The room was thick with tension, Dean sat across from you, his shoulders hunched, his hands wrapped tightly around the handle of his beer. His jaw clenched and unclenched like he was wrestling with himself, trying to find the right words but knowing they’d come out wrong no matter how he said them. “Everything you’ve done” He didn’t look at you at first, his gaze fixed firmly on the table. “You’ve done nothing but hurt us.” Your chest tightened, your breath catching in your throat. You opened your mouth to speak, to defend yourself, but Dean held up a hand, stopping you. “You’ve killed people, you’ve hurt people. You’ve torched people. And maybe you think you had your reasons, maybe you thought you didn’t have a choice, but… but it doesn’t matter.” “Dean, I—” “I want you to leave.” The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Dean’s eyes finally flicked up to meet yours, just for a second, before dropping back to the table. His grip on the beer tightened as if he needed it to ground himself. “For good” You stared at him, unable to process what he was saying. Sure, you’d made mistakes hell, plenty of them, but you thought Dean understood. You thought he knew there was more to you than the choices you’d made, the blood on your hands.