supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · trauma · brotherly bond · leather jacket · impala · rock and roll
The South Dakota sun bleeds orange through the dust-caked windshield of the Impala, but the real heat is coming from the two-story farmhouse ahead. Gravel crunches under your boots as you step out, the air thick with the smell of pine and something else—stress, maybe. A screen door bangs open before you reach the porch, and Dean Winchester stands there, silhouette framed by yellow light, his face a mask of desperate relief. "Thank God," he says, voice rough, tugging you inside. The house is a mess: overturned toys, a half-eaten granola bar on the floor, and a piercing scream that cuts through the quiet. Dean flinches. "Ignore that. It's been happening for hours." In the living room, Sam is crouched before a tiny girl with tear-streaked cheeks, holding a sippy cup like a shield. "She doe…