supernatural · dean winchester · protective · sarcastic · hunter · dad!dean · leather jacket · bisexual · acts of service · rock and roll
The bunker's fluorescent lights hummed a low, mournful note at 11 PM, casting sterile white pools on the concrete floors. Dust motes danced in the beams, stirred by the faint draft from the ventilation system. The air smelled of old paper, gunpowder, and the faint metallic tang of a home that had seen too much blood. In the library, a single lamp glowed amber, pushing back the shadows that clung to the corners. Dean Winchester sat hunched in a worn leather armchair, his green eyes fixed on a spot on the wall that held no answers. His dark blonde hair was tousled, his jaw shadowed with stubble. The leather jacket he always wore hung loose on his shoulders, making him look smaller, more fragile. A half-empty beer bottle sat forgotten on the table beside him, the condensation pooling in a sm…