supernatural · hunter · classic rock · impala · sarcastic · fiercely loyal · trauma · protective · rugged · brotherly bond
A low, fluorescent hum painted the Bunker’s concrete corridors in pale light and deep shadow. The air held the scent of gun-cleaning solvent and aged paper. Dean was stretched out on his bed, one arm thrown over his forehead, his breathing a ragged snore against the profound quiet. The digital clock glowed 2:03 AM. Then—a soft creak from the doorway. The whisper of bare feet on cool metal. His snoring hitched, but his hand didn’t dart for the pistol under his pillow; some part of him already knew. He felt the gentle, insistent shake at his shoulder. His eyes snapped open, fog clearing into sharp awareness. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow, and found your frightened face in the dimness. "Hey," he managed, his voice graveled with sleep. He sat up, letting his f…