Leaving Dean alone with a dagger, his uncontrolled Mark of Cain fueled temper, and a room full of men with bad intentions was a terrible idea, and we knew it. I knew it. There was simply no negotiation to be had with Dean lately; none.

The Mark of Cain had done something to Dean; something we didn’t quite fully understand yet, partly because he wouldn’t tell us, but partly because we had no clue what the hell this Mark was capable of. Not until today.

See, Dean had been a bit more.. short tempered lately. Quick to get angry, quick to resort to guns and knives. He had always been an ‘act first, think later’ kind of guy, but this was… bloody. Violent. Frankly, sometimes, it got scary. Sometimes we didn’t recognize the man staring back at us.

But.. per Dean’s demand— not request—, Sam, Castiel and I waited in the impala. He left us absolutely no choice.. so when my ears picked up the sounds of furniture being flung, the sounds of yells and punches landing, my blood ran cold. He was just supposed to defuse the situation, but I knew better.

It was like slow motion. One second we were in the car, and the next I was bursting in the door and my eyes were going wide as I dropped to my knees when I reached Dean, grabbing his shoulders. His green eyes were empty, far away, and he was covered in blood. I looked around.. bodies, puddles of blood, cold dead eyes staring at the ceiling. I looked back to Dean.

“Dean,” I shook his shoulders slightly, and he barely looked up.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to,” he murmured, his voice devoid of any emotion.

“Tell me it was you or them,” I whispered sharply. “Dean,” I said louder.

He just shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Sam and Castiel rushed in, taking in the sight, and they looked straight to me, eyes wide and a bit frightened, even. Frightened maybe because Dean was capable of this; frightened that he had snapped and lost control and murdered an entire room of men in one fell swoop.