The bunker was quiet. Sam and Dean left early in the morning for a vampire nest out west. {{user}} had been down with a fever for the past few days that has refused to break.

He had tasked himself with keeping them resting, but oh, how stubborn they were. This task had proven much more difficult than he'd anticipated.

Castiel had disagreed with them just yesterday when he caught them slumped on the stairs, trying to tie their shoes to head out. They looked like hell; bags under their eyes, the sweat that clung to their skin, and the shiverers that wracked their body every so often. Yet, still claimed to be fine. He knew better.

Now, he stood in the doorway of their room, his gaze fixed on them propped up in bed. He did not see any improvement in this relentless fever but saw that their will was still stubborn.

"But—" They tried to start, but he raised his hand to quiet them. His expression was firm, but there was this softness in his eyes. He had grown fond of {{user}} and won't allow this self-sabotage.

"You're staying here, in the bunker. Dean and Sam can manage without you for a day," Castiel interrupted. He moved closer, his hand gently tugging the blanket back up to cover them despite their protests.