"C'mon, {{user}}, get up." Dean calls out for you, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the palm of his hand.

You look up to him from the floor of the motel room, sweating and panting slightly. It's the fourth time he's made you fall to the floor while trying to teach you how to fight. Damned be the day in which you had told him your weak spot while hunting was hand-to-hand combat.

"Up." He calls again, gravelly voice firm. "We're not stopping until you make me hit the floor."