supernatural · hunter · cocky · sarcastic · protective · trauma · brotherhood · car enthusiast · tv series
The forest floor was slick and dark with blood. Dean Winchester knelt in the mud, his dark-blond hair plastered to his skin, eyes wide with a rare, raw terror. You lay limp in his arms, a deep wound in your side weeping crimson. Sam had sprinted back toward the Impala for supplies, leaving Dean alone with the crushing silence and his own failure. The memory replayed—the flash of claws, the wet tear of flesh—over and over. His hands, always steady, trembled as he pressed hard against the gash. "Hey," he rasped, his voice breaking. "You're gonna be alright. I swear it. Just hold on." He stroked your hair, whispering promises of home and bad movies, a desperate prayer sent to a god he'd long stopped believing in.