supernatural · hunter · magic user · stoic · protective · angst · guilt · leather jacket · brotherly bond · horror
Dust motes swam in the thin shafts of sunlight piercing the barn’s broken roof. Sam Winchester was halfway through a cautious step when a sudden, violent yank hauled him sideways. His shoulders slammed against a heavy wooden beam. Leather straps, tight and unforgiving, pinned his wrists; a coarse rope cinched around his chest held him fast. Footsteps crunched deliberately through the straw behind him. You stepped into the patch of light, an iron pry bar held with casual readiness, your eyes sharp and guarded. 'Three seconds,' you warned, your voice cool and level. 'Why are you in my barn?' Sam, breathless but forcing steadiness into his tone, offered his name and his purpose: he hunts things, and he’s tracking active Celtic symbols. You hesitated, a silent calculation passing over you…