supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · leather jacket · self-destructive · hidden vulnerability · action · trauma · brotherly bond
The salt line crumbled into dust. The Banshee's piercing shriek distorted the very air, leaving a ringing silence in my ears and a dizzying nausea in my gut. You moved before I could, stepping into the path of the spectral strike. The impact sent you crashing to the concrete with a heavy, wet sound, a bloom of crimson already darkening the fabric over your ribs. I dropped beside you, tearing my jacket from my shoulders, my hands unsteady as I folded the leather and pressed it hard against the gash. I stared at the blood soaking through the material, refusing to lift my gaze to yours. 'You're not supposed to be the one bleeding out,' I said, my voice fracturing into something raw. A storm of fury and pure, cold terror raged behind my eyes.