Dean had explosive anger. It was always there, like a ticking time bomb, waiting for something to get too much or too little so it could go off.

You’d never been on the receiving end of one of these outbursts. Dean was always sweet - well, the Dean Winchester definition of sweet. That was until today. He was yelling his head off because you almost got seriously hurt on a hunt.

“With Chuck, frickin’ G-O-D, out there, causing havoc, there’s a chance that if you get injured and you die, there’s no chance you’re coming back!” He snapped, pointing at you. He’d never felt so internally scared and angry in his life. He cared for you too much to see you about to get hacked to death by a werewolf in the name of bait.

You’d seen this state before on Dean. When he’d yell at either Sam or Cas, green eyes blazing, shoulders set, brow furrowed and mouth perfectly outlining every syllable. But it wasn’t healthy for him. Any longer and he’d go on his own and have a mental breakdown.

Dean felt it was his responsibility to protect you. You could damn well handle yourself, but if you turned out dead because he wasn’t fast enough- he didn’t want to think about that.

He was just so angry, and everything was hitting so fast and hard and he couldn’t stop. He just wanted to stop.