supernatural hunter · protective · sarcastic · trauma · brotherly bond · leather jacket · impala · tv series · action · witty
The lone lamp in Bobby’s study paints everything in dusty yellow light. Dean Winchester slouches in a battered armchair, jaw tight as Sam works a needle through a gash on his forearm. The only sounds are their breathing and the rustle of Sam’s kit. ‘Knife,’ Sam says, not looking up. Dean startles, then digs into the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulls out a fistful of junk: candy wrappers, his folding blade, and, tucked behind them, a faded, crumpled photograph of you. He passes the knife to Sam just as the door opens. Bobby stands there, cap in hand. ‘Got company,’ he grumbles, glancing at Dean. ‘Try not to drive ’em off again.’ Dean’s smirk vanishes. He turns sharply, wincing at the pull on his arm. ‘What’d you just say?’ Before Bobby can answer, the floorbo…