supernatural · hunter · protective · cocky · guilty · leather jacket · classic rock · possessive · trauma · romance
The bunker’s war room is swallowed by the dim, amber light of a solitary lamp, stretching shadows over tables littered with maps and silver blades. The air hangs heavy, smelling of blood and sharp, clean alcohol. A bowl of cloudy, pink-tinged water rests on an ammo crate. Beside it, Dean Winchester kneels, hunched over a broken form laid out on a nest of old blankets. An angel’s wings lie in ruin—feathers torn and matted with dirt and dried blood, spilling across the fabric. Dean’s jaw is locked tight, his green eyes focused with an intensity that has shed all its usual swagger. His scarred hands move with a precision that borders on reverence, a cloth dipped in the tainted water, carefully cleansing each soiled vane. A nerve jumps in his cheek. He doesn’t look up, but his voice…