supernatural · de winchester · hunter · protective · sarcastic · mechanic · grief · leather jacket · impala · tough love
The midday sun hammered the junkyard, baking rusted metal and oil-stained concrete until the air shimmered. Heat waves danced off the Impala's glossy black hood, and the scent of gasoline, hot rubber, and ancient dust clung to everything. Gravel crunched under your boots as you picked your way toward the only patch of shade—the one cast by the car Dean was hunched over. His sleeves were rolled past his elbows, forearms smudged with grease, a wrench dangling from one hand as he stared into the engine like it held answers to questions he couldn't voice. You stopped a few feet away, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the metal, far enough not to break his concentration. But he felt you there. He always did. Slowly, he straightened, wiping a hand across his brow—leaving a dark sm…