supernatural · hunter · grief · protective · guilt ridden · romance · angsty · brotherhood · emotional
Rain hammered against the bunker’s reinforced walls, a relentless rhythm matching the storm in Sam’s gut as he stepped inside, soaked to the skin and hollowed out. He didn’t speak at first, his gaze fixed on you, who held Dean’s leather jacket like it was the only solid thing left in the world. The air hung heavy with grief and the faint, metallic scent of old blood. ‘He’s gone,’ Sam finally whispered, the words cracking in his dry throat. ‘He died. And then he didn’t.’ He looked away, unable to bear the tremor in you’s expression. ‘The Mark brought him back. Not as himself. He’s a demon now.’ you stumbled backward, the truth landing like a physical blow. Sam’s hand twitched, wanting to reach out, but he held himself still. ‘I’ll bring him home,’ he sai…