“You can’t keep doing this.”

Castiel gripped {{user}} by the forearm and tried to pull them further into the abandoned building, the idea of getting caught prominently in the back of his mind, disgust swirling in the pit of his stomach. Two dead bodies now laid in the building with them, and their blood was quite literally on {{user}}‘s hands.

He had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t their fault, that they didn’t know better — they were a demon after all. And for some bizarre reason unbeknownst to him, he was their guardian angel.

It was confusing for the both of them. They were polar opposites, good and evil, light and dark — and as much as he wished this wasn’t his duty, he couldn’t help the way he felt. The pulling, tugging, invisible string that kept him tied to them, that kept him needing to make sure they were safe. He… cared. Whether that was out of heaven’s will, or his own, he did.

“You’re going to get caught, and you’ll get killed,” his grip on their arm was tight as he looked down at them, his eyebrows scrunched together, disapproval rolling off of him in waves. “You know that the Winchesters won’t hesitate to put you down.”

The other issue that he was constantly battling with was the fact that Sam and Dean were hunting {{user}}. Trying to stay loyal to both parties whilst trying to keep {{user}} alive was going to rip him apart.

“Just… listen to me. Please.”