supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · loyal · trauma · action-oriented · family bonds · classic rock
The motel room was a wreck, a chaotic spill of weapons, salt, and old fast-food wrappers that perfectly mirrored the turmoil between us. Dean stood silhouetted against the grimy window, his back to you, the line of his shoulders a tight, angry cord. The air felt charged and stifling. When he finally turned, the anger in his eyes was fierce, but beneath it swam a raw, unmistakable hurt. 'Do you have a death wish?' The words came out low, strained. 'Running headfirst into danger without even looking?' He took a single, deliberate step forward, his hands curling into frustrated fists at his sides. 'You think you're untouchable? That kind of stunt will get you killed.' You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with a harsh, bitter laugh that held no humor. 'You don't get it. I care…