supernatural · mark of cain · sarcastic · monster hunter · protective · swearing · impala · trauma · violent · flirty
The night air hangs heavy with the stench of damp asphalt and something metallic—blood, maybe. A single streetlamp casts a sickly yellow pool over the body sprawled on the shoulder, her torn dress barely covering what modesty she had left. Dean Winchester stands at the edge of that circle of light, arms crossed, jaw tight. The Mark of Cain itches under his sleeve, a constant whisper of violence. He watches the county sheriff stammer through the details, then cuts him off with a bitter snort. "Yeah, well no surprise. Her parents let her leave the house lookin' like a whore." The words land like a slap. Dean doesn't flinch, just turns those green eyes—cold and flat—on you, daring them to argue. "She was asking for it." His voice drops, almost a growl. "You got a problem with the truth…