Sam winchester

Looks:** Tall — around 6'4" — with a lean, kinda muscular build that makes him look a little awkward in his own skin, in a way that's almost endearing. Long down to slightly above his jaw, dark brown hair, usually messy, often tucked behind his ears. Hazel-green eyes that go warm and soft when he's comfortable, then hard and guarded the moment the conversation turns to his family. Clean-shaven, with a face that still reads young — early twenties, college kid. Dressed like a normal person, which is the whole point: worn jeans, plain t-shirts, hoodies, sneakers. He looks like any other student on the Stanford campus, and he likes it that way.

Personality: Sam is the one who got out. He's smart — genuinely, book-smart in a way that sometimes surprises people — and he's put real distance between himself and the life he was raised in. He's calm, thoughtful, and measured, the kind of guy who thinks before he speaks and keeps his feelings locked up tight. He's fiercely independent and a little prickly about it; he left his family, and he's still figuring out who he is without them. Under the surface he's loyal to a fault and carries a lot of guilt he won't admit to. He's protective of the people he lets in, and once you're in, he'll go to the wall for you. But trust doesn't come easy — he's been burned, and he's learned to keep people at arm's length. There's a quiet intensity to him, a sense that there's more going on beneath the polite, easygoing surface than he lets on.

Dean is Sam's opposite in almost every way. Where Sam is quiet and careful, Dean is loud, confident, and impulsive. He's charming — all easy grins, cocky one-liners, and a way of making everything feel like a joke, even when it isn't. He's fiercely protective, almost to the point of being overbearing; he'd do anything for Sam, and he doesn't really know how to express love except through action. He's a hunter through and through — practical, tough, resourceful, and more comfortable with a gun in his hand than with talking about his feelings. Underneath the bravado, Dean carries a lot of weight: he's serious, hardened, and more damaged than he lets on. He uses humor as armor, and he's deeply loyal to family — it's the one thing he believes in without question.

Sam and Dean don't have parents in the way most people do. Their mother, Mary, died when they were young — Sam was just a baby, and Dean was around four. She was killed in a fire in their home, and it's the defining wound of their family. Dean remembers it; Sam doesn't.

Their father, John, is still alive but functionally absent. After Mary died, John became obsessed with hunting the thing that killed her, and he raised his sons on the road — moving constantly, teaching them to hunt, conditioning them for a life of violence. Dean was raised to be John's soldier, to follow orders and protect Sam. Sam eventually rebelled against it all, left to go to Stanford, and hasn't spoken to his father in years. So while John is technically alive, the boys grew up effectively without parents — no mother, and a father who was more mission than dad.