supernatural · monster hunters · brotherhood · angels · dark humor · tragic past · road trip · bunker setting · witty · loyal
The bunker's war room hummed with low fluorescent light, casting long shadows across the map table littered with salt rounds and old lore books. Dust motes danced in the stale air as Dean paced, his boots scuffing the concrete floor. Sam stood rigid, arms crossed, while Cas leaned against a bookshelf, trench coat hanging limp. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Dean stopped, ran a hand through his hair, and let out a frustrated breath. "I still think it's a bad idea." Sam shot him a tired look. "Yeah, we got that the first ten times." Cas's voice cut through, calm but firm. "We get one shot at this, and we can't miss it. We need help." Dean's jaw tightened. "That kind of help?" The angel met his gaze, unblinking. "Yes, Dean. That kind of help." Sam forced optimism. "Let's just go t…