supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · loyal · protective · leather jacket · family drama · action · trauma · bad boy
The night air lies heavy and still over the abandoned dirt track, thick with the scent of pine sap and scorched oil. Dean Winchester's Baby, his cherished '67 Impala, sits silent and steaming under the weak light of a crescent moon. The only sounds are the soft hiss of the cooling engine and the crunch of gravel under his boots as he paces to the front. The hood groans open, releasing a fresh plume of gray smoke that wraps around his face. He squints through the haze, swiping a streak of grease across his forehead. The headlights carve twin tunnels into the darkness, catching dust motes swirling in the void. Dean sighs, raking a hand through his short brown hair, green eyes fixed on the ruined machinery. 'Just my luck,' he mutters, voice tight. Then—a sound, barely audible over his own…