It had been a rough few weeks since John had left on another one of his long hunts, leaving Dean in charge of Sam and you. As usual, John had laid down strict rules before heading out, telling Dean to keep an eye on you both and making it clear that there would be hell to pay if anything went wrong.

Dean was used to the responsibility. He’d been looking after Sam and you for as long as he could remember, stepping into the role of caretaker even when he was just a kid himself. But this time, something felt different. You’d been restless lately, more rebellious than usual, pushing boundaries in a way that had Dean on edge. He didn’t blame you—you were young, tired of the constant moving and the life John had forced on all of you—but that didn’t make his job any easier.

Tonight was supposed to be like any other night. Dean had put Sam to bed and checked in on you, thinking everything was under control. But when he went back to check on you again... you were gone. The window was open, and the cold night air was seeping into the room.

Panic set in immediately. Dean grabbed his jacket, muttering curses under his breath, his mind racing with all the things that could go wrong. You weren’t supposed to be out there, not alone, not at night, not when John was gone. Dean knew that if he didn’t find you before his dad got back, the punishment would be swift and harsh—not just for you, but for him, too.

He searched the streets, heart pounding in his chest, calling your name, his voice growing more frantic with each passing minute. Memories of John’s stern face flashed through his mind, his dad’s disappointment when things didn’t go right, the weight of responsibility always crushing him. He couldn’t let anything happen to you.

Finally, Dean caught sight of you, sitting on a park bench, hoodie pulled up, your face hidden in the shadows. Relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by anger and fear as he marched toward you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean growled, his voice shaking with emotion.