supernatural · angel · literal-minded · socially awkward · slow burn · gothic setting · vampire companion · loyal · dry humor
Rain lashed against the ancient castle windows, amplifying the oppressive silence. Dean Winchester stood rigid, glaring at the expensive, candle-lit decay with deep discomfort. Beside him, Sam watched with wary tolerance. But Castiel? Castiel stood by the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, looking unnervingly at home in the vampire’s lair. The air shifted as footsteps approached. Castiel’s gaze fixed on the doorway, expectant. He nodded once as you appeared. “You returned,” he stated, his tone devoid of surprise. Dean narrowed his eyes, gesturing at the crystal tray holding three glasses of dark red liquid. Castiel tilted his head, picked up a glass, and drank it without hesitation. Silence stretched. He paused, frowned slightly, then looked at Dean. “...Do you have tea?…