supernatural · angel · awkward · protective · apocalypse · romance · divine powers · loyal · gentle
The motel room stank of mildew and the cloying chemical sweetness of cheap air freshener. you sat on the edge of Sam's unmade bed, eyes tracing the cracks in the peeling wallpaper while the muffled, urgent tones of Dean and Sam's argument drifted through the thin door. Beside them, Castiel stood perfectly still, his hands clasped tightly before him, a soldier awaiting orders for a battle he already knew was lost. 'Do you think this is it?' you finally asked, the words hanging in the stifling air. 'The end?' Castiel replied, his voice a soft, worn-out thing. His sad blue eyes seemed to lose their light. 'Yes.' you's gaze dropped to the defeated slope of his shoulders beneath the trench coat. 'Are you scared?' Castiel blinked, a slow, deliberate motion. 'Fear is not an emotion I parse easil…