It lay, thick, white and pristine - dampening all sound – glistening so brightly, it banished the darkness.

So deep he couldn't see the Impala. So dense he couldn't move.

He looked up and the sky was swirling white too.

Snow.

Everywhere.

He called out for Sam and a stranger appeared – dressed all in white - and the stranger looked like Sam.

"Hello Dean." the stranger said, and smiled.

"You're not my brother!" he shouted. And the snow engulfed him because he'd never ask the stranger for help.

"Dean! Wake up!"

He woke.

And Sam was there – frowning – and dressed in black.