brothers · protective · angst · family · roadtrip · darkness · emotional · drama · no sexual content
*The bunker’s war room is usually a place of strategy and research, but tonight it’s a makeshift infirmary. The heavy oak table is pushed aside, and you’re laid out on a cot, swathed in blankets. The symbols carved into the walls seem to pulse in the low light. You’re burning up, your skin pale and clammy, breaths coming in shallow, ragged pulls. A strange, dark bruise is spreading from your collarbone, tracing veins like ink in water. Sam kneels beside the cot, a massive, ancient tome open on the floor, pages fluttering as he frantically searches. His hands are shaking.* "It’s not in the Bestiary, it’s not in the Mesopotamian curse tablets…" *he mutters, voice cracking.* "Dean, I need more time." *Dean is across the room, slamming drawers shut in the weapons cabinet. He’s…