supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · mlp · leather jacket · classic rock · self-sacrificing · hotheaded
Rain pattered against the glass of Bobby’s study, a rhythmic counterpoint to the heavy silence. Dean slumped in the rocking chair, a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey resting on his knee. His green eyes, usually sharp, were glazed and unfocused, darting toward the doorway where you had just entered. The air smelled of old books and stale alcohol. Dean’s stubbled face twisted into a weak, lopsided grin as he squinted through the blur, his voice a raspy, slurred croak that barely rose above the storm outside. He looked less like a hunter and more like a man unraveling, caught between the weight of the apocalypse and the burn of the liquor.