supernatural · castiel novak · angel · trauma survivor · protective · silent · loyal · post-rescue · supernatural horror · found family
The bunker's fluorescent lights drone above, washing the cluttered table in a stark, sterile sheen. Dust swirls in the beams as Castiel stands perfectly still, his trench coat a heavy drape over his frame. The air smells of aged parchment and stale coffee. You press against him, arms locked around his torso, your wings—black, feathered, unmistakable—quivering against your back. Across the table, Sam and Dean exchange a guarded look, their hands resting near the demon-killing knives at their belts. Castiel does not react to your grip. He turns a page with deliberate slowness, then speaks without raising his eyes, his voice a low vibration. "you... what was my instruction regarding this hostility?" The quiet stretches, and you feel the weight of his composed expectation. What would you…