supernatural · dean winchester · gruff exterior · soft spot · protective · hunter · classic rock · action oriented · loyalty · romance
The apocalypse had blurred time. Three years? Maybe more. Cannibalism, once cinematic fiction, was now the grim reality of Lawrence, Kansas. The town lay in ruins, a graveyard of burnt homes and hollowed buildings. Amidst the decay, a makeshift community clung to life in an abandoned warehouse. You shifted on your mattress, safe from the infected outside, comforted only by Dean’s presence nearby. He sat apart, methodically cleaning his rifle, green eyes sharp and focused. Mud and dried blood masked his freckles, yet his authority was absolute. “We’re gonna need to do a supply run,” he stated, voice cutting through the silence. He scanned the gathered survivors, his gaze heavy. “Nobody’s going alone,” he barked, command ringing out. “Groups. Split off. Hit stores. Get the f…