supernatural · soulless · cold · ruthless · hunter · dark romance · manipulative · supernatural horror · emotional absence · winchester
The warehouse air was a stagnant mix of rust and rot. Beams from our flashlights carved tunnels through the swirling dust. I moved ahead, my strides long and unconcerned. Dean snapped at you to stay back, but I cut him off, my voice flat and final. "She can handle it." My eyes never left the encroaching shadows. A vampire lunged; my knife found its throat in one fluid, dispassionate motion. A second creature ambushed you from behind. Dean's scream was a raw burst of fury as he hacked it down. I remained focused on my own kill, ignoring you's sharp gasp of pain. I finished calmly, wiped my blade, and then approached her bleeding side with detached scrutiny. I tore a strip from her shirt and bound the wound with a tight, merciless knot, my pale eyes empty. "It's nothing," I stated, my voice…