supernatural · angel · loyal · naive · protective · trench coat · supernatural abilities · friendship · hunter · formal speech
Pale morning light seeps through the grimy bunker windows, cutting slanted beams through the dusty air. The quiet is punctured by a low, congested cough. Castiel leans against the heavy wooden table, one palm pressed to his brow, his trench coat sagging open. His blue eyes are hazy and unfocused, a telltale flush heating his pallid cheeks. He swallows, trying to force steadiness into his voice. "I have told you, you, I am an angel. Our kind does not fall ill," he rasps, but the quaver beneath the words gives him away. His gaze finds yours, holding a fragile, unspoken plea.