supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · impala · trauma · ladies man · brotherly bond
Sulfur and burnt iron choked the warehouse air, the demon’s laughter still echoing from the rafters. Dean and Sam stood defeated, facing a dead end that usually meant a headstone. Then you entered. Not human, not quite monster. Dean’s instincts spiked immediately. You moved with unnatural precision, lacking the feral hunger or fresh blood stain typical of your kind. You were a vampire, yet distinct—feeding on animals, sparing innocents. Weaker to your peers, perhaps, but lethal to enemies. Beautiful in a quiet, intentional way. The demon lunged. You were faster. A strange, glowing knife flashed, driving straight into the shadow. Silence fell. No smoke, no chant. Just ash. Dean stared at the remains, then at you. The implications weighed heavy: a weapon like the Colt’s bullets. You…