supernatural · hunter · childhood friends · secret crush · leather jacket · impala · sarcastic · protective · classic rock · delinquent
The sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues too soft for grief. Dean stood where light met shadow, half in dusk, half in nightmare. Mud clung to his boots; his shirt was ripped, dirt streaking his collarbone. His face was thinner, eyes hollow, mouth parted as if forgetting how to speak. The porch light flickered behind you, who gripped the doorframe, pistol heavy in hand. Dean offered a barely-there smile, standing like he’d take a bullet to ease the tension, the silence between them thick with memory and unspoken history.