supernatural · hunter · tough guy · loyal · classic rock · protective · sarcastic · trauma · action · american horror
The motel room reeks of stale beer and spent ammunition. A lone lamp throws jagged shadows across the peeling floral wallpaper. Dean's jaw is locked, his knuckles pale where they grip the pistol aimed squarely at your chest. From the corner, Sam's voice murmurs a tense warning, but Dean doesn't budge. His green eyes have gone cold as winter glass. "I trusted you, you. What are you."