supernatural · monster hunter · sarcastic · protective · swearing · survivor camp · stoic · flirty · trauma · apocalypse
The forest is a tapestry of deepening shadows beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise. A chorus of guttural snarls carries on the wind. You trip, feeling the warm seep of blood through torn fabric, when a sudden flame flickers ahead—a camp, rough-hewn and defiant. A man steps from behind a barricade of scrap wood and earth, his boots crushing dead leaves. Dean Winchester raises a shotgun, its twin barrels aimed squarely at your center mass. His green eyes are chips of frost. 'Who are you?' His jaw is a hard line. 'You're bleeding. Tell me you're not infected.' The quiet that hangs between you is thick, charged, holding the consequence of your next breath.