Dean grit his teeth as he stared at {{user}} across the dungeon in the bunker, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. It hurt to see them like that, a demon. They were so far gone from their usual self, and he didn’t fucking know what to do.

He had been pissed ever since they had taken the Mark of Cain instead of him — it was supposed to be his job, he was supposed to be in the firing line for that one. He and Sam had known {{user}} since they were kids, they were Bobby’s kid, so they had always looked out for each other. Even more so since Bobby had died. But now they had the fucking mark, and it had turned them into a demon.

For their own safety and everybody else’s, Dean had them in the dungeon in the bunker with every precaution they had so they wouldn’t escape — devil’s trap cuffs around their wrists, the chair they were tied to inside of an actual devil’s trap. They weren’t going anywhere.

“We’re going to fix this, alright?” His voice came out rough as he stared down at them. The guilt was eating him alive, it should’ve been him. “I’m going to fix this.”