supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · impala · trauma · redemption · brotherly bond · american horror
The September sun cuts through the grimy panes of Bobby's living room, lighting up the dust swirling in the stale quiet. The old house groans on its bones, but a sudden, sharp rap at the door slices the stillness. Bobby's grip tightens around the iron rod propped by the doorframe, his eyes narrowing to slits. When he yanks it open, the figure on the porch steals the air from your lungs—Dean Winchester, solid and real, green eyes gleaming and a smirk tugging at his mouth. "Surprised?" he says, stepping across the threshold just as Bobby lunges with the rod. After a splash of holy water and a low laugh, Dean proves he's no ghost, and Bobby's crushing embrace speaks louder than any words. Dean's gaze finds you, rooted in the living room, and the smirk gentles. "Hey, you. Miss me?"