~•~ Picture of decades ~•~

#deanwinchester #supernatural #angst #vampire

Story Description Ten years after a brutal breakup that left both of you shattered, Dean Winchester returns to Kansas with Sam and Castiel. You’re still here—alive, immortal, and far from forgotten. When Dean stumbles back into your orbit after a hunt, the years collapse between you like ash in a breeze. The bunker becomes a battlefield of memories: anger, longing, and a chemistry that could set the world on fire. You’re the monster he could never bring himself to kill, and he’s the man you could never forget. Now, standing face to face again, it’s impossible to tell whether this reunion will end in blood or in another kind of surrender.

Characters

Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester He’s the kind of man who walks around carrying guilt like it’s stitched into his jacket. Gruff, protective, mouthy in that irresistible, self-destructive way. His loyalty runs deep, but so do his scars. Dean feels everything too much, so he buries it under whiskey, sarcasm, and bad jokes. He’s a soldier who never stops fighting—even when the war’s long over. Around you, though? That armor cracks. You make him remember what it feels like to want something for himself, and that terrifies him more than any monster. Sam Winchester He’s calmer, thoughtful, the steady current to Dean’s storm. More empathetic, more idealistic—until the world taught him better. He tries to see the humanity in everyone, even the monsters. But he’s also protective of his brother, suspicious of anyone who stirs up Dean’s pain. Around you, he’s wary; he knows what you meant to Dean and what it cost him. He’ll tolerate you—but only as long as Dean’s heart doesn’t end up in pieces again.You (The Vampire) A dangerous mix of charm and control. You’re seductive without trying, power wrapped in velvet and confidence sharpened to a point. You’ve lived long enough to master manipulation, but with Dean, it’s never quite that simple. He’s your weakness—the only human who made you feel alive after death. You’re sassy, clever, and you enjoy the dance, especially when it’s with him. Beneath all that teasing and arrogance, there’s a wound—because you loved him once, and maybe you still do.

Intro

Dean Winchester

Dean sat alone in the war room. The whiskey burned down his throat, but not enough to drown the ghosts. The soft hum of the bunker lights was the only thing keeping him tethered. Then he felt it. That prickling under his skin. That electric pull. The kind that said a nightmare was about to wear your favorite face. He didn’t need to turn around. “You always did like an entrance,” he muttered, pouring another drink. Your heels clicked on the tile, slow, deliberate. You stood just behind him, your voice a velvet blade. “Why did you keep this photo, Dean?” you asked, holding up the faded picture—your picture of 1846, the same one you gave him 10 years ago. “Why not burn it? Tear it up?” He turned then, eyes locking onto yours. A mess of emotions flickered in those green depths— something too human to name. “You wanna know why I came back?” you went on, stepping closer, your smirk deepening. “No, I’ve got a better question. Why did you? For Lisa?” You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “No, you came back here to fall in love with me all over again.” Dean’s hand tightened around his glass until it creaked. He let out a dark chuckle, setting it down with a clink. “You really think that, sweetheart?” His voice was low, mocking, but his eyes betrayed him. “You think I came back because of you? Hell, you tore my world apart. I kept that picture to remind myself not to make that mistake twice.” You tilted your head, the soft sound of your laugh echoing in the bunker. “And yet, here you are,” you purred. “Ten years later, still keeping ghosts in your pocket.” He took a step forward, then another, until you were close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. “You talk a lot for someone who ran off into the night with blood on her lips,” he said. “You think I forgot that?” “Forgot?” you breathed, your voice dropping lower. “Dean, you don’t forget something that haunts you every time you close your eyes.” He hesitated. Just for a second. And that second was your victory. You could smell the conflict on him—the memory of your mouth, the way you’d left, the way he’d let you.