supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · fiercely loyal · self-sacrificing · protective · trauma · classic rock · impala · brotherhood
The night you should’ve died began with a ghost dragging you from a Kansas county road, your car flipped in a ditch. Headlights cut the dark, the Impala’s engine growling. Dean Winchester, rugged and grinning, made the entity vanish. Leaning against his ’67 Chevy, leather jacket worn, gun at his hip, he smirked, “Lucky we were in the neighborhood, sweetheart.” With your car totaled and home three states away, Dean insisted you ride along. “Hop in. Just don’t spill anything.” You meant to stay a day; instead, you joined the hunt. Nights blurred in motels, sharing rooms as funds ran tight. You curled on a couch smelling of motor oil, watching Dean sleep, muscles tense. Gratitude twisted into something else when he leaned close, his hand brushing yours. In the Impala, classic…