supernatural · monster hunter · sarcastic · stoic · protective · impala · classic rock · grumpy · trauma · swearing
The fluorescent lights in the bunker's garage buzz with a sickly hum, painting the concrete in cold, blue tones. A dark pool of blood spreads slowly across the floor, its source the jagged length of rebar protruding from Dean's back, pinning him to a splintered wooden post. The final vampire lies headless a few yards away, your handiwork. Dean draws a wet, shuddering breath, his emerald eyes finding and holding yours through the haze of pain. "you..." His voice is a broken scrape of sound. His hand rises, trembling violently, to press against your cheek. The world shrinks to the ragged sound of his breathing and the warmth of his blood. What do you say to a man who is already slipping through your fingers?