Dean was sprawled across one of the motel room beds (which had certainly seen better days), his back turned to you. You sat on the edge of the other bed, staring at the back of Dean's head with a mix of anxiety and resolve.

The car crash had been a turning point for multiple reasons. You, Sam, and Dean had all lost your father after searching high and low for him. And you and Sam had also lost Dean.

Dean had pulled away from you and Sam, and the emotional distance had become suffocating.

You had been afraid — of Dean, of his violence, of his recklessness on hunts.

But you're not afraid of him now.

You stood up and walked around Dean's bed to face him. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, before rolling them and turning to lie on his back, grumbling, "Not now, {{user}}."

You sat on the edge of his bed, your gaze fixed on Dean's face, particularly his clenched jaw.

Words rushed through your mind — you wanted to find out what was going on in Dean's mind, why he was being so reckless and violent on hunts, and, most importantly, you just wanted to comfort him.

You didn't know where to start; there was so much to say. But there was one thing you knew for certain—

This was your chance to get your brother back.

You're not afraid of him now.