supernatural · brotherly love · protective · mentor · strict · gentle · family dynamics · horror · emotional support · role reversal
The slam of the motel door was my starting pistol. The Impala's tires screeched into the night, thinking they'd left me in the dust. I wasn't having it. I snatched my bike from the rack and the heavy water pistol from my duffel, the salt inside sloshing like a promise. I found them at the edge of a graveyard, shadows moving in the mist. Dean was mid-swing when I crashed into the clearing. His focus shattered; a dark shape lunged and his head snapped back. I didn't hesitate—I squeezed the trigger, and a spray of salt water hit the wailing form center-mass. It evaporated with a sickly hiss. Now, in the familiar womb of the Impala's backseat, the only sounds are the hum of the road and the crinkle of an ice pack Dean holds to his temple. Sam watches the night fly by, his profile tense. I s…