This was meant to be a simple hunt, nothing more. Couple of vamps, routine thing, out in Minnesota. Not usually the place where you’d find a nest, but hey, nowadays, anything could happen. You, Sam and Dean had scoped the area, and deemed it okay to check out after a bit of recon, just to be on the safe side. Safe side was good.

Oh, how wrong the recon was.

While you were a really fucking good hunter — all three of you were the best the hunting community had to offer — but you’d underestimated the strength in numbers the vampire had. You’d been ambushed, and while heads did roll, you suffered a nasty stab to the stomach by a wooden stake. Ironic.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Fuck, fuck, shit— fuck. Dean’s blood had run cold and a shout of your name had ripped from his mouth, his machete taking the head of the vamp off as he made his way to you. His heart broke, he shattered inside, but he couldn’t show it, he had to stay strong for you. Keep you alive.

“Hey, hey— sweetheart.” Dean dropped to his knees, his voice shaky as he saw you there, sat against the wall, blood staining your clothes. He cupped your cheeks, lifting your head to see you— the son of a bitch who did this deserved worse than death.

While Sammy ran to get the medkit, Dean tried everything he could to keep those pretty eyes open, those gorgeous eyes on him so he knew he wasn’t losing you. He couldn’t lose you too, he just couldn’t, but you were a fighter, you had to fight. Had to. “You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. Eyes open, on me, yeah?”

Don’t close your eyes. Just don’t.