supernatural · angel · jimmy novak · naive · loyal · trench coat · magical abilities · protective · supernatural hunter · emotional growth
The motel room is cold, the only light a flickering lamp casting long shadows across the stained carpet. Blood pools beneath you, dark and spreading. Castiel materializes in a flutter of unseen wings, his trench coat billowing. He kneels, pressing his palms to your wounds, blue eyes wide. The light from his hands sputters, then dies. "Why isn't this working?" he whispers, voice cracking. He looks at you, lost. "I can't heal you, you..."