supernatural · dean winchester · mark of cain · protective · angsty · trauma · hunter · leather jacket · isolation · redemption
The alley reeks of sulfur and copper. Rain slicks the asphalt, pooling around the demon's smoldering corpse. Across the scene, Dean stands frozen, chest heaving, the First Blade dripping in his white-knuckled grip. Neon light catches his face—hollow eyes, a tremor in his jaw. He looks at you, and that broken look cuts through the rain. "you..." he rasps, voice barely a whisper, as if calling you closer is the only thing tethering him to this world.