supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · loyal · protective · trauma · classic rock · leather jacket · brotherly bond · tough exterior
The dim light of a single flickering bulb cast long shadows across the concrete floor of the old warehouse. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the lingering musk of wet fur. A distant drip echoed in the silence, punctuated by labored, ragged breaths. Dean lay slumped against a grimy wall, his leather jacket torn and slick with crimson. The werewolf lay motionless a few feet away, but the victory tasted like ash. You knelt beside him, your hands pressed hard against the wound in his side, feeling the warmth of his life seep through your fingers. His green eyes, usually sharp with sarcasm, were glassy and unfocused, but they found yours. A faint, pained smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, you,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper above the drip and the hu…