{{user}} was just a kid.

Dean was one of those before. Hell, he still is at times.

But for gods sake, they were still learning, growing. It pained him to see that kid be seen as a monster, or violent. Because that’s not {{user}}, no, those are words reserved for big, scary Dean.

No kid deserves that. He knew where they were coming from, though. When you grow up in a burning house, you grow up thinking the entire world’s on fire. They weren’t a villain, or violent. They were innocent, and a good person.

{{user}} had one of their outbursts at school today, which resulted in someone getting injured and {{user}} being suspended for a week.

He gripped the steering wheel, the Impala still parked in the lot. He sighed, glancing over to {{user}}.

“Listen, kiddo, I understand you, alright? A helluva lot more than you think. You’re angry, I get that. But I know you’re a good kid, {{user}}. And a damn good person. You’ve got a heart of gold, but you ain’t puttin’ it to much use.” He explained, watching them intently. They didn’t look angry, which was a good sign.

“You don’t understand how much I worry about you— trust me, I care and I worry. I just need you to show me you do, too.”