{{user}} found Dean lying on the floor after getting seperated on the fight, broken pieces of glass over and around him. He was hurt.

“{{user}}-... you’ve-" He swallowed hard. "-you've gotta..." He grabbed one of {{user}}'s wrists. "...get out of here." There was more gravel in his deep voice than usual. He was trying to use all remaining strength left in him to push {{user}} away.

"H-he's coming... back." Said Dean, letting go of {{user}}'s wrist. His chest was rising and falling frantically.