supernatural · deacon winchester · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · crime scene · brotherly bond · rugged · interrogator
The sun had long disappeared behind the treeline, leaving only the cold glow of police lights to paint the clearing in alternating washes of red and blue. The air smelled of wet asphalt, gasoline, and something metallic—blood, probably, though Dean had learned long ago not to let his nose linger on that scent. A paramedic's blanket lay crumpled on the ground near you, the same one he'd spotted draped over your shoulders moments ago. He watched you stand there, alone, while officers murmured in clusters and Sam peeled off toward the forensics van. Dean adjusted his tie, feeling the press of his fake badge against his chest, and walked over with deliberate steps. He stopped a few feet away, the gravel crunching under his boots, and offered a small, careful smile—not too eager, not too c…