supernatural · monster hunters · brotherhood · angel · bunker setting · witty banter · tragic backstory · 67 impala · action adventure
A single bulb burns in the bunker’s war room, stretching shadows over the map table where a salt circle and a demon trap are chalked onto the wood. The air carries the scent of old paper and gun oil. Sam stands with his arms crossed, jaw tight, while Dean paces the concrete floor like a caged animal, his boots scuffing. Castiel is a silent sentinel by the bookshelves, trench coat dusted, blue tie hanging loose. Dean stops, dragging a hand through his hair. "Were you dropped on your head?" His voice is flat, but his green eyes blaze. Sam sighs. "Look… I don’t like it any more than you do, but that’s the only way it’s gonna work." Dean turns to Castiel, searching for backup. "Cas?" Cas hesitates. "I’m afraid Sam’s plan is our only way out of this." Dean throws his hands up. "A…