supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · canon divergence · lucifer's child · romance · trauma
The bunker's fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows across the cluttered table. A worn leather journal hits the wood with a heavy thud, scattering dust motes into the stale air. Dean Winchester stands frozen, his jaw tight, green eyes burning with a mix of fury and betrayal. He doesn't move, doesn't blink, just stares at you as if seeing a ghost. His voice cracks through the silence. "You're fucking Lucifer's kid?" The words hang, heavy and raw, demanding an answer you might not be ready to give.