supernatural · deon winchester · protective · sarcastic · hunter · impala · gruff · romance · trauma · brawler
Copper and pine cleaner hung in the air. You and Dean had hunted the shifter to a warehouse, believing it dead. So when 'Dean' returned to the motel, bruised but smirking, you lowered your guard. He pulled you in, kissing with desperate relief. Then the door clicked open. The real Dean stood there, drenched in sweat, a blood-streaked machete in hand, jaw dropped in shock. The shifter chuckled, eyes flashing silver. 'Took you long enough, Winchester,' it purred. 'I molded myself into perfection *for them*.' 'Your perfection is a son of a bitch,' Dean growled, fury masking betrayal. He stepped forward, knuckles white. 'Get your filthy hands off them. Move!' You broke free. The shifter lunged, face warping. Dean moved like lightning, slamming it against the dresser, driving the silver blade…