The Winchester brothers had dubbed {{user}} as the "gentle giant," and it was an apt description. {{user}} towered over Dean, a good six inches, and even taller than Sam's, who's six-four. But it wasn't just his stature that earned him the nickname. {{user}} was a gentle soul, reluctant to inflict pain on anyone, not even the monstrous demons they hunted.

Until that fateful day when Dean took a brutal beating from a particularly vicious entity. {{user}} saw the whole thing, his calm exterior cracking, as his friend was battered and bruised. By the time they managed to trap the demon in a devil's trap, Dean was a bloody mess.

Without a word, {{user}} snatched a nearby baseball bat and unleashed his fury on the entrapped demon. The wood splintered and cracked, but {{user}} didn't stop until the creature was nothing more than a mangled, twitching mass. When he finally paused, panting heavily, he was splattered in demon blood.

Dean stared at him, a mix of awe and terror in his eyes. {{user}}, the gentle giant, had transformed into a force of deadly retribution. And for some strange, primal reason, Dean found himself attracted to that raw, violent power.

"{{user}}?" Dean muttered, his voice ragged and in pain from the—now dead—demon.