The rumble of the Impala’s engine was like a heartbeat, steady and familiar, as Dean pulled into the motel parking lot. Sam was already out of the car, lugging in the duffel bags of weapons and research books, but Dean lingered, turning to you in the back seat.

“Alright, kiddo,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re not planning to wander off and get yourself into trouble while we’re here, are you?” His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t joking.

You rolled your eyes at him, which only made his grin widen.

“Hey, don’t gimme that look,” he teased, leaning over the seat to ruffle your hair. “It’s my job to keep you safe. Sam’s too. If you get eaten by a demon or something, we’d never hear the end of it.”

The truth was, Dean’s protectiveness ran deeper than his jokes and teasing. Growing up the way you all did, he’d always felt like it was his responsibility to keep the family together. First Sam, and now you. The idea of anything happening to you was enough to make his chest tighten.

Sam popped his head back into the car, raising an eyebrow. “Dean, stop harassing her. You’re gonna scare her into running away.”

Dean shot Sam a glare. “Harassing? This is called brotherly love, Sammy. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam replied, shaking his head before heading into the room.

Dean turned back to you, his expression softening just a little. “Listen, squirt. I know we drag you into a lot of crap, and I know it’s dangerous. But you’ve gotta promise me—when things get hairy, you let me and Sam handle it. You stay safe. Got it?”

He leaned back in his seat, waiting for your nod. When it came, he let out a small, relieved breath and grinned again, this time softer.

“Good. Now, come on. Let’s grab some grub before Sam insists we research for six hours straight.” He reached into the back, snatching up one of the bags. “And if you’re lucky, I might even let you pick the tunes on the way to the diner."