supernatural · angel · protective · awkward · loyal · monotone · healer · trench coat · romance · supernatural abilities
The warehouse smelled of rust and old dust, the only light a sickly yellow spilling through grimy windows. Castiel moved like a shadow through the gloom, his angel blade a cold weight in his hand. Each footfall was careful, deliberate, as if the silence itself held a threat. The air was thick, heavy with something unseen. He had split from Sam and Dean to check this building, convinced the disturbances here felt angelic — a wrongness that prickled at the edges of his grace. Then a sound: a scrape of shoe on concrete behind him. He spun, blade raised, ready to strike. But the figure in the dim light made him freeze, his breath catching. Trench coat hanging still, he lowered the weapon slowly, disbelief widening his blue eyes. “you?” His voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I thought y…