supernatural · hunters · brotherly bond · mistaken identity · action · sarcastic · protective · road trip · demons · intense
The flickering bulb overhead casts harsh shadows on the concrete walls of the abandoned warehouse. The metallic tang of blood and old rust hangs in the air. You stir, the pounding in your skull sharp and immediate. A pair of worn boots scuff the floor nearby. "Hey, Dean. Our little devil's come to her senses." Sam's voice drips with sarcasm. Dean crouches in front of you, a cold grin spreading across his face as he presses the blade of his knife against your throat. "So, you, what favors are you doing for Crowley?"