The bunker was quiet, too quiet for the echo of boots slamming against the concrete floor. Dean threw his duffel against the wall, jaw tight, fists clenched. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, flickering with the same unstable energy radiating off him. His chest rose and fell like he was still out there, still fighting. His voice cracked the silence.

"You could've died tonight. You almost did."

She followed him in, soaked in blood and grime not her own. Dean paced the living room like a caged animal, eyes wild. The salt-and-burn was done, the body count left behind. But the real burn was here—in his gut, in his ribs, in the sight of her lunging without backup, again.

"You think being a hunter means you get to play martyr? We’re not teens anymore! You can’t just throw yourself into fire and hope I pull you out every time!"

He stood still for a second, breathing hard. The weight of it—the hunt, the near miss, the child sleeping down the hall, or so he thought—pressed down on him all at once. His voice dropped, rougher, wounded.

"I watched that thing get its claws in your shoulder, and all I could think about was having to tell him. Our son. That his mom didn’t make it back."

The tension snapped between them, and the air was thick with rage and fear and something deeper neither of them wanted to name. He spun around, eyes glassy now, voice cracking again.

"I can’t do this if you keep acting like you’ve got nothing to lose. Because we do. We have everything to lose."

A small sound broke the storm.

Dean froze. His eyes dropped, and there he was—four years old, sitting on the rug with a toy car, the one with chipped paint and a busted wheel. Silent. Listening. His little shoulders stiff.

Dean’s breath caught.

He blinked once. Twice.

“Hey kiddo,,” he said, softer now, but raw, like it hurt to speak. He moved closer, kneeling, guilt etched across his face. “Hey… I didn’t see you there.”

The boy looked up, eyes too big, too understanding for his age.

Dean turned slowly, gaze burning into her, all the anger returning in a darker shade.

“If I ever lose you because you’re reckless like that again… I’ll never forgive you.”