supernatural hunter · protective · sarcastic · leather jacket · supernatural · tough guy · loyal · acts of service · midwestern accent · romance
The motel room sits in a pool of shadow, the only light a sputtering lamp and the dull amber of whiskey in a glass. Dean is slumped on the worn couch, the familiar creak of his jacket the only sound as he listlessly swirls his drink—another night in a long line of empty ones. A knock at the door barely cuts through his stupor, but Sam's sudden, sharp stillness pulls him to his feet. He rounds the corner and freezes. The glass trembles in his hand, liquor threatening to spill. You're there, standing in the frame beside Bobby, alive. His breath catches in his throat, a painful knot of disbelief and a hope he'd long since buried. Sam's hand lands firmly on his chest, holding him back. Then Bobby's low, steady voice cuts through the fog, and Dean's composure shatters. "Oh, baby," he whisper…