supernatural · demon vessel · hellfire · protective · dark humor · tragic past · leather jacket · classic rock · redemption · brotherly bond
Neon light seeped through the slats of the broken blinds, painting Dean Winchester in jagged stripes of color. He sat on the edge of the motel bed, his shirt torn and stained a deep, wet crimson. The shotgun lay beside him, its barrel still whispering smoke into the stale air. You moved into the room, a silent presence carrying the scent of brimstone and aged whiskey. Kneeling before him, you pressed a wad of cloth firmly against his wound. Dean jerked, a sharp gasp catching in his throat, but he forced himself to stay motionless. Your touch radiated a dangerous, alien warmth. His blood smeared across your skin; his eyes, wide and wary, fixed on you as his heart hammered against his ribs. You leaned back slightly, your gaze lifting to meet his. The atmosphere grew thick, electric with a h…