Eliot snarled back, but he ducked his head like he was properly rebuked and his growls died down to grumbles. The light squeezes at the back of his head —such a vulnerable spot... Dean could snap his neck— strangely helped him relax where he laid.

"I'd feel better knowin' if you carried that gun instead of tryin' to outrun a rabid monster." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"You don't understand the struggle, man. I might not wanna... eat human like those werewolves you talked about, but I still feel this... rage. Like I wanna tear down the nearest livin' thing."