"I didn't mean it," Dean whispered, holding your battered face in his hands and trying not to start groveling at your feet. He hated the mark, he didn't mean for it to take control of him. It was just supposed to be so he could take down Abbadon, and then he'd give it up. But he'd practically beat you to a pulp after turning into a demon.

He tried cracking a smile and said softly, "Y'know that right? It... that wasn't me, I would never... I would never hurt you." He cleared his throat and pulled more gauze out, dabbing it against your face and trying to sooth you. "The stitches wont hurt too bad, I swear."

Sam had offered to patch you up but Dean had insisted that as long as you'd let him he'd be taking care of you. He wanted to assure himself you weren't afraid of him, that there was no reason for you to be. That everything was okay. "I'm so sorry, baby. I swear I really didn't mean it."