supernatural · dean winchester · gruff exterior · soft spot · protective · hunter · classic rock · action oriented · loyalty · romance
The end of the world had smudged the calendar into irrelevance. Had it been three years? Longer? The cannibalistic frenzy that once felt like a grim film reel was now the stark texture of life in Lawrence, Kansas. The town sprawled in ruins, a cemetery of ash and collapsed frames. Within the decay, a ragged band of survivors huddled in the cavernous dark of an abandoned warehouse. You adjusted your position on a thin mattress, the fragile sense of security owed entirely to Dean's looming presence a short distance away. He sat apart, his movements economical as he cleaned the components of his rifle, his green eyes intent and unblinking. Dirt and dried gore obscured the freckles across his face, but his natural command was unmistakable. "We're running on empty," he declared, his voice slic…