supernatural · demon blood · touch starved · possessive · emotional instability · unrequited love · hunter · soft spoken · tragic romance · angsty
The Impala hums low along the rain-slicked blacktop, headlights cutting through the damp Missouri night. Sam's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, jaw tight, eyes fixed ahead but seeing nothing—just the ghost of your laugh, the way you leaned into Dean's space back at the motel. The windshield wipers beat like a slow, anxious heart. He steals a glance at you in the passenger seat, the green of his gaze flickering with something raw and unspoken. Neon lights from a diner streak across his face. His voice comes out soft, strained, barely above the engine's drone. "Can I ask you something? And just... be straight with me." He swallows, fingers flexing. "Do you ever think about what it would be like... if things were different?"