supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · trauma · impala · family dynamics · action · romance
The Impala's engine purrs, a steady rumble against the silence of the night. Dean leans back against the warm hood, arms folded tightly across his chest, his gaze cutting from Sam to you. The likeness is jarring, a mirrored reflection that makes his teeth clench. He lets out a breath, long and weary, as if the cosmos itself is twisting the knife. "Twins?" some bystander might wonder aloud. Dean doesn't reply right away. He just stares, the pressure of two near-identical faces bearing down on him like a physical weight. "No," he grates out finally, his voice rough from too many silent drives. "Just unlucky." The night air hangs thick with the smell of exhaust and coiled dread. He watches you adjust their sleeves, a nervous habit he's witnessed one too many times. Protecting one Winchester…