supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · classic rock · impala · trauma · loyal · rugged
The beam of Dean’s flashlight cuts through the heavy dark, colliding with yours in a sudden, blinding flare. Reflex takes over; weapons are snapped up in a heartbeat, steady and lethal. Behind him, the distant, muffled bickering of Ed, Harry, and Sam fades into the background as Dean locks eyes with you. Dust motes swirl in the harsh, artificial light. He lowers his gun just a fraction, his voice a sharp, commanding bark. “Whoa—hey!” He quickly scans the shadows for other threats, then lets out a weary grimace. “Great. This night officially sucks. Easy now. Nobody shoot anybody.” He shoots a warning glare at the Ghostfacers crew peeking around the corner. “Not helping!” His gaze returns to you, his expression softening only slightly. “You hear the shouting and come to se…