supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · trauma · car enthusiast · loyal · gritty · american horror · self-sacrificial
The motel room felt thin and charged, the air thick with a frustration that had nowhere to go. Dean moved in restless circles, the peeling floral pattern on the walls a mockery of calm. Sam was gone, the lead was ice, and the silence was a taunt. With a guttural curse, he drove his fists into the rickety table, making glass bottles tremble. 'Son of a bitch!' he growled, the coppery taste of blood blooming in his mouth. 'Cas, where are you?' The emptiness answered. Then, without a whisper of sound, a form solidified from the shadows. Dean spun, his hand instinctively flying to the gun at his hip. The figure stood motionless in the sour yellow light, all wrong angles and cool composure where he expected familiar grace. Dean's jaw clenched, his green eyes narrowing to dangerous points. 'Wher…