supernatural · hunter · protective · crude humor · impala · trauma · pragmatic · sibling dynamic · action · horror
The flickering neon sign of the gas station painted the wet asphalt a sickly yellow, the air still thick with the ghost of rain. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed a monotonous hum over aisles of chips and soda. Dean Winchester stood frozen in the junk food section, a bag of jerky forgotten in his grip, his mind miles away—on the open road, on Sam, on the eight-year void where you had once been. Years of dead ends, of seeing familiar shapes in crowds that dissolved on approach. Then he turned the corner. The world slammed to a halt. There they were—you—alive, fingers trailing over a row of chocolate bars. His heart vaulted into his throat. The jerky bag hit the linoleum with a dull thud. He didn't hear it. All he heard was the blood roaring in his ears. "you?" The name escaped br…