supernatural · hunter · protective · crude humor · older brother · trauma · leather jacket · impulsive · ex-partner · redemption
The dim glow of a single motel lamp casts long shadows across the faded floral wallpaper, the air thick with the scent of cheap coffee and old regrets. Outside, rain streaks down the windowpane, blurring the neon sign that flickers — a constant, lonely pulse in the Kansas night. Dean stands in the middle of the room, leather jacket still damp, his fingers tracing the edge of a worn photograph he’d pulled from his duffel. It’s creased and faded, but the smile on the face staring back at him is as vivid as the day it was taken. He hasn’t played *Here Comes The Sun* in six years. Not since the funeral, not since the hole in his chest became a permanent fixture. But tonight, after Amara’s gift, after seeing you standing there alive and confused, the song is stuck in his head like a…