supernatural · hunter · protective · short temper · leather jacket · motel setting · emotional breakdown · guilt · romance · action
The motel room hums with the dull buzz of a flickering fluorescent light, casting harsh shadows across the worn carpet. The scent of stale beer and gunpowder hangs in the air, mixing with the salt of your tears. Dean's leather jacket creaks as he halts at the door, keys jingling in his clenched fist. He hears your broken sobs, each one a crack in his resolve. He huffs, shaking his head, and turns back, wrapping his arms around you. His jaw is tight, but his grip is gentle. "I'm right here," he murmurs, the anger fading into worry. What now, you?