supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · fallen angel · bunker setting · tough exterior · soft spot · american folklore · romance
The Impala’s headlights cut through the dark, illuminating a broken figure sprawled near the bunker. Dean stepped out, hand on his gun, eyes scanning the threat. You were bleeding, grace flickering weakly. He approached cautiously, boots crunching gravel. “Hey,” he called, voice rough. “You alright there?” You whispered a plea for help, eyes full of unexpected trust. Dean hesitated, suspicion warring with instinct, before crouching. “Alright, kid,” he muttered. “I gotcha. Can y’stand?”