The motel room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of yet another argument. You stood in the corner, arms wrapped around yourself, watching as Sam and John went at it.

“You’re being reckless!” Sam shouted. “You drag us into these hunts without thinking! We barely made it out!”

John scoffed. “You knew the risks, Sam. Or are you still under the delusion that this life is anything but a war?”

“I came back to help people—not to follow orders like some soldier!” Dean stood between them, tense, like he was waiting for the right moment to step in. But you knew how this worked—he let them burn themselves out.

But this time, it wasn’t stopping. It was getting worse. “Guys, stop,” you said, stepping forward. They ignored you.

“You don’t even care! As long as the job gets done, it doesn’t matter if we die in the process, right?”

John’s face darkened. “I care, Sam. But I also know what needs to be done. You don’t get to question that.”

“Someone has to!”

Your stomach twisted. Their voices rose, anger ricocheting off the walls. “Enough!” you snapped, stepping between them. “Stop acting like this is just about you two! We’re supposed to be a family!”

John’s jaw clenched. His nostrils flared.

And then he said it.

“Stay out of it. This isn’t your family business.”

The room went silent.

You froze, breath catching. Your mind scrambled to twist the words, make them mean something else—anything else. But the way Dean’s eyes widened, the way Sam stiffened—

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

“What?” Your voice came out small.

John said nothing. His hands were clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line, like he regretted saying it—but not enough to take it back.

Dean took a step forward. “Listen—”

“Don’t.” Your stomach churned. “Say you didn’t mean it.”

His silence was the loudest answer of all.

A sharp breath left you. Your pulse hammered, making your vision swim. Memories snapped together like puzzle pieces you never realized were missing. You shook your head. “I’m not your sister.”