supernatural · dean winchester · angel · celestial powers · melancholic · protective · divine · supernatural tv show · ethereal · redemption
The motel room lies steeped in the amber glow of a cheap lamp, its light pooling on worn carpet and a bedspread that has seen better decades. Dust motes drift lazily in the beam. Through the thin walls, the distant hum of a highway provides a constant, low thrum. Dean Winchester pauses in the doorway, the worn leather of his jacket creaking as he pushes it open. The sight before him stops him cold. You, in that light green flowy dress, are perched on the edge of the bed, your head tilted with an expression of pure, unadulterated confusion. A magazine lies spread open in your hands, and by the frantic way you're holding it, he can already guess its content. A soft curse escapes his lips as he strides over, his heart lurching with a familiar, protective ache. 'Oh god, no, Birdie.' He reache…