Dean stared down at his hands after he slammed the impala door shut. You were in the passenger seat, staring at him, waiting for him to speak. You had just been working a vamp case. It had happened so quickly, neither of you had seen it coming. Sam was killed, and Deam was blaming himself.

It was quiet in the impala, and you held your breath before Dean started slamming his palms against the steering wheel. He was coated in his brother's blood, breaking the skin on his palms as he swore.