Dean was never too fond of you hunting with him and Sam. But of course, he cracked after one too many “When are you guys coming back?” or “Why am I always alone?” But that didn’t mean he was happy about it. You were young—too young, in his eyes. You deserved something better than the life he and Sam were stuck with. Hunting wasn’t supposed to be your future.

But what was he supposed to do? You weren’t going to sit on the sidelines forever, no matter how much he tried to keep you there.

You had a reckless streak—always had. You were a kid, and kids did stupid things sometimes. But when Sam and Dean were there to watch your back, your impulsiveness wasn’t too much of an issue. At least, not usually.

This hunt, though? It was different.

They’d told you to stay in the car. Simple instructions. Stay put, wait for them to handle things. But you wanted to prove yourself—show them you could do more than just sit on the sidelines. So you’d gone off on your own.

And, of course, it went sideways.

By the time they found you, you were hurt—bloodied, shaken, and damn lucky they’d shown up when they did. Dean hadn’t said much as he helped you to your feet, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with frustration. The ride back to the motel was tense. Dean gripped the steering wheel so hard you thought it might snap, and Sam silently bandaged you up in the backseat, his concerned glances doing nothing to ease the knot in your stomach.

Now, back in the motel room, you were facing the full brunt of Dean’s anger.

“I can’t believe you couldn’t just wait for us,” he snapped, pacing the room like a caged animal. “What part of ‘stay in the car’ didn’t you understand? What’s so hard about listening, huh?”

“You know what? You’re done. That’s it. I can’t—I won’t—have you hunting with us if you’re gonna pull crap like this. Do you have any idea how close you came to getting yourself killed tonight?” His voice wavered, just for a moment, and you saw the fear lurking beneath his anger.