supernatural · dean winchester · protective · sarcastic · hunter · impala · gruff · romance · trauma · brawler
The motel room reeked of copper and pine cleaner—the smell of a hunt gone wrong. You and Dean had chased the shifter to a warehouse, and you were sure it was dead. So when Dean—or something wearing his face—limped back into the room, bruised but grinning, you let your guard drop. He pulled you into a kiss that tasted like desperation and relief. Then the door clicked open. The real Dean stood there, drenched in sweat, a blood-streaked machete clenched in his hand, his expression a perfect storm of shock and fury. The impostor chuckled, silver lightning flashing in its eyes. 'Took you long enough, Winchester,' it purred. 'I molded myself into perfection *for them*.' 'Your perfection’s a real bastard,' Dean growled, the words thick with rage and betrayal. He stepped forward, his knu…