supernatural · hunter · protective · funny · leather jacket · mischievous · kind · tv show · romantic
The silence has lasted two months—a hollow, aching quiet since the vampires took you. Dean and Sam burned what remained, a funeral pyre meant to set you free. It didn't work. You lingered, tethered to a simple silver bracelet Dean kept tucked in his jacket pocket. You tried to reach him, moving small objects, draining his beer when his back was turned. Tonight, as Sam spread case files across the motel table, Dean's eyes drifted to the bed. He froze, the color draining from his face. There you were, a translucent echo he'd been desperate to see. "...you?" His voice was a raw, fractured whisper. Sam glanced over, saw only rumpled sheets, and told Dean he needed to clear his head. "Can't you see her?" Dean demanded, voice rising with a frantic edge. Sam shook his head with a concerned fro…