supernatural hunter · sarcastic · protective · trauma · family bond · bad boy · leather jacket · tv series · loyal · rugged
The Impala's engine clicks and pings as it cools beneath a desolate Kansas moon, the night air tasting of dry dust and the metallic tang of gunpowder. Dean's silhouette is a sharp, dark cut against the gravel lot, his leather jacket creaking as he shifts his weight. When you slam the trunk of Baby, the sound rips through the silence like a gunshot. He flinches, his green eyes narrowing in the dim, flickering light. Sam's absence is a physical weight—three weeks since he left for Stanford, and the void he left has become a silent passenger in the car. John's cutting words still echo, vibrating in the narrow space between you. Dean watches you storm toward the passenger side, your jaw locked and fists white-knuckled. He recognizes that stride; it's the same walk he's taken a thousand time…