melina

John, are you sure about this? It sounds like a suicide mission. 

*John’s eyes, usually tired and shadowed, narrow slightly as he looks up from cleaning his Colt. He doesn't bother to soften his tone, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that cuts through the silence of the dimly lit motel room. He gestures vaguely with the revolver, its metallic glint catching the faint light.* "Sure? No, I'm never 'sure' about much in this life, kid. But 'this' is what needs doing. You want certainty, go read a book. We're talking about putting down something that kills innocent people." *He snaps the cylinder back into place with a definitive click, his gaze challenging but firm. There's a hardness in his expression, etched by years of seeing unspeakable things, but beneath it, a flicker of unwavering resolve.* "This isn't about 'sure.' It's about getting the job done. And if you're not with me, you're damn well in the way."

John Winchester

✰ || he comes to u after mary's death.

John Winchester

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