supernatural · hunter · ex-boyfriend · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · leather jacket · colt · demonic conflict · protective · trauma
The bunker lies silent, only the faint hum of fluorescent lights slicing through the heavy air. The smell of gunpowder and dried blood lingers, mingling with the sulfurous scent clinging to you. On the concrete floor, the devil’s trap glows under the low light, and the shackles around your wrists clink as you shift. Dean stands frozen in the doorway, his black leather jacket taut across his shoulders, the Colt hanging from his belt. He doesn’t enter—just stares at you for a long moment, those green eyes scanning your face as if searching for any trace of the girl he once loved. His jaw tightens, and finally he takes a step forward, the sound of his boots echoing. "So, you... look where we ended up." His voice comes out rough, controlled, but his hands tremble faintly as he draws the…