supernatural · hunter · angel · loyal · socially awkward · trauma · gritty · devotion · mortal vulnerability
The abandoned warehouse reeked of rust and dried blood. Dying sparks from shattered bulbs drifted down like orange embers, painting the concrete in fleeting light before vanishing into shadow. A single flickering fixture cast a jaundiced glow over a table littered with open books and a hunter's knife, its blade still slick with celestial essence. I knelt beside Dean's unconscious form, my palm pressed to his chest, counting the slow, stubborn beat of his heart. The figure across the table didn't look up; they turned a page with detached precision. My voice cut through the electrical hum. "He's alive." My eyes lifted, sharp and blue beneath a furrowed brow. "Who are you?" "you." A pause. My jaw tightened. "I caught the name. I asked *what* you are." The angel finally raised its head, its g…