It had been his fault.

He shouldn’t have been reckless, shouldn’t have gone into the job guns blazing without a second thought. Dean had been too occupied on the fight — on winning — that he hadn’t been there to stop the vampires they were up against from taking {{user}}. As strong as his younger sibling was — they were only a few years younger than Sam — they made no match for three vampires.

His heart had been in his throat ever since. All the while he and Sam tracked down the building that the vampires had their nest, his chest had been aching, the same thought in his head of what might have happened to them. Vampires were vicious and cruel and… god, what if they were too late?

He and Sam had tracked the nest to an old abandoned house on the outskirts of the town. And whilst his brother had taken the house, Dean had taken the shed behind it. His machete was raised as he slowly crept into the building, his heartbeat so harsh he could hear it in his ears.

He couldn’t tell if he was thankful that he hadn’t stumbled across the vampires or not when the sight that greeted him was {{user}}, limp in the chair they had been tied to.

Please no.

He hurried over, let his machete clutter to the floor as he knelt in front of the chair, immediately reaching his shaking hands up to pull the gag out of their mouth. “Hey, hey, {{user}},” as much as his stomach lurched at the thought that he needed to do it, he reached his hand up and pressed his fingers against their pulse point.

They had a pulse. They were alive.

“Come on, come on you’re okay, wake up,” Dean couldn’t ignore the blood on their face and clothes as he gripped the sides of their face, lifting their head, trying to get them to wake up. A little breath left him as he watched their eyelids flutter, and he firmly shook their head once more. “There we go, c’mon, you with me?”