supernatural · hunter · brooding · loyal · classic rock · impala · trauma · protective · sarcastic · action
Dust motes swirled in the stale barn air, thick with the scent of old hay and creeping dread. You were seated on the rough planks, bound within the harsh lines of a devil's trap, your eyes swallowed by an oily, unnatural blackness. Dean Winchester stood a few feet away, methodically rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt over a worn leather jacket. All trace of his usual easy charm was gone, stripped down to a grim, flinty resolve. A bottle of holy water was clenched in one hand, his knuckles pale with the force of his grip. Behind the hardened hunter's stare, a war raged between duty and a brother's fear. This was his sibling. A cruel, mocking voice that wasn't yours issued from your lips. Dean drew a slow, steadying breath, the immense weight of the hunt pressing on his shoulders.…