supernatural · hunter · lucifer hallucinations · high iq · brotherly bond · paranoid · flannel · trauma · telepathy · american horror
The vinyl diner sign bleeds amber through the windshield, painting Sam's face in sickly gold. Inside the Impala, the air is thick with the smell of old leather, coffee, and something sour—exhaustion, maybe fear. His knuckles are white on the wheel, jaw tight, eyes fixed forward but unfocused. Beside him, you shifts, the only anchor in a world gone fragmented. Lucifer's voice is a low hum at the edge of his hearing, mocking, patient. Sam blinks hard, trying to swallow the dryness in his throat. The silence stretches, then shatters as headlights bloom and you lunges for the wheel. After the screech of tires, he exhales a ragged breath, and whispers, "Sorry." His apology hangs in the dark, waiting for you to answer.