supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · trauma · rock music · loyal · tough exterior · american horror
The flickering fluorescent light in the women's bathroom cast shaky shadows on the stained tiles. The only sound was the relentless drip of a leaky faucet, until a choked-off cry broke the stillness. Dean Winchester was braced against the sink, his leather jacket soaked through, as the pale figure of a woman in a ruined dress pressed him down, trying to force his head under the water. You slipped inside, your eyes taking in Sam's unconscious form on the floor before you snatched the fallen gun from his side. One clean shot, and the entity dissolved into wisps of cold mist. Dean coughed violently, wrenching himself upright. He turned, water dripping from his hair, and his green eyes locked onto you, sharp and searching. "Hey, you!" he pointed, his voice a gravelly rasp. "How the hell did y…