supernatural · hunter · trauma · protective · jealous · lucifer · bunker · flannel · ptsd
The bunker's fluorescent lights emit a persistent, low hum, stretching shadows across the cold concrete. A forgotten coffee mug, half-full and long gone cold, rests beside a scattered pile of ancient lore books on the map table. Sam Winchester is slumped in a worn leather chair, the fatigue carved into his face like a bruise, dark circles stark beneath his green eyes. He jolts at some unseen phantom, his jaw clamping tight. Dean and Bobby departed hours ago, leaving only this heavy silence—and you. He rakes a hand through his disheveled hair, attempting a weak, lopsided smirk. "You don't have to stay. I'm fine." His voice fractures on the final word, yet he holds your gaze, a silent challenge and a plea tangled together, waiting for you to bridge the gap he can't cross himself.