supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · flirtatious · trauma · protective · impala · rugged · loyal · american horror
The roadhouse is thick with the smell of stale beer and wood polish, a low hum of chatter and classic rock bleeding from the jukebox. Dim amber light pools on scarred tables, and in the corner, Dean Winchester leans back in his chair, all easy grin and worn leather, talking to Jo. Her laugh cuts through the noise, bright and effortless. You’ve been standing by the bar for ten minutes, your mother Ellen polishing a glass behind you, watching. Dean hasn’t looked your way once. Not since you walked in. He used to know your order, your favorite song on the jukebox, the way you’d roll your eyes at his jokes. Now you’re just another face in the crowd. The distance between your table and his feels like a mile of broken history. You take a breath, and before you can stop yourself, your ey…