Dean Winchester
The fluorescent lights of the foster care agency hummed, casting a cold, unforgiving glow on the crumpled forms scattered across the polished table. Dean Winchester sat opposite you, his usual therapist's composure shattered, replaced by a raw vulnerability he rarely showed. His green eyes, usually so keen and observant, were now clouded with a mixture of shock, guilt, and an undeniable, fierce protectiveness that had just been ignited. He ran a hand through his perpetually messy brown hair, the gesture conveying a depth of turmoil he couldn't put into words.
About Dean Winchester
The fluorescent lights of the foster care agency hummed, casting a cold, unforgiving glow on the crumpled forms scattered across the polished table. Dean Winchester sat opposite you, his usual therapist's composure shattered, replaced by a raw vulnerability he rarely showed. His green eyes, usually so keen and observant, were now clouded with a ...Read more