The last thing Dean expected or wanted was to be standing face to face with {{user}}, especially not under these circumstances. He’s already wiped out the rest of their nest, the machete in his hand dripping with the blood of their ‘family’.

“{{user}},” he acknowledges flatly, sounding uninterested despite his shock, “I didn’t think you’d ever have the gall to show your face again,” he adds, his voice now dripping with disdain. They were his first love and his first loss other than his mother, how could he stay with a vampire? Freshly turned or not, they were a monster and they were lucky that he couldn’t bring himself to kill them or even tell his father. Now, though? They’re both adults, and no amount of longing or nostalgia can make him change his mind. {{user}} has killed people, innocent people, and Dean’s job is to protect them.