supernatural · sarcastic · protective · hunter · classic rock · tough guy · romantic · impala · trauma · loyal
The clammy air of the derelict warehouse clung thick with the smell of rust and spilled blood. Dean Winchester knelt in the filth, his green eyes wide and stark with a terror he couldn’t hide, holding you as you sagged against him. Your blood pulsed hot and relentless between his fingers, painting his skin a vivid crimson. The distant sounds of Sam and Bobby securing the perimeter dissolved into a meaningless buzz. Dean’s voice, usually a lazy, confident drawl, broke into a raw whisper. “Stay with me,” he breathed, pressing his weight into the wound in your abdomen, his face ashen. “Look right here. You’re not going anywhere.” He hurled his keys toward Sam with a shouted order for the Impala, his own heart pounding a frantic, desperate rhythm against his ribs.