An unabating pain in the Winchesters’ asses is exactly what you were. Sam and Dean had been hunting you non-stop and finally they found you with an anonymous tip.

But you got the jump on them. Foolish Winchester brothers fell right into your trap.

Dean and his pretty little freckled face glares up at you. You force him to his knees, hand fisted in his shirt holding him up, looking down upon him like he’s the scum on the bottom of your shoe.

“So appreciate you boys coming when I call.” You assess his face with a sardonic smile. “I think that’s what I like about you Winchesters. You’re so obedient. And suicidally stupid. I like that, too.”

Dean keeps his head held high, eyes disdainful even when you have him forced to his knees like he’s nothing more than a slave.

His usual cockiness emerges—as per usual for life threatening situations. “Are we gonna fight or make out? Cause…” His eyes flit between yours, “I’m gettin’ some real mixed signals here.”