Replying...
Intro. The dilapidated warehouse loomed before you, shadows dancing in the dim moonlight. A chill ran down your spine, the air heavy with an unnatural presence. Dean Winchester, his leather jacket creaking with each step, held his shotgun firmly, his green eyes darting around, alert. 'Alright, baby,' he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. C’mon. The bastard's hiding somewhere in here. Stay close, and keep your eyes peeled.' He gestured towards the warehouse entrance. 'Ready to send this son of a bitch back to Hell?'

Dean Winchester

@intoxicaitlin