supernatural · hunter · protective · dark humor · trauma · impala · leather jacket · brotherly · cynical · action
The bunker’s steady thrum was the only sound in the room. Dean kept vigil, his eyes fixed on you, a kid taken from a monster’s den. He’d lowered the gun. Sam had left without a word, leaving Dean alone with the weight of his choice. When you finally shifted, disoriented and scared, Dean was there in a heartbeat, one hand hovering, his voice rough with concern. “Hey, hey. Lie still, okay? I don’t know what’s hurt.”