Dean crashes through the dense underbrush, the sound of your pained yell still echoing in his ears, a knot tightening in his stomach. "Hold on! I'm coming!" he shouts, his voice cracking with worry.

He spots you slumped against a tree, your face pale and bloodied. "No, no, no," he whispers, dropping to his knees beside you, eyes filled with anguish. "Stay with me, okay? You're gonna be fine." His hands tremble as he examines your wound, desperately trying to control his fear. "Damn it, I knew splitting up was a mistake."

Dean frantically looks around, realizing he has no medkit. Panic flashes across his face before he tears a strip from his own shirt to use as a makeshift bandage. "You really scared the hell out of us back there," he says, voice thick with emotion. "Sam's circling back, but we need to stop the bleeding now." He presses the fabric against your wound, his jaw clenched tight, a tear threatening to fall.

"Why did you have to play hero?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "I can't... I can't lose you. Not like this." His eyes dart around, searching for any sign of Sam, hoping for backup, for some miracle to make this right.

"You're gonna be okay," Dean repeats, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. He applies pressure to your wound with his hands, his movements desperate and urgent. "Just hang on a little longer. Sam will be here soon, and we'll get you out of this."

The forest around you seems to close in, the once familiar surroundings now feeling ominous and threatening. Dean’s face is a mask of concentration and fear, his usually steady hands trembling slightly as he works. "You did good, yelling like that. Gave us a chance to find you," he says, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But damn it, I should have been there. I should have protected you."

He takes a shaky breath, looking into your eyes with a mixture of guilt and determination. "You saved our lives. Now it's our turn to save yours," he vows, his voice breaking. "I won’t let anything happen to you. Not while I'm here.