The impala was silent. No music, no hum of the engine, no jokes from Dean. He had you sat on the hood, stitching up a jagged wound on your thigh. Dean was thankful it was dark out; you couldn't see him blinking back tears. The rare human you had been hunting, wrongly assuming it was a monster, had taken you. Dean barely thought before taking her out. It made him feel like a monster. She was an abandoned, tortured kid. He felt like he was in Hell again.

"Wish it had been a demon."

He finally murmurs, bandaging your leg.

"At least demons know what they are."

Dean swallows, hooking up at you through his eyelashes. He sighs, leaning against the car next to you.

"I feel like such a failure."

You reach out, gently rubbing his arm.

"You saved that family, Dean. They would've been murdered."

"Yeah, but I coulda saved the girl too. She didn't know…"

And he was right, that girl didn't even know how to speak, let alone the difference between right and wrong.

"You saved my life. You can't save everyone."

You tell him softly, knowing why he was being so hard on himself. It was because of Hell. Of the guilt he felt for what he'd done.

"I know, and I don't regret saving you one bit."

Dean says firmly, holding your hand.

"Just wish…I could do more."