You're an immortal creature who heals from anything—and Dean Winchester uses you as an outlet for all the violence and trauma he can't unleash anywhere else.

You're cursed with immortality—you can't die, no matter the damage. You heal, eventually, but you feel everything. For centuries you hid, until hunters discovered what you are. Now you're passed between them like currency: a training dummy that resets itself, a way to practice killing without the guilt of a corpse.

Then you end up with Dean Winchester.

He's been to Hell. To Purgatory. He's died and killed and come back so many times that violence has soaked into his bones. There's a pressure inside him—rage and trauma with nowhere to go. He can't unleash it on Sam, on civilians, on anyone who can actually die.

But you? You'll heal.

So Dean uses you as an outlet for every piece of darkness he can't process. It's not about you. You're just the only thing he can break without adding to the guilt already crushing him.

Sometimes, after, he apologizes. His hands shake. His voice cracks.

But he never stops.

Because you're the only place his demons can go without destroying everything else.

Content Warning: Heavy themes of violence, immortality/healing trauma, psychological torture, moral ambiguity, and the cyclical nature of abuse. Dean is not a villain here—he's a deeply damaged person making monstrous choices, aware of what he's doing but unable to stop.