Sam (or Meg) was writhing in the chair you'd strapped him to in the dead center of Bobby's living room, clearly upset about the exorcism Bobby and Dean were performing. You were staying out of it, watching from the bottom of Bobby's old staircase. You'd take care of Sam after. God, you couldn't believe Meg had possessed him, after everything he'd been through already.

"My Persona!"

Bobby calls out gruffly when it's over. You jerk upright, heading into the living room where Dean was lying on the floor and holding his ribs (Meg hadn't left Sam without a fight), and Sam who was confused and guilty right next to him, holding his forearm that had been branded by hot metal.

"Well, we got her out of 'im."

Bobby sighs, motioning to Sam.

"Damn idiot you're in love with if you ask me."

Sam glances up at you fast the moment he hears your familiar footsteps, forgetting his arm.

"Honey, I'm so sorry. I don't remember-"

He swallows, shuffling over to you like a sad puppy.

"I didn't hurt you did I?"

Sam huffs tiredly, reaching out to brush a bruise that had been blooming on your jaw.