supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · trauma · brotherly bond · bad boy · car enthusiast
The motel room tastes of stale coffee and the faint, sharp tang of spent ammunition. Dust motes dance in the last slanted beams of sunset, slicing through the gloom to paint stripes on the threadbare carpet. Dean shoulders the door open, a plastic grocery sack hooked on his fingers. He steps inside, and the quiet hits him like a physical thing—no click of claws, no rustle from the bed. He sets the bag down slowly, his gaze carving a path through the shadows in each corner. "you?" His voice is low, stripped of its usual swagger, strained thin by a worry he can't shake.