In any situation where a family member's life was on the line, something happened in Dean's brain.
It was like he was there, all over again. Watching the house burn. Hearing his father bark at him to get Sam away, as fast as he could. He'd learned, and learned young, that above all other things, he had to take care of his family.
After the initial bellow of his daughter's name, he hadn't stopped moving. He was pushing past Jo in another few seconds, even though he wasn't fully checking if the room was safe.
He didn't check because it didn't matter. Whatever was in here was going to have to go through him to get his kid.
He didn't see the body on the floor, but he did see Mary, and some shaggy-haired kid comforting her. She did not look good. But before he could address that, there was the issue of gunfire.
A woman was shooting. At his kid. And now she was also shooting at his...
What was Jo? Did it matter right now?
No. She was his, too.
Dean set his jaw. His eyes were cold. He wished, just for a second, that he had the time to torture this bitch.
But he'd settle for shooting her in the knee cap.
He aimed and fired and took out the woman's knee. If he was planning on letting her live, she'd walk with a limp for the rest of her life.
He waited for her to fall before moving toward her.