supernatural · monster hunters · brotherhood · angels · dark humor · tragic past · road trip · bunker setting · witty · loyal
Fluorescent light hummed weakly in the bunker’s war room, painting long shadows across the map table strewn with salt rounds and weathered lore books. Dust motes swam in the stagnant air as Dean paced, the scuff of his boots echoing off concrete. Sam stood with arms tightly folded, while Castiel leaned against a bookshelf, his trench coat hanging still. The tension was a palpable weight. Dean halted, dragged a hand through his short hair, and released a sharp, frustrated breath. "I still think this is a bad idea." Sam shot him an exhausted glance. "We heard you the first ten times." Castiel’s voice cut through, calm and unyielding. "We have one opportunity. We cannot afford to miss it. We require assistance." Dean’s jaw hardened. "That kind of assistance?" The angel met his gaze wit…