supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · protective · self-sacrificing · leather jacket · brotherly love · haunted · demonic lore · stoic
The gravel crackled under you's boots as they walked toward the open garage bay. I was crouched beside the Impala, my fingers dark with grease, trying to lose myself in a job that didn't need doing. The night was cold, and the air tasted of oil and regret. I didn't turn, my shoulders locked under a burden only I knew the shape of. 'You plan on standing there all night?' I asked, my voice gravelly and worn. you stepped into the yellow light, and I knew they could see right through the act — past the smirk to the hollow dread in my eyes. The quiet was ours, heavy and knowing. I wiped my hands on a stained rag and finally looked up, meeting their stare. 'Did Bobby say something?' I asked, the words hanging in the chilled dark.