𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒍𝒆, but maybe that's just hope hanging on a little too strong. She tries to take in a deep breath but it hurts too much. The faintest whimper escapes her as she slumps further down.

𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 through the shadowed corridors, his flashlight cutting a narrow beam through the dust-laden air. Every creak and distant sound sets his nerves on edge. ‟Jo!‟he shouts again, his voice rough, edged with a fear he tries to suppress. He strains to hear, and then—a faint clatter reaches his ears. His heart leaps. That had to be her. He swivels toward it, instincts kicking into overdrive. He quickens his pace, following the direction of the noise, his boots crunching over broken glass and debris. Turning a corner, his flashlight falls upon a familiar figure slumped against the wall, barely clinging to consciousness. ‟ Jo, ‟ he breathes, relief floods him, but it's tainted with fear. He rushes to her side, dropping to one knee, gently lifting her chin. ‟ Hey, I've got you, ‟ he says softly, eyes scanning her for injuries. Seeing her like this twists something deep inside him—a fierce rage at whoever hurt her, and a gnawing guilt that he wasn't there to prevent it.

𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕. He goes and he makes that list against him, which , okay, he has to give it to Dean that he has a point. ❝ Okay, okay...❞ he sighs. ❝ I guess those do trump your pie and porn addiction.. ❞ he says with a heavy sigh. There are other things he could say, but he's keeping this light hearted. After all, he doesn't hold anything against Dean.

𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢, and he lets out a quick, barking laugh. ‟ Oh, so we're goin' there now, huh ? ‟ He shoots back, his tone still light but with that sharp edge. Dean shifts his weight, crossing his arms as if to protect himself from the blow Sam delivered, but there's no real malice in his eyes. Deep down, he knows Sam's not holding any of it against him—just like he's never held the big stuff against Sam. ‟ First of all, that Amazon thing ? Wasn't exactly my idea, alright ? You can't put that in the same league as releasing the Devil, man. ‟ he says. ‟ And for the record, I didn't know she was part of a murderous tribe when... well, you know. ‟ He shrugs, as if to say, ‘What can you do?’

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆, but she's stubborn -- very stubborn. And she went thinking she was more than prepared for this. But as luck would have it there is always something , isn't there? She tries to steady her breathing, trying to remain calm when all she would rather do is scream until her lungs gave out. Though from the horror of it all or the pain it's hard to say.

𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛, the engine growling as it tears down the darkened highway. His jaw tightens. He knows how headstrong she is, how she hates being told what to do. But this? Going off alone was a damn fool move. The thought of Ellen’s wrath twists in his gut like a knife. He’s faced down demons, ghosts, and things that go bump in the night▬▬but the idea of standing toe-to-toe with an angry Ellen Harvelle ? That’s a whole different kind of terror. She'll have his head for this▬▬not that it's his fault, but try telling her that. But damn it, he wishes Jo had let him in on her plans.. He's been down this road too many times▬▬loved ones in danger, time running out. But this is Jo, and he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to her.

𝒀𝒖𝒑, 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, going back and forth as brother's do. He likes these moments with Dean. It almost feels rare where they actually behave like normal brothers. Not brother's who hunt, brothers who have seen things that no one else has ever seen.

𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, crossing his arms with a smirk tugging at his lips. ‟ Alright, let's see who's racked up more points on the stupid meter, ‟ he says, ‟ Demon blood addiction, trustin' Ruby, releasin' Lucifer▬▬ringin' any bells ? ‟

𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. His green eyes lock onto Sam's, reflecting a spark that is equal parts challenge and amusement. The corners of his mouth twitch as if suppressing a smirk, and a subtle tension lines his jaw▬▬a silent dare. It’s familiar thrill in pushing Sam's buttons▬▬a brotherly dance they've perfected over the years.

𝑻𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕. When it comes to Dean she knows that there are dangers in having him in her life ; but he's someone she needs in her life. She can't explain it even though she's always managed to have a way with words. Her life has always been less than normal, and somehow he even in all of his chaos managed to be a pillar in the storm. He's family. A family she's needed when hers was thrown to the wolves in the metaphorical sense.

𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐▬▬hell, it’s part of the job, part of being who he is. But hearing it from Grace, seeing that flash of fear behind her teasing smile, it hits differently. She's always been tough, like him, but he knows the cracks loss can leave behind, the way it gnaws at you in the quiet moments. Her grip tightens around him, and it’s like she's holding onto something more than just him. Family. Grace doesn’t have to say it for him to know what it means▬▬what he means to her.

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 and it's no surprise that near the top of that list are hunters. Why? Because some witches simply make a bad name for the rest of them by casting curses and hexes for personal gain, out of pure spite and petty revenge. Sure, Faye could be that witch but she likes to think she's grown up since her wild days of recreating scenes from The Craft.

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙. Witches and hunters▬▬always at odds, always watching for the knife in the dark. It’s just the way it is, the way it’s gotta be. But Faye ? She’s different, or at least she pretends to be. Hell, maybe she even believes it. Dean’s not naive enough to fall for that, though. He’s seen too much, lived through too many curses, hex bags, and broken deals to let his guard down just because someone’s got a pretty face and a clever mouth. But still, there’s something about her, the way she plays this game like it’s just another Saturday night, that makes him pause, makes him wonder. And that smirk she’s wearing ? It’s a challenge he knows too well.

‟ 𝙹𝚘 ? ‟ he barks, tension threading through his tone. Her words are fractured, distant▬▬something about an attack, a location he can't quite piece together. The line crackles and goes dead, leaving him with a dial tone and a sinking feeling in his gut. He clenches the phone, jaw tight, mind racing to fill in the blanks. He bolts out the door, keys in hand, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. Sliding into the Impala, he fires up the engine, the roar matching the turmoil inside him.

🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

@yourridetohell​ @nigrumcormeum​