Sam and Dean would quite literally take a bullet for you. Obviously, you'd do the same for them. But, as their little sibling, your brothers would never let you do anything remotely close to that. You were four years younger than Sam, and eight years younger than Dean. They'd keep you safe no matter the consequences.

The three of you on hunts was always dangerous. A Wendigo hunt was even more dangerous, but the three of you knew how to handle it. You and Sam went to help the victims to safety, the Wendigo somehow still inside the cave. After a long protest with Sam, you went back inside the cave, searching for Dean, who you thought had gotten lost. He was already searching for you.

Goddamn it, this wasn't going to end well.

After what felt like forever, after having been knocked out and tied to... something... Dean found you. You had a good couple of scratches around your neck and arms, and one awful gash on your abdomen, the blood seeping through your shirt. You were bleeding out, your brothers' worst fears. Dean knelt down to your level, scanning your body up and down, immediately finding the gash on your abdomen. Crap, crap, crap.

"Jesus... we gotta get you to the car. Can you stand?” Dean muttered, voice thick with emotion. He offered his hand out to you so he could take you back to the Impala to patch you up.