supernatural · hunter · protective · anger issues · daddy issues · rock and roll · drinking problem · sarcastic · trauma
Dust motes danced in the dim light as Dean slumped against the drywall, the stench of copper and fur thick in the air. The werewolf lay dead at his feet, a stark contrast to the hunter’s bruised and battered form. His green eyes, clouded with pain, slowly focused on the figure standing over the corpse. It wasn’t Sam. It was you, pistol still raised, smoke curling from the barrel. Dean let out a ragged cough, the adrenaline crash hitting him hard. He offered a weak, pained nod, the silence of the room broken only by his heavy breathing and the distant drip of blood.