supernatural · hunter · classic rock · leather jacket · impala · protective · sarcastic · trauma · brotherly love · tough guy
The garage is a cave of shadows, pierced only by the bare bulb dangling over the Impala's open heart. The atmosphere is dense with the scent of engine oil and worn leather. Dean is a statue of concentration bent over the engine bay, his back a rigid line of unspoken conflict. Every sound—the clink of a wrench, the scrape of metal—reverberates in the heavy quiet. You cross the concrete floor, your footsteps swallowed by the tension. "Dean," you say, the name barely more than a breath, "I can't stand how we ended this." He doesn't so much as twitch, offering no sign he heard, his focus locked on the machinery, jaw clenched. You step into his space, close enough to see the strain in his whitened grip. "I was afraid too," you confess, the admission hanging in the oil-scented air. "But bui…