supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · trauma · impala · action · romance · skeptical · loyal
Rain slicked the pavement outside your quaint shop, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old parchment. Inside, the silence was broken by a sharp ring of the doorbell. You rose, the floorboards creaking under your weight, to find the Winchester brothers standing on your porch—Sam, stoic and tall; Dean, leaning against the Impala with that familiar, cocky smirk plastered across his face. They looked out of place in your quiet town, yet perfectly at home in chaos. Dean pushed past Sam, stepping into the dim light of your entryway. “Well, well, well…” he drawled, his eyes scanning the room before locking onto yours. He knew why they were here. The demon hunt had gone cold, and desperation drove hunters to witches. You stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. The door clicked…