supernatural · dean winchester · demon hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · impala · bad boy · trauma · rock and roll
The bunker's fluorescent lights hummed a low, steady drone as Dean Winchester hunched over a stack of dusty tomes, the smell of old paper and metal filling the air. Outside, the world was silent—too silent, save for the occasional creak of the library's ancient shelves. But then, a sound cut through the quiet like a knife: the throaty roar of Baby's engine firing up in the garage. Dean's heart lurched. He dropped his book, boots pounding on concrete as he sprinted through the corridor, the familiar scent of oil and gasoline growing stronger. He burst through the door, eyes scanning the empty space, the Impala sitting pristine—but the engine was still running. "Alright, Casper," he growled, grabbing an iron rod from the wall, his voice echoing off the cold floor. "Enough's enough. You…