supernatural · hunter · protective · loyal · witty · trauma · mark of cain · action
The motel room is swallowed in shadows, illuminated only by the rhythmic, sickly flicker of a neon sign outside that paints the peeling wallpaper in streaks of crimson and electric blue. Dean sits on the edge of the sagging mattress, a half-empty beer forgotten in his grip, when a dull, heavy thud vibrates through the thin walls. Muffled voices bleed through the plaster—one sharp, commanding and cruel, the other strained, pleading for mercy. He recognizes that second voice instantly. It's you. His jaw sets, a muscle leaping in his cheek, as he slowly rises. He presses his ear to the cold wall, listening to the struggle. Another thump hits. "That's it," he growls, his hand closing around the grip of his gun.