ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ - ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

Pilot

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The gun was cold in her hands, heavier than she remembered. Genesis stood at the edge of a clearing—empty, vast, like the world had been swallowed whole by silence. Only her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," Dean's voice drifted over her shoulder, but it was wrong. Too smooth, too distant. He wasn't standing beside her; he was somewhere in the shadows, watching. Always watching.

She raised the gun, her fingers trembling. The target was just a blur of red and white down the range, shifting like something alive. Her breath caught. She knew how to shoot—he'd taught her, hadn't he?

"Just pull the trigger, it's easy." His voice again, laced with something... darker. A hiss in the silence.

Genesis hesitated. She could feel Dean's presence, but it wasn't comforting like it used to be. Instead, it sent a shiver down her spine. The way he had looked at her when they were younger, that same charm, that same smirk—just like the serpent in the garden.

"Come on, Genesis." His voice was in her ear now, whispering, urging. "It's not so hard. Don't you want to be strong? To survive?"

The gun felt heavier in her hands. Too heavy. She couldn't aim. Her finger twitched on the trigger.

"Pull," Dean's voice demanded, almost venomous now, and before she could stop herself, her hand jerked, the sound of the shot echoing through the air.

The clearing shifted. The target... it wasn't a target anymore. It was her reflection. A mirror shattered from the impact, cracks spider-webbing across the glass as her own face stared back, eyes wide with fear.

And behind her reflection, in the glass, Dean smiled an evil smile.

Genesis jolted awake, heart pounding as though she'd just run miles. The suffocating quiet of her apartment settled around her, a stark contrast to the gunshots still echoing in her ears. Her hand instinctively reached out, brushing over the cool sheet beside her, but she was alone.

The nightmare clung to her, thick like fog—Dean's voice urging her to shoot, the weight of the gun in her trembling hands. Even now, the guilt lingered. She wasn't the same girl anymore. She had grown, changed. But why did it still feel like she was back there? In that field. With him.

She forced herself to sit up, drawing in a shaky breath as she wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. That nightmare... Why now? It had been years since she'd even thought about that night. About him.

Genesis pulled the blankets off, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed as the knot in her chest tightened. Her phone sat on the nightstand, glowing faintly in the dark. She reached for it, needing a distraction. Something to pull her out of her head. She unlocked the screen, and her brows furrowed.

Three missed calls.

Her heart skipped a beat. Two from her father, which didn't faze her. But one name stuck out, freezing her in place.

Dean Winchester.

Her throat tightened, fingers hovering over the screen. They hadn't spoken in two years, not since their last fight, not since she walked away from that life. Why the hell would he be calling now? She felt her stomach twist as her mind raced—was he in trouble? Or worse, had something happened to Sam?

A sharp chill crept up her spine, the nightmare resurfacing in flashes. Dean, standing behind her, voice low and coaxing her to pull the trigger. He'd always been like that—pushing her to do the impossible, to step over the line. Like the damn serpent in Eden, twisting the truth.