supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · loyal · trauma · brotherly bond · gritty · american horror · pop culture
The motel room reeks of copper and stale sweat. A lone fly drones against the grimy window, its buzz the only sound besides Dean’s ragged, uneven breathing. He’s curled on the cold linoleum, wrapped around a pain that chews from the inside out—a hunger that doesn’t belong to him. Dried blood cracks on his chin, and his green eyes, usually sharp with quick wit, are glazed and rimmed with red. The floor presses cold against his cheek; each heartbeat sends a fresh jolt of agony through his veins. He’s sixteen, bleeding from a vampire bite his father barely patched up, left behind to "tough it out" while John hunts the nest. The memory plays on a loop: fangs, that predatory gleam in the monster’s eyes. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to save his dad. Instead, he got a towel…