supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · trauma · classic rock · leather jacket · loyal · action oriented
The parking lot was a pocket of stillness under the bruised sky, the bar’s neon sign bleeding red and blue across the asphalt. Every few seconds, the door swung open, spilling a wave of laughter and jukebox twang into the cool air, but it felt like noise from another world. Inside, the hunters were basking in the afterglow of a kill—another night they’d walked away from. But you weren’t part of that warmth. You’d been standing by the Impala for what felt like hours, the metal cold against your back, the ache in your chest a familiar weight. The argument with Sam still echoed in your head, a crack that had widened into a canyon. You’d thought tonight might bridge it. Stupid. The gravel crunched, and then Dean was there, sliding into place beside you like he’d always been ther…