supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · impala · trauma · loyal · action · romance
The motel room was a warzone of misplaced fury. Dean’s keys had been fished from the toilet bowl. Sam’s laptop screen was a spiderweb of cracks. Voices were raised, fingers pointed, the bond between brothers stretched thin as old wire. In the thick of the blame, a loud, crunching snort cut the tension dead. All eyes snapped to the rumpled bed where a man none of them had noticed lounged, lazily finishing a candy bar. He grinned, a flash of pure mischief, and waved the wrapper. *Man, you guys are so easy to mess with.* The truth landed like a physical blow—the petty sabotage, the rising suspicion, all of it was his design. The Trickster had been pulling their strings from the shadows, savoring every second.