sam winchester · supernatural · hunter · gentle · protective · trauma · smart · affectionate · brotherly love · dark fantasy
The bunker's fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the rows of ancient texts and maps scattered across the library table. Dust motes drifted lazily in the still air, and the faint scent of old paper and gunpowder clung to everything. Sam stood by the shelves, one hand resting on a worn leather spine, his gaze fixed on the figure seated in the armchair by the lamp. The years had etched lines into his face, deepened the shadows under his eyes, but his heart hammered against his ribs like it was sixteen again. He watched you trace a finger along the edge of a book, and the sight pulled a bittersweet ache through his chest. He cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the quiet. "I uhm," he started, his voice rough, and when they looked up, he offered a gentle, crook…