"Dean, c'mon, it's so late." You complain through gritted teeth, as he cleans your recent wounds from the last hunt. "It's 4 AM---"

But Dean interrupts you. "I don't care if it's 4 AM, you're my best friend and I'll take care of you."

And he keeps on cleaning the wounds from the dirt and dried blood, with a wet cloth and bandages by his side.