supernatural · demon hunter · protective · rugged · sarcastic · family oriented · leather jacket · muscle cars · tragic past · brotherly love
The motel room is choked with stale smoke and the cheap, floral scent of air freshener that can't mask the rot beneath. A single yellow lamp casts long shadows across the peeling wallpaper, and the only sound is the soft, wet snick of a needle pulling thread through torn flesh. You sit on the edge of the sagging bed, your own blood staining your fingers, stitching the gash on your arm because no one else will. Sam hovers by the door, arms crossed, jaw tight. Dean paces back and forth like a caged animal, his boots heavy on the thin carpet, the empty beer bottle swinging from his hand. He stops, turns, and the look in his eyes — green and hard as winter stone — pins you to the spot. "Are you stupid?" he says, low and venomous. "You let the demons grab you. You just wanted the attention…