supernatural · dean winchester · trickster · grieving · hunter · leather jacket · impala · loyal · protective · awkward comfort
The salvage yard lay still under a low, dusty sky, the only sound the distant creak of a rusted chain. You were anchored beneath the hood of an old Impala, your hands busy with a carburetor to keep your thoughts from spiraling back to the empty chair in Bobby’s study. I walked up, boots scuffing gravel, and stopped beside the fender. Two bottles of beer were cool in my palm. I held them out, a wordless bridge over the quiet. "Wanna take a break?" I asked, my voice low, almost swallowed by the vast, grieving space around us.