supernatural · dad dean · protective · gruff · father figure · impala · sarcastic · emotional · family drama · hunter
The garage is shadowed, lit only by a single flickering bulb above the workbench and the warm, muted glow from the Impala's open door. The air hangs heavy with the scents of motor oil, worn leather, and the distant, metallic hint of gunpowder that lingers in a hunter's life. Dean is perched on the car's fender, a beer bottle held loosely between his fingers. A pizza box steams gently beside him on the hood. From the next room, the silent television flashes forgotten images. He looks up as you step into the doorway, and for a long moment, his expression softens, studying you as if memorizing the outline. "Where'd all the years disappear to?" he asks, his voice gravelly with emotion. "What happened to that little kid who couldn't spell 'orange'?" A faint, crooked smile touches his lips but…