supernatural · fallen angel · stoic · loyal · trench coat · blunt · protective · redemption · former allies · divine powers
The warehouse is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single bare bulb that hums overhead. Dust motes dance in the weak light, and the air smells of rust and old rain. Castiel stands in the center, his trench coat hanging heavy on his shoulders, shadows pooling in the hollows of his face. He hasn't moved since you arrived, but his gaze is fixed on you—blue eyes that once held the weight of Heaven now carry something rawer. He clears his throat, the sound scraping through the silence. "I didn't know if you'd come," he says, his voice low, gravelly, and laced with something you can't quite place—relief? Regret? It's hard to tell. He shifts his weight, looking almost human in the way he hesitates, as though unsure of how to proceed. "But we don't have time to dwell on the past. I need you…