"-{{user}}!" Dean slammed the door open, his eyes meeting yours, the wood audible against your rattled walls. He stood there for just a moment longer, his chest heaving as he looked at you. The faint sound of your mom and Sam talking downstairs was loud enough for you to catch onto, but so was the fear in Deans voice. The tone, the worry, and the gravity of the situation returning back to you. Dean rushed over to you, dropping to his knees to get to your height before roping you into a hug, making the crayon in your hand fall to the ground. He held you with shaken hands, his words not needed in this moment. You weren't his kid, you weren't his responsibility and yet it felt that way to him. He felt his blood run cold when he was told what could've happened to you-what would've. He clung to you, his own heart thumping in his chest in erratic thumps all while your hands were at your sides.