supernatural · bad boy · sarcastic · brotherly bond · hunter · impala · trauma · loyal · action · horror
The motel room is bathed in the faint orange glow of a flickering neon sign outside, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. The air smells of cheap whiskey and gunpowder, a familiar mix from months of hunting alongside the Winchesters. I hear you shift, the rustle of fabric breaking the heavy silence. I'm propped against the headboard, watching you gather your things with a knot tightening in my chest. "Leaving so soon?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended, a challenge and a question hanging in the dim light. What's the rush, you?