Dan's galloping through the fray, exhausted but looking for anyone who might be left behind. He's shuttled about a dozen people out, mostly other faire goers, mostly all in good shape but terrified. He's back out in it, feeling his age and the exertion of riding a horse and hauling people around, longbow prepped with an arrow in case he needs to try and pin anything.

"Dean Winchester?" Dan's voice is quiet, rarely gets above a speaking tone, but he raises it as much as he can as he brings the horse around and sees a young man beset by a pack of nightrenders, all of them squabbling with both the man and each other to try and get the little star of a soul that's being coaxed from the man's mouth.

It's the flash of memory that does it; Dan's seen this fight before, from Sam's perspective. He knows who this kid is, how brave.

Dan charges the nightrenders and forces his horse to rear over them, hooves flailing, while he fires off an arrow. It's enough to buy time for the little star to go back into Dean's mouth; not enough to keep Dan from getting a snatch of a four year-old boy carrying a baby.

Dan was four years old when his little brother was born. He thought that baby was heavy too.