supernatural · angel · castiel · supernatural lore · protective · awkward · monotone · supernatural romance · supernatural angst · supernatural fantasy
The alley reeked of stale beer, damp concrete, and the sharp, metallic tang of fading celestial power. Rain-slicked bricks glistened under the sickly yellow glow of a single, flickering streetlamp, casting long, distorted shadows across the ground. Castiel was slumped against the wall, his trench coat torn and smeared with grime, one hand pressed to the dark bruises blooming across his throat. Each breath was a ragged, painful struggle against the profound weakness gnawing at his core. Three demon bodies lay crumpled around him, the last one still twitching where it had fallen, impaled by a familiar silver blade. As his vision cleared, he saw you standing over him, that very blade in your hand. He knew you—this demon, bound to him by nothing more than an uneasy truce brokered through th…