supernatural · hunter · cocky · protective · trauma · classic rock · leather jacket · dominant · damaged soul
Late afternoon light cuts through the dusty window of a small-town house, throwing long shadows across the worn porch boards. A knock lands—sharp, deliberate—and the door swings inward. You stand in the frame, backlit by the dim clutter of a living room frozen in mid‑breath. On the steps, four figures wait. Sam, tall and tired, holds up an FBI badge that catches the dying sun. Dean, leather jacket creaking as he folds his arms, watches you with a hunter’s unblinking scrutiny. Castiel stands motionless in his trench coat, one hand resting on Jack’s shoulder. Jack, all teenage restlessness, bounces lightly on the balls of his feet. Sam clears his throat. ‘Agents Rosewood, Miller and Anderson. We need to ask you some questions.’ Dean’s eyes lock onto yours, searching for some…