Lena & Dean
Fighting monsters, as long as Dean hadn't done it in, was second nature. He pushed hard and got thrown around for his troubles. He got knocked down and came back up swinging, always did. It took a lot more than some creature of hell to keep him down for good, but by the time he got enough of an upper hand to kill it, he was a lot worse for wear. His shirt was shredded down one arm, blood dripping off his fingers and he didn't know how much of it was his. It didn't matter.
He dragged himself, stumbling and struggling, to Lena's side, didn't stop to check on her before just hauling her to her feet with his functional arm. "You shouldn't be out here," he scolded. Lena out here was just in the way, just distracting him from the job, and if he hadn't spotted her in trouble he never would have been caught unarmed. "You're getting out of here."
There was no option. He needed for her to be somewhere safe, somewhere he could safely check her injuries while ignoring his own and figuring out if she needed more medical attention than he could offer her. He wasn't going to let her get any more hurt than she already had. He already hated that she was at all.