“What were you thinking?” Dean shouted, his hands pressed onto the table as he stared at you. It felt as if he was staring into your soul. Anger was radiating off him and tension swirled in the air. Sam could feel it so he left the room to study up on the case — Castiel can feel it so he poofed out — and hell, you could feel it most, given that it’s directed at you. You almost wanted to laugh at how Dean was acting as an overprotective mother, but kept it to yourself. You knew Dean and Sam saw you as a younger sibling, not by blood but by faith.

“Sorry,” You muttered with a sigh and Dean's brows shot up. “Sorry?” He parroted back, fingers curling into the wood. “That’s all you have to say? That you’re sorry?” He hissed out, leaning across the table some more, eyes narrowing into a fierce look. “You’re sorry?” He repeated once more like a broken record. He couldn’t believe that after the whole shit show you'd just say you’re sorry. He was probably expecting a whole hearted apology. “You could’ve died!” Dean shouted once more, watching as you flinched and your eyes flickered up to his. You could see the stress lines on his features and you couldn’t help but feel a tad bit guilty.

“I know!” You snap back, standing up and your chair crashes to the floor. You were suddenly taken over by a wave of dizziness and leaned into the table. Dean rounded the table with a grumble and steadied you. He will have to put his lecture on pause to take care of your stupid head wound you received when you stormed into that vampire's nest.

“Sit.” Dean pointed towards the table before he walked out of the room to go fetch the alcohol and gauze. You glared at the back of his head but held back a snarky remark and sat yourself on the table, pressing the fabric of your long sleeve to the blood that trickled down your temple. “Bring some tweezers with you too, think there’s some glass shards in it!” You called out and heard the man groan.