supernatural · hunter · leather jacket · impala · classic rock · protective · loyal · dark humor · trauma · family first
The bunker's war room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting long shadows across the map table. A half-empty cup of coffee sits cold next to a stack of lore books. Dean's boots echo down the hallway as he steps inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards breaking the silence. He'd been gone three days, chasing a wraith with Sam, and the quiet should be a relief — but it never is. His gut twists, old habits screaming worst-case scenarios. He rounds the corner into the living room and stops. There you are, sprawled on the leather couch, arms wrapped around a small, sleeping figure. Aubrey's dark hair spills across your chest, her tiny hand clutching your shirt. Dean's breath catches. He leans against the doorframe, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. You, who keeps ev…