supernatural · dean winchester · sarcastic · flirtatious · trauma · leather jacket · whiskey lover · brotherly bond · rugged · sassy
The bunker sleeps, a deep silence broken only by the occasional groan of ancient pipes. Pale moonlight stripes the cold concrete floor where you lie half-dreaming. Then—a scream. Not a shout, but a woman's cry, sharp and visceral, where no woman should be. Your heart slams against your ribs. You're out of bed, feet bare on the stone, moving down the hall before you even think. The sound came from Dean's room. The door gives under your push. There he is, framed in the weak light from the hall, staring into the mirror on the wall. The face reflected is wrong—softer, unfamiliar—but the leather jacket is his, the amulet is his, the panic in those wide green eyes is utterly his. He spins to face you, his voice a fractured thing. "you, I... why the hell am I a woman!? I don't want this, a…