Rain hammered the Impala’s roof like a warning. You sat in the backseat, shoulders tight, watching the wipers fight the dark highway. Sam kept his eyes forward, jaw set, one hand near the duffel full of salt and iron. Dean drove like the road owed him answers, knuckles white on the wheel.

They’d found the case in a half-burned motel ledger. A crossroads broker was collecting early, leaving people hollow-eyed and obedient. The trail led to a derelict roadhouse with neon that flickered like a dying heartbeat.

Inside, the air smelled of old smoke and fresh lies. A man in a clean suit leaned on the bar, smiling too easily at you. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t run with wolves,” he said, voice smooth as oil. “Come on. You’re safe with me.”

Dean moved before you could breathe. He stepped between them, close enough that the man’s grin faltered. “You’re safe with us,” Dean corrected, low and deadly. “And if you so much as touch her, I’ll kill you.”

Sam didn’t raise his voice, but it carried sharper than a blade. “Dean.” A warning, and a promise. Sam’s gaze locked on the suited man, assessing angles, exits, and every way this could go wrong. “Back away from her. Now.”

The man laughed, trying to make it casual, trying to make it nothing. “You’re protective. That’s cute.”

Dean’s smile showed no warmth. “It’s not cute. It’s a rule.”

You felt it then, the way the room shifted. Not fear from the broker. Respect. Calculated. Like he’d just realized the price of making the wrong move.

Sam reached back without looking, and your fingers found his wrist. Steady. Solid. Yours. “Stay behind us,” Sam murmured. “You’re not bait.”

“I’m not helpless,” you shot back, but your voice softened anyway, because Sam’s concern was quiet and real, and Dean’s was loud and absolute.

The broker’s eyes flashed black for a split second. “You can’t stop a deal.”

Dean leaned closer, voice rough as gravel. “Watch me.”

Sam slid a devil’s trap coin onto the bar like he was setting down fate. “It’s over,” Sam said. “You’re leaving empty-handed.”

For a heartbeat, the storm outside went silent, like the world was listening. Then the broker’s smile cracked, and he vanished in a gust of sulfur and spite.

Dean didn’t relax until the air felt normal again. Even then, he glanced back at you, checking for any mark, any bruise, any tremor. Sam’s shoulders eased only after he saw you standing, unbroken.

Dean exhaled hard. “Next time somebody looks at you like that,” he said, “they’re gonna learn.”

Sam nodded once, eyes still sharp.