging and pulling at the fabric. Tree branches swung overhead, like arms reaching for your head. The temperature had dropped, and you wished you had brought a heavier jacket.

Shivering, you watched the path, watching as the sun slowly faded past the trees, leaving the area abnormally dark. No birds or little creatures rustled through the bushes. It was quiet, too quiet, and you wanted to turn around.

"You've got this," Dean encouraged you, his voice giving you the confidence you so desperately needed. "We've got to get this witch taken care of."

Sam was a few steps ahead of you, his gun still in his hand as he stared up at the cabin in front of you. It was a small cabin, barely bigger than your hotel room. Smoke drifted through the chimney, a sickly sweet aroma that tickled your nose and made you want to sneeze.

"Hold it," Dean warned. Pressing your finger to your nose, you held the sneeze in. You continued to stare at the cabin, taking in the rotting porch and the dead bushes and trees all around. The windows were boarded over, and there was a rusted truck in the back.

"Exactly what I imagined," You muttered. "Sam, what's our plan?"

Sam pulled you under the cover of the nearest tree, watching the cabin carefully. "She has to know we're coming. I don't think we should go in there guns blazing, but I don't see any other way."

"Y/N," Dean spoke up, and you closed your eyes. His hands were in his pockets, his feet were spread as he stared straight ahead. "We need to split up with Sam. She doesn't know we called him. We can go in guns blazing, distracting her. Sam can sneak his way in, taking her from behind."

You nodded before opening your eyes. Quickly you told Sam the new plan, which he agreed was the best idea. "Be careful," he insisted before heading around the cabin. You watched as he stayed hidden in the shadows, blending from your view before you stepped out into the open. Your heart raced, and your hand was clammy as you held your gun. Taking a deep breath, you strode forward, ready for the witch to throw open the door.

No movement happened at the front door of the cabin, and you carefully climbed the steps. They were well worn, broken through in a couple of spots. With relief, you finally stepped on the porch, only for your foot to sink through the rotted board. Sinking to your knee, you cried out as the wood scraped your leg, scratching you through your jeans.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Dean called out in your mind. Tears stung the corner of your eyes as you struggled to pull your leg free. So caught up in freeing yourself, you hadn't noticed that the door was open until a familiar black kitten wrapped around your free leg, purring.

"We have a visitor," Dean warned, and you slowly peered up to see the witch staring over at you. You had to admit, you were surprised at the appearance of the witch. She wasn't the ugly old woman you had expected. Neither was she beautiful. She had mousy brown hair with gray streaked through. It was pulled back in a simple braid. She was plump, her maroon dress straining at the chest and hips. Her face was unlined and makeup free, her gray eyes watching you closely.

"I thought you would have been dead by now," she stated, her words tinged with a Swedish accent. "No one has survived this strength of spell before."

"Well we aren't your typical victims," you muttered, finally freeing your leg. The blue denim was already tinged with blood, your leg pounding with pain.

She shook her head, leaning down to pick up her kitten. "No, I expect not. After all, everyone has heard of Dean Winchester, the famous hunter and his girlfriend Y/N."

"Damn straight," Dean exclaimed in your head. "And we're going to gank her ass."

You wished you had Dean's confidence because right now, with your leg throbbing and the witch in front of you, you were shivering with fear. "Can you fix this?" You asked her, your voice wavering.

"Of course my dear. But why would I?" She cackled, and with a clap of her hands and some muttered words, she had you following her into her cabin. Unable to fight her spell, you let her place your body in the small, one room cabin, near the fire roaring in the stove. "You see, I like having Dean out of my hair. Sooner or later the spell will work, and your body will no longer be able to function while having two souls, two minds thrown together. You'll go crazy, and end up killing yourself, or you'll just have a heart attack and die. And I'm perfectly happy with that."

"Y/N, I won't let that happen," Dean promised you. And while you enjoyed the comfort it gave you, you had no idea how he could have any control when he was trapped in your mind. Dean sighed, and you felt pain in your head. Closing your eyes, you could see Dean slumped over, his hands on his knees as he took deep, steadying breaths. "Dean?" You called out. He straightened, but you could see how frustrated he was. He was beating himself up mentally, and that was the pain you felt.

"Y/N, I've failed you. I've failed us all," Dean choked out, his jade eyes rimmed in red. "I'm stuck here, useless."

"Dean, I can't have you do this. Not now," you insisted. "I need your strength, or I'm not going to be able to face her. Please."

Nodding sharply, Dean ran a hand through his hair, squaring his shoulders before offering you a half hearted smile. "I can give you all the strength I can muster. Because I need you to survive this Y/N. And then...we can talk about those thoughts running through your mind. Thoughts that opened my mind as well."

Your eyes snapped open when the witch slapped your cheek, but it wasn't the stinging that had your heart racing. It was the thought of Dean finding out how you felt, and maybe...just maybe returning those feelings as well.