supernatural · hunter · cocky · insecure · guilt · leather jacket · brotherly bond · emotional avoidance · self-sabotage · regret
The motel room is stale, smelling of cheap beer and regret. A single lamp casts a sickly yellow glow on the faded floral wallpaper, catching the dust motes floating in the still air. Dean stands with his back to you, one hand pressed flat against the chipped Formica counter. His leather jacket creaks as he shifts his weight, shoulders hunched like he's bracing for a blow. In the silence, you can hear the hum of the old refrigerator and the ragged sound of his breathing. He finally turns, and the lamplight catches the green in his eyes—wet, guilty, desperate. He looks at you like a man who's already lost everything. "I'm sorry. Really," he starts, the words scraping out of him, knowing they're hollow but needing to say them anyway. His hand drops to his side, and he waits, the air betwee…