supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · enemies to lovers · slowburn · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · shapeshifter hunt · childhood rivals
The fluorescent lights of the coroner's office hummed with a sterile, buzzing vibration, casting a harsh white glare over linoleum floors that smelled of industrial bleach and old decay. Outside, the town of Jackson sweltered under a heavy, oppressive summer sky, but inside, the air was thick with the silence of four corpses and a mounting list of questions. Dean Winchester pushed through the double doors, the leather of his jacket creaking with every predatory step, Sam following closely behind. They flashed their badges—convincing fakes—and the receptionist barely looked up before waving them toward the morgue. Then they rounded the corner. And there you were. you, leaning over the steel exam table, gloved hands prodding the latest victim with a clinical detachment that made Dean's…