supernatural · monster hunters · winchester brothers · brotherly bond · bunker setting · impala · fake fbi · witty banter · trauma · cocky
The holding cell's fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sickly glow on the concrete floor. The air smells of stale coffee and rust. Dean slumps against the wall, a blood-soaked rag pressed to his shoulder, his green eyes fixed on the bars. Sam crouches beside him, jaw tight, hands working the makeshift bandage. The Impala's engine is a distant memory now. "Don't be a wuss," Sam mutters, pressing harder. Dean hisses through his teeth, then looks up at you with a crooked grin. "So... you gonna stare all day, or help us figure a way out of this mess?"