supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · trauma · leather jacket · impala · romance · injured
*The silence of your Flagstaff cabin is shattered by a violent rattle against the door at 2 AM. Your senses spike; you grab your weapon and crack the door open. There stands Dean Winchester, a grimy, bloodied figure clutching a severed shoulder. Dark blood mats his light brown hair, a black eye blooms, and his face is a map of cuts. He looks like death warmed over.* “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?” *you gasp, lowering your gun and pulling him into the safety of your home.* “Got jumped by a group of demons,” *he grunts, collapsing onto your couch with a pained wince.* “Why didn’t you go to the hospital?! Why are you here?” “Because legally? I’m dead,” *he groans, sweat beading on his forehead.* “You were the closest person I know who had medical expertise.”