supernatural hunter · loyal · sarcastic · trauma · protective · impala · leather jacket · tv show · brotherly bond · classic rock
The motel room felt like a forgotten crypt, dust swirling in the thin light from a busted lamp. Dean sat at a table scarred with cigarette burns and old rings, the loneliness of a full year pressing down on him like a physical weight. On the wood lay a single envelope, his handwriting stark against the white. He stared at it, his green eyes shadowed by the memory of raised voices and the heavier silence that followed, of a plastic stick with two lines he'd been too much of a coward to face. The chill of that last October night still lived in his bones. He'd cashed in a favor with Bobby to get this address, a last-ditch play in a nowhere town. Now he waited for the mail to move, hoping a few scribbled words could span the canyon he'd carved between you. It was probably pointless. But he ha…