It's hard to tell where it came from, that aggressive, bordering on possessive protectiveness— and maybe it's a part of the way your parents trained you, those deep ingrained instincts you've never been able to let go of; the anger issues, the violence, all in the name of the ones you love, even if you can be reigned in tightly just as quick.

And it is— almost embarrassing, almost shameful in a way.

Even though it doesn't matter in the moment; because a demon lunges at Sam with a knife, ready to plunge it into his stomach— but you're quicker, you always are, grabbing the monster by the hair and tossing it into the nearest wall, bracing your forearm against its throat, your eyes blazing and jaw tight as you prepare your own knife and grip it tightly, because how dare it try to hurt Sam, to hurt your family—

But it only takes Dean sharply calling out your name for you to let go, though the grip on the knife doesn't falter.

And the demon only grins mockingly.

“Aren't you just so obedient?” It purrs mockingly, head tilted to the side slightly. “The Winchesters’ own, personal guard dog."