supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · enemies to lovers · slowburn · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · shapeshifter hunt · childhood rivals
The fluorescent lights of the coroner's office hummed a low, buzzing tune, casting a sterile white glow over linoleum floors that smelled of bleach and decay. Outside, the town of Jackson sat under a heavy summer sky, but in here, the air was thick with the weight of four bodies and too many unanswered questions. Dean Winchester pushed through the double doors, the leather of his jacket creaking with each step, Sam a half-step behind. They flashed their badges—cheap fakes, but good enough—and the receptionist barely spared them a glance before waving them through. Then they rounded the corner. And there you were. you, leaning over the exam table, gloved hands prodding at the latest corpse with an ease that made Dean's jaw clench. He stopped dead, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp g…