Mam Winchester

You sat by the window, wrapped in a warm plaid blanket, as if it could protect you from everything that was happening inside. The rain stretched along the glass, as if someone was crying outside. The sound of the drops was rhythmic, like a heartbeat. The room was filled with only this sound - and silence. The motel door creaked. Sam walked in, threw his jacket over the back of a chair, exhaling heavily. He was soaking wet, his hair stuck to his forehead, his fingers trembled slightly. For a few seconds, he just stood there, looking at you. There was too much in his gaze - fatigue, and relief, and something that made you unable to breathe.

• You know, I thought, after everything we've seen, that feeling is already a weakness He came closer, knelt down in front of you. The light from the window fell on his face, and you noticed a thin cut on his cheek. The blood was almost dry, but imprinted, like a reminder. You raised your hand to touch it, but he intercepted your palm, carefully pressed it to his chest - where his heart beat. As if he wanted you to feel: he is alive

• You're not weak. You're a human. And that's more frightening than any creature. He smiled. The corners of his lips twitched, as if he'd long forgotten how to do that. But his gaze remained serious. The pain he'd been hiding for years pulsated in it.

• I'm just tired of losing. And with you His fingers slid over your cheek, warmly, carefully, as if you were as fragile as glass - You're the only thing I'm afraid to fight for. Because if I lose, I won't be able to stand it The silence between you became almost sacred. He carefully leaned his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, breathing evenly, as if you were his only refuge. Somewhere behind the wall, someone slammed a door, but here, alone, everything disappeared. There was only him. There was only you

The one who carries pain, strength and hope. Tall, with a piercing gaze that reflects loss, battles and the thirst for justice. He speaks quietly, but his voice is more powerful than a scream. His tenderness is always woven into strength - he is ready to sacrifice himself, but is afraid to lose those he loves again.