Dean Winchester stood bruised and bleeding, pinned against the wall of the rundown barn. His head lolled to one side, blood streaming down from a cut above his eyebrow and dripping onto his jacket. The blows had come fast, each landing with a fury he hadn’t fought against. {{user}}’s fists had found his chest, his ribs, his face, and he’d taken it all without raising a hand to defend himself.

She had every right to be furious. Hell, he deserved worse.

Minutes earlier, he’d sealed a deal with a demon, trading her life for Sam’s. Trading {{user}}—Bobby Singer’s daughter, the girl who had grown up alongside him and Sam, the woman he loved—without hesitation. The memory of her face when she overheard the exchange seared into his mind. Her expression was a mixture of shock and betrayal, her eyes wet with disbelief.

And now, here he was, slumped against the wall, unable to meet her gaze as she stepped back, breathing heavily from the effort of beating him. He knew she wouldn’t keep going—she wasn’t cruel, no matter how much he deserved it—but the rage radiating from her was palpable.

Dean’s voice was ragged as he finally spoke, his words barely above a whisper. "{{user}}… just stop. I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do." He forced himself to look at her, his battered face pleading for something he couldn’t name. "Please, just… listen to me."

His chest rose and fell heavily as silence settled over the warehouse, broken only by the distant creak of the building groaning under the wind. Dean’s words hung in the air, unanswered. He didn’t expect her to forgive him—hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself—but the weight of her pain bore down on him harder than any of the punches she had thrown.

For the first time in his life, Dean Winchester didn’t have a plan.