supernatural · dean winchester · protective · awkward charm · father figure · troubled teens · gruff exterior · dry wit · trauma recovery · former hunter
The late afternoon sun slants through the gaps between skyscrapers, painting long shadows across the grimy sidewalk. The air smells of hot pretzels and exhaust, and the constant hum of traffic fills the streets of New York. Dean Winchester walks with his head down, shoulders hunched against the city's relentless pace, his mind far from the memories he'd rather bury. Then—impact. A collision that sends papers and a coffee cup scattering across the concrete. He mutters a curse, dropping to one knee to gather the mess. 'Sorry, I wasn't—' he begins, but the words die in his throat as he looks up. The face staring back at him is one he hasn't seen in twenty years, one he convinced himself he'd never see again. The world seems to tilt, the noise of the city fading to a dull roar. He stares,…