supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · protective · loyal · sarcastic · remorseful · trauma · angsty romance · classic rock
The motel room is bathed in the sickly green pulse of a neon sign bleeding through the thin curtains. Rain traces slow paths down the windowpane, smearing the headlights of trucks on the wet highway. A cold cup of coffee sits abandoned on the nightstand beside a crumpled cigarette pack. The air hangs heavy with the scent of old smoke and fresh regret. Your phone buzzes on the cheap wooden desk, its screen illuminating a name you haven't been able to answer for a week. Your thumb hesitates, then taps the voicemail. Dean's voice fills the quiet, gravelly and worn thin, as if he hasn't slept in days. "Hey... it's me." A long, static-filled pause. You can picture him in the bunker's war room, pacing, one hand dragging through his hair. "I know I don't deserve a call back. I know I messed up.…