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You pushed back your hair, before glancing over at Dean. He was behind the wheel of the Impala, driving the four of you out to Willowbrook, a middle of nowhere, barely on the map town. There had been reports about something causing people to disappear, and then show up, weeks later, with no memory of themselves, or their family and friends.

"Sam, have you been able to find anything on what might be causing these people to lose their memories?" You inquired, looking back at him.

"Nothing," Sam replied, his expression one of frustration.

"Cas, have you ever heard of something like this?" You asked.

"I haven't, (Y/N)," Castiel replied.

“Okay,” You murmured, biting your lower lip. The only sound in the car was the classic rock that Dean was playing, and you drifted off to sleep, knowing that opportunities to get a decent amount of sleep would be few and far between. You woke when the car pulled to a stop, and Dean placed a hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/N), we’re here,” Dean quietly said.

“Thanks, Dean,” You murmured, getting out of the car and stretching. You followed them towards the motel rooms, looking around after Dean pushed open the door. The next few days were spent with all of you searching through different books, going through the internet and trying to find lore, or something about whatever was attacking people. Halfway through reading another book that gave no answers, you slammed it shut, sighing in frustration.

“There’s nothing,” You said, leaning back in your chair.

“I know,” Sam replied, shutting the book he was reading.

“So, what do we do? We have no idea what we’re doing, we have no information, and no idea how to help anyone!” You said, pushing the book away from you.

“We take a break and go get some food,” Sam said, beginning to push his chair back.

“You stay. I want to take a walk. Do you think I should get something for Dean and Cas, for when they get back from questioning people? Anything specific you want?” You inquired, grabbing your phone.

“They’ll probably get something while they’re out. I’d like a salad, and a water, please,” Sam said, reaching for his wallet. He handed you a twenty, and you stuffed it in your pocket, before walking out of the room. The sun had just begun to set as you walked out the door, and you began to walk to the nearest diner. You stepped inside, and up to the counter. You ordered your and Sam’s food to go, and began the walk back to the motel. The sun had fully set in the time it took for you to order; you found yourself trying to keep close to the street lights. You heard a thump behind you, and turned, squinting into the darkness.

“Is anyone there?” You called, only to be met with silence. You continued on, until you heard another noise. You reached into the holster that was attached to your ankle, and drew your gun, aiming into the darkness behind you.

----

You stirred, the back of your head throbbing. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking at your surroundings, which gradually grew clearer.

“Is anyone there?” You quietly called. The only sound was silence, and you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Your hands were unbound, which surprised you. You reached into your pocket, and pulled out your cell phone. You quickly found Dean’s name, and pressed it.

"Dean," You whispered, when he answered.

“(Y/N). Where are you? Are you okay?” Dean hastily asked.

“I’m okay. I don’t know where I am,” You quietly replied. “There’s some exposed pipes, and it smells like rust.”

“We’re going to find you, (Y/N),” Dean said.

“That would be nice,” You joked, trying to make Dean laugh. You grew silent as you heard a door open, and bit your lower lip. “There’s someone here.”

“Don’t hang up, please, (Y/N),” Dean said.

“Okay,” You replied, sliding your phone into your pocket. You looked around as the sound of footsteps grew closer, and, eventually, someone stepped into the small pool of light around you. You gasped as they stepped into view, your eyes widening in surprise. “Who-who are you?”

“I’m Aleksander,” He said, his voice low.

“What do you want from me?” You inquired.

“I need your memories,” He replied.

“Why? What good will they do you?” You asked.

“They help us,” He said.

“Help you how?” You inquired.

“They help to keep us alive. You eat food to survive, we use memories,” He replied.

“Where am I?” You murmured.

“Outside of the city,” He said. “Somewhere that others won’t find you.”

“You’re not going to get my memories. There are people who are coming for me,” You replied, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice.

“We’ll see about that,” He replied, before leaving. You reached into your pocket, pulling your phone out and holding it up to your ear.

“Dean? Are you still there?” You inquired.

“I’m here,” Dean replied.

“Did you hear all that?” You asked.

"I did,” Dean murmured.

“I don’t know where I am, Dean,” You whispered.

“(Y/N),” Dean quietly said. “You're going to be okay."

"I don't know if that's true, Dean," You murmured.

"I know it is. We're going to get you." Dean said. He waited for your response, cursing when the phone beeped that the call had ended. He pushed his foot down on the gas pedal, speeding up. When Dean and Sam found you, you were slumped in a chair, unconscious. Dean carefully picked you up, and rushed you to the nearest hospital. He sat in the hard chairs of the waiting room, restless, his eyes dry from lack of sleep. After what felt like years of waiting, the doctor came out and told them that you were awake. The two of them stepped into your room, their bodies taut. You looked up at them, biting your lower lip.

"Who are you?" You quietly asked, looking up at the three men standing next to your bed. Your gaze moved to the shorter one, as he sucked in a breath, his expression one of grief and anguish.

"I'm Sam," One said, stepping forward. "Sam Winchester."

"I'm," You paused, your brow furrowing in confusion. You knew that you should know, but you couldn't remember your name. "I don't know my name. Why don't I know my name?"

"You're (Y/N)," Dean whispered, stepping closer.

"(Y/N)," You repeated, before frowning. "How do you know my name?"

"We're your friends," Dean replied. "I'm Dean Winchester."

“I’m Castiel,” The trench coat wearing one replied. “But you sometimes call me Cas,”

"How do I know you?" You inquired.

"We met a few years ago," Sam answered, glancing over at Dean. "We were on a job when we met you, and afterwards, you came with us. We all share a place."

“We share a place?” You murmured, your brow furrowing in confusion.

“We do,” Dean said.

“Dean, Sam-what happened to me?” You inquired. “Why am I here?”

“There was an accident. You hit your head pretty hard,” Sam said.

“Did the doctor say when I could leave?” You asked.

“Soon,” Sam murmured, looking over at Dean.

“Will we be going home?” You inquired.

“If you want to, we will,” Dean replied.

“I would like that,” You murmured. “I don’t remember you, but I feel like I can trust you.” The doctor came, explaining you that your memory might come back, and then released you. The three of you walked out of the hospital, and got into the Impala. You watched as Dean drove, glancing back at Sam and Castiel every so often. Your eyes widened in surprise as the car pulled up to the Bunker, and Dean pulled into the garage.

“We call it the Bunker,” Dean explained, catching your shocked look.

“Is it….is it a survival place?” You inquired.

“In a way,” Sam replied. “But not from the usual things.”

“Okay,” You murmured, following them out of the car. You stepped inside, your eyes widening even more as you looked over the interior.

“I’ll show you your room, if you want,” Dean said.

“Thank you,” You said, following him down the hall. He pushed open the door, and you stepped through.

“I’ll give you some time,” Dean replied, stepping back.

“Dean….thank you,” You quietly said.

“Any time, (Y/N),” Dean murmured, before walking away.

You walked around the room, looking at all the different things and wondering about them-especially the large collection of knives. You found a photo album, and picked it up. You started to look through it, through the photographs of you, Sam, Dean, Castiel, and a few people you didn’t know. There was a young woman with sandy blonde hair, and another woman who was clearly her mother. There was a bearded man, who was looking at you with a smile on his face. When there was a knock on your doorframe, and you looked up from the photographs that showed you, Dean, Sam, and Castiel.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Dean quietly asked.

“I’m….who are these people?” You inquired, holding up the book.

“Scoot over,” Dean murmured, walking over. You did, and he took a seat next to you.

“This is Jo, and the woman next to her is Ellen,” Dean said, pointing. “This is Bobby.”

“Where are they? Why don’t they live with us?” You inquired.

“They’re…..they’re gone,” Dean quietly said, his voice hoarse.

“No,” You whispered.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Dean murmured. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” You whispered. “I’m sorry I don’t remember them. I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m sorry I didn’t get to you soon enough,” Dean whispered.

“You found me. That’s enough,” You replied.

“(Y/N)….” Dean whispered.

“Yeah?” You inquired.

“I’m going to try and help you remember,” Dean replied.

“What if I can’t?” You asked.

“I believe that you will,” Dean said. The two of you worked for months to help you remember, with little progress. After an especially frustrating session, Dean stood, pacing back and forth. He stepped out of your room, stalking down the hall towards his room, slamming the door behind him. You took a deep breath, and leaned against your pillows. You stood, walking towards the kitchen, and began to assemble the ingredients to make a pie. When you finished it, you cut a slice and set it on the table.

“Do I smell pie?” Dean said, startling you.

“You do. I made you one,” You quietly said, gesturing towards it. “I wanted to apologize for not being able to remember.”

“There’s no need to apologize for that,” Dean murmured.

“Please, just eat,” You quietly said.

“Okay,” Dean replied, taking a seat across from you. You watched him for a moment, trying to remember something, anything. He paused, looking up at you.

“Is everything okay?” Dean inquired.

"Please….please don't give up on me, Dean." You whispered.

"I won't give up on you, sweetheart. Ever." Dean said, standing and wrapping his arms around you. You leaned your head against his shoulder, comforted.