He said yes.

He thought he was strong enough.

Now he's grasping for missing pieces, important things he can't remember.

Something happened to him.

He's falling.

And he wakes up to Dean's hand on his forehead, worried creases around his eyes, and Dean pleads with him not to scratch. But there are flashes of things, a growing sense of wrongness. A gnawing unease he can't shake that hints at everything he doesn't know.

He finds notes in his pockets that he never wrote, shirts he doesn't remember buying.

He can't stand not knowing. He dreads finding out.