The two of you had been tracking a shapeshifter for weeks. Every lead had been a dead end—literally. Bodies left behind, innocent people caught in its chaos, and you and Dean were burning through towns trying to catch up. Finally, after staking out a dingy warehouse on the edge of nowhere, you’d cornered the bastard. Now, tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, the shifter was all yours.

Dean leaned against a nearby table, his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched you pace. You’d been partners for years now, best friends through thick and thin, and he knew better than to get in your way when you were in this kind of mood.

“So,” Dean started, his voice dripping with mock cheerfulness as he twirled his knife lazily, “you’ve been making one hell of a mess, huh? Bodies piling up, cops scratching their heads... You're really a pain in the ass, you know that?”

The shifter sneered but didn’t answer, its eyes darting nervously between the two of you. Dean chuckled, stepping back. “Alright, tough guy. I’ll let my partner here handle this. They’re better at... persuading people.”

Dean gestured toward the monster with an exaggerated flourish, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “All yours, hotshot.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Stepping forward, you cracked your knuckles for effect, leaning down so you were at eye level with the creature. “You know what I don’t like?” you asked, your voice low and menacing. “Liars. And you? You’re one hell of a liar.”

The shifter laughed weakly. “You think I’m scared of you? Please. I’ve been through worse.”

“Oh, you will be,” you shot back, your tone icy. Without warning, you delivered a sharp punch to its jaw, sending its head snapping to the side. It groaned, blood trickling from the corner of its mouth.

Dean let out a low whistle from the sidelines. “Damn, remind me never to piss you off,” he muttered under his breath, though you could see the proud glint in his eyes.