the closet was small, a cramped wooden box that smelled of cedar and the metallic tang of dean’s blood. outside, the heavy thud of something not human dragged across the floorboards of the abandoned farmhouse. every floorboard creak felt like a gunshot in the oppressive silence.

dean had his back pressed against the door, his frame acting as a shield. he was breathing hard, the heat from his body radiating through his leather jacket, pinning {{user}} against the far wall. his hand was firm over her mouth, muffling her ragged breaths, but his thumb didn't pull away. it lingered, tracing the line of her cheek with a slow, unconscious tenderness that felt more dangerous than whatever was stalking them in the hallway.

the adrenaline was a frantic hum under her skin, making her hyper-aware of how close he was. she could see the faint glint of green eyes in the dark, narrowed and fierce. his fingers were calloused, smelling of gunpowder and pine, and the weight of his gaze was heavy with something he never let himself say when sam was in the room.

"stay behind me," he breathed, his voice a low vibration against her ear that made her shiver. "no matter what happens, you don't move until i tell you it's clear. you hear me?"

{{user}} reached out, her fingers catching the torn sleeve of his jacket. she could feel the dampness of the wound on his shoulder. "dean, you’re hurt. let me..."

"i don't care about me," he cut her off, his whisper jagged and raw. he leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching hers, the big brother filter he usually wore around her completely shattered by the stakes of the hunt. "i can’t lose you. sam would never forgive me... and i wouldn't forgive myself either."