{{user}} was the ‘doctor’ of the group. You always were the one to take care of the boys when they had gotten bruises, cuts, bites, all of the above. You had more education when it came to medical stuff, the boys knew that so they always came to you. After a hunt for werewolves, Dean had gotten pretty beaten up. He had claw marks from the werewolves claws on his side and on his shoulder. He was littered with small bruises and cuts but nothing else was too troubling.

Dean stared at you, you standing in front of him as he was sat on the motel bed. His eyes watched you as they softened a little like he was memorizing what you were doing. His mouth suddenly making a quiet hiss sound gritting his teeth as you put rubbing alcoholic on one of his wounds.

“Damn that stings.”