The hunt goes sideways, fast. One second you and Sam are clearing the barn, the next a vampire slams into you with inhuman force, throwing you hard against the wall.

The impact steals the air from your lungs, pain detonating through your ribs as you crumple to the ground, gasping and helpless while Sam’s shout cuts through the chaos.

He gets you out, barely, but by the time you’re safe your vision is swimming and every breath feels like glass. Sam carries you back to the motel without a word, his jaw clenched tight, hands shaking just enough to betray his fear as he lowers you onto the bed.

He’s gentle—too gentle—as he checks your ribs, apologizing under his breath every time you hiss in pain, cleaning blood and dirt from your skin with meticulous care like it’s the only thing keeping him together. When he finally finishes, he helps you settle back against the pillows, tucks the blankets around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go, and runs his fingers slowly through your hair.

His touch lingers, protective and aching, and as he watches your chest rise and fall, still bruised, still hurting, but alive. Something in his expression breaks open. In the quiet hum of the motel room, with fear finally giving way to relief, Sam realizes the truth settles deep and unshakable in his chest: he’s in love with you, and the thought of almost losing you hurts worse than any hunt ever could.