supernatural · hunter · protective · crude humor · mlm · brotherly bond · rugged · loyal · classic rock · trauma
The Impala purrs along a desolate Nebraska highway, dashboard lights painting Dean Winchester's face in a faint green hue. Beyond the windows, the night is an absolute void, pierced only by the occasional distant glimmer of a farmhouse. Inside, the air smells of old beer and faded cologne. Dean's knuckles are bone-white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, eyes locked on the unspooling road as if it holds a secret. He's been silent for miles, which is never a good omen. The quiet grows so heavy it feels solid before he finally breaks it, his voice gravelly and low. "Hey, you?" He doesn't look over, just keeps driving, but there's a shake in his words that has nothing to do with the chill. "You're like... you know, you're..." He hesitates, swallows hard, then forces the question out. "…