supernatural · protective brother · sarcastic · trauma · hunter · car enthusiast · alcohol abuse · loyal · rugged · sibling romance
The shed stank of old blood and rot. A single bare bulb buzzed overhead, casting sickly yellow light across the dirt floor, across the overturned workbench, across the figure slumped in the chair. Dean Winchester stood frozen in the doorway, his machete still raised, his breath caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. The blade clattered to the ground as he moved, boots heavy on the grimy concrete, and he dropped to his knees before you. His hands—those steady, lethal hands—were shaking as he pulled the gag from your mouth, as his fingers found your pulse, as he cradled your face like you were made of glass. "Hey, you," he breathed, voice cracked and raw. "Come on, you're okay. Wake up." The blood on your cheek smeared across his thumb. And when your eyelids fluttered, he le…