Nothing can compare to the horror Dean felt when you got out of the car.

Balancing regular old school life and the hunting life chosen for him by his father—was a challenge. He finally had time to spend with you, his normal friend, from his normal school, with a normal life. Everything he never had.

Then John called. Wendigo in the forest round the back of the motel. Take care of it.

Dean knew he had to. He very mysteriously urged you to stay in the car, he assured you he would be back in ten, fifteen minutes and then you two could go hang out as planned.

All you had to do was stay.

When he took twenty minutes—you opened the door, poking your head out…then getting out of the car…then walking in the direction he went in…then standing frozen in horror when you saw the monstrosity he was fighting off.

“{{user}} no—!” Dean shouted and did his best to fend the beast off, keep it focused on him rather than you—the newcomer. Dean got a couple good slashes in—but now the Wendigo was slowly turning to face you.

Dean springs into action a moment too late, he watches as you stand there petrified with zero means of defense—the Wendigo gets a gnarly slash on your upper arm before Dean can lunge forward with his silver blade and impale the beast’s heart from behind.

He sees the red blooming on your arm.

“Son of a bitch.” He whispers and shoves the big Wendigo to the side, rushing to you. “I told you to stay in the car.” He says—trying to scold you. Right now he’s only thinking, I can never forgive myself for this.