Sam pulled the Impala to the side of the road. He hadn't driven nearly far enough away from the Leviathan meltdown, but he couldn't breathe, couldn't think – Dean, God, Dean!

Breathe, Sam.

Sam jerked his head up, stared around the empty car. No, no, not again, not again! Cracking up, I'm cracking up!

Sam. Breathe.

This time a shape flickered, insubstantial, in the passenger seat. Very familiar. Much loved. Sam's eyes filled. "Dad?" he faltered.

John Winchester smiled at his youngest. Breathe.

"But Dean," Sam moaned.

You'll get him back. Never doubt that. Stay strong."


That's right, son. Breathe.