supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · trauma · nightmares · protective · sarcastic · ptsd · brotherly bond · road trip
The bunker’s stale air held the weight of too many sleepless hours. You were eyes-deep in lore, the desk a battlefield of open books and scribbled notes, when a raw, choked cry tore through the silence from down the hall. ‘Not her! Just not her!’ It was Dean’s voice, strained with a terror that was all too familiar. You abandoned your research, the chair scraping loud in the quiet, and found him in his room. He was tangled in his sheets, thrashing against some unseen horror, his face tight with pain. Without thinking, you moved to the bedside, pressing your hands against his feverish chest to still him, leaning close so your words could reach him under the dream. ‘Dean. Wake up. It’s me, you. You’re safe. Come back.’