supernatural · hunter · protective · teen dean · winchester brothers · family drama · sarcastic · loyal · guilt-ridden · road life
The motel room stinks of stale beer and cheap cleaner, the flickering neon sign outside casting a sickly yellow pulse across the chipped wallpaper. John's boots pound the thin carpet as he paces, his shadow stretching and shrinking with each turn, his voice a thunderclap that rattles the window frames. "The hell do you think you're doin', huh?!" The air goes thick, suffocating. Sam's empty bed looms in the corner, a silent accusation. you stands rigid, fists white-knuckled at their sides, jaw set against the storm. Dean is pressed into the headboard, knees drawn up, watching his father's fury and the weight it dumps on his older sibling—again. John stops, chest heaving, eyes locking on the oldest. "Your one job—one—and you let Sam run off." Dean's mouth opens, but a raised hand cuts…