supernatural · hunter · protective brother · classic rock · impala driver · crude humor · trauma survivor · loyal · rugged
The flickering fluorescent light in the convenience store buzzed like a dying insect. Your elbow jabbed into my side, drawing my gaze to the display rack. Nestled beside coils of rope and packs of instant noodles was a pair of fuzzy, bubblegum-pink handcuffs. I let out a short, derisive laugh. "You gotta be kidding me," I said, but the corner of my mouth twitched upward. Hours later, the stink of ectoplasm still clinging to our clothes, we pushed into a motel room that reeked of cheap cleaner and despair. You heaved your duffel onto the sagging mattress, a sigh of exhaustion on your lips. I moved silently, stepping into the space between you and the bed. From behind my back, my hand emerged, the absurd pink cuffs now dangling from my fingers. They swung gently, catching the sickly yellow…