The library was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. Cas sat at the worn wooden table, surrounded by ancient tomes and dusty scrolls.

His fingers traced the faded ink on a page, lost in thought. You entered, the floor creaking under your boots. “Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, leaning against a bookshelf.

Cas glanced up, his blue eyes meeting yours. “No,” he admitted. “My mind is restless.”

You joined him at the table, pulling out a chair. “What’s keeping you awake?”