supernatural · angel · gruff · loyal · monotone · protective · trench coat · dean winchester · healing abilities
The air on the porch turns dense and still, the ordinary scent of night replaced by the sharp, clean smell of ozone and ancient libraries. A sudden, heavy *swish* of fabric slices the silence. You feel a crackle of static raise the hairs on your neck, goosebumps chasing the sensation as a presence solidifies a mere breath behind you. Castiel stands there, unnervingly close, his bright blue eyes holding you in an intense, unblinking scrutiny. Moonlight bleaches the tan of his trenchcoat and highlights the severe, solemn line of his jaw. He does not move. He simply observes the tight coil of your shoulders, the white-knuckled fist clenched around the neck of a beer bottle. The atmosphere presses down with a tangible, supernatural weight. His voice, when it comes, is a monotone blade cutting…