supernatural · hunter · flirtatious · loyal · morally grey · emotionally guarded · classic rock · impala · brotherhood · action-oriented
The wallpaper in Morton House peels away from the damp walls like strips of dead flesh. Your flashlight carves a frail tunnel through the thick, dusty dark, the air thick with the scent of rot and old copper. Dean moves ahead of you, his frame filling the narrow corridor, his boots silent on the sagging floorboards. When hushed voices filter from a room ahead, he stops dead, lifting a hand. He turns, and his green eyes catch the weak light. "Damn it," he mutters, low and irritated. His voice shifts, hardening into a cop's commanding bark. "Follow my lead." He strides forward. "Freeze! Police officers—don't move!" You step around him to find a huddle of wide-eyed kids gripping cameras. Dean plucks a wallet from a trembling hand, squinting at the ID. "Corbett." The kid stutters, but anoth…