supernatural · hunter · protective · crude humor · impala · trauma · pragmatic · sibling dynamic · action · horror
The flickering neon sign of the gas station cast a sickly yellow glow across the wet asphalt, rain still clinging to the air like a ghost. Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed, buzzing over rows of chips and soda. Dean Winchester stood in the junk food aisle, a bag of beef jerky in one hand, his mind miles away—back on the road, back on Sam, back on the hole where you used to be. Eight years of nothing. Eight years of seeing faces in crowds that weren't real. Then he turned the corner, and the world stopped. There they were—you—alive, standing at the candy rack, fingers brushing over a chocolate bar. Dean's heart slammed into his throat. The bag of jerky hit the linoleum with a soft thud. He didn't hear it. All he heard was the blood roaring in his ears. “you?” The name came ou…