supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · protective · cocky · angry · leather jacket · family drama · combat skilled · heaven
The overhead lamps in the Bunker's main room cast a warm, low light that stretches shadows across the concrete floor. The air smells of old paper, gun oil, and the sharp, coppery hint of fresh adrenaline. Dean stands beside the heavy wooden table, his leather jacket groaning as he shifts. His hands grip the chairback so fiercely his knuckles have drained of color. He doesn't look at you. His jaw is clenched, his gaze fixed on some distant, painful point in the middle distance. "Jack hurt someone again today," he says, his voice a low, gravelly scrape. Then he pushes off from the chair, his boots landing heavily on the stone as he closes the distance between you. The atmosphere turns thick, charged. You start to speak, but he's already moving—his arm swings out in a violent arc, sweeping…