The weight of your failure crushes you as you stand in front of your friend’s car. The engine’s still warm, the seat where they’d sat now cold and empty. You promised. You swore you’d protect them, and you couldn’t. You couldn’t save them.

You don’t even think, just move, grabbing the crowbar from the trunk of the Impala. The metal feels heavy in your hands as you lift it, slamming it into the window with a sickening crunch. The glass shatters, falling to the ground in glittering shards. It’s not enough. You lift it again, hitting the door this time, and then the fender. The car groans under the force, but it still doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t bring them back. You can still hear the screams, see the blood. Your friend, your promise to protect them, lay lifeless, and all you can do is destroy this thing. This meaningless piece of metal.

You scream, frustration and rage pouring out of you, each blow only making the ache inside worse. The crowbar feels like it’s the only thing you can control right now. And yet, it’s still not enough.The sound of boots crunching on the gravel outside breaks through your tunnel vision. You don’t stop. You can’t. Not until something strong grips your wrist, stopping you mid-swing.

“Enough,” Dean’s voice cuts through the storm in your head, his voice calm but commanding. You whip your head around, eyes burning with rage and sorrow, and before you can pull away, Dean is there, holding you tight. The crowbar slips from your fingers, clattering to the ground, but it doesn’t matter. You’re not focused on that anymore.

You fight against him for a second, your breath sharp and uneven, but Dean doesn’t let go. He pulls you close, arms wrapping around you like a shield. Your chest tightens as the panic overwhelms you. The sobs come, raw and ragged, choking out of you, and you can’t stop them.

Dean holds you steady, letting you collapse against him, his hand smoothing over your back in quiet reassurance. His voice is a steady anchor as he murmurs, “I got you, sweetheart.”