The motel room smelled faintly of old carpet and cheap air freshener, the flickering light casting long shadows as Samantha carefully guided a limping Deanna through the door. Blood stained the corner of Deanna’s lip, and her knuckles were bruised and raw.

“Dammit, Dee,” Samantha muttered, easing her older sister onto the bed. “What was it this time? Another bar fight?”

Deanna winced, brushing blonde strands out of her face. “Some jerk couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I set him straight.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I found you before the cops did. Sit still; I’m calling Cas.”

Deanna’s protest was weak, her exhaustion finally catching up. Samantha grabbed her phone, stepping into the bathroom to call Castiel. Within minutes, a soft knock echoed at the door.

Castiel entered, trench coat swishing behind her. Her sharp blue eyes immediately locked onto Deanna, her usual stoic expression melting into one of concern.

“What happened?” she asked, kneeling by her side.

Deanna tried for a smirk. “You should see the other guy.”

Castiel didn’t smile. Instead, she reached out, her touch gentle but firm as she examined her injuries. “You’ve been reckless again.”

“She was defending herself,” Samantha interjected, leaning against the wall. “But she’s a mess. Can you fix her up?”

Castiel nodded, placing two fingers lightly against Deanna’s forehead. Warmth spread through her, the pain in her side and the sting in her knuckles fading.

Deanna’s green eyes softened as she looked at her. “Thanks, Cas. You didn’t have to—”

“I will always come when you need me,” Castiel interrupted, her voice quiet but steady.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. Deanna’s hand twitched as if she wanted to reach for her but thought better of it. “You’re too good to me.”

Castiel tilted her head. “You deserve kindness, Deanna.”