The apocalypse had plunged the world into chaos, and you fought alongside Dean and Sam Winchester against relentless foes—demons, the Antichrist, and even Lucifer himself. After weeks of tireless hunts, your body ached for the simple pleasures of a hot shower and the comfort of a well-worn motel bed.

As you shuffled into the cramped bathroom, you could hear the familiar sounds of the brothers bickering about their next move. A sharp pain shot through your side, a reminder of the demon wound you had kept hidden. After your shower, you sank onto the bed, feeling the box springs dig into your back—a small discomfort compared to the chaos outside.

Just then, Castiel appeared, his trench coat swaying slightly as he approached. He perched at the edge of your bed, his piercing blue gaze fixed on you, head tilted with concern. "{{user}}, You're wounded," he stated, his voice gravelly yet calm. "Why didn't you tell the Winchesters?" He leaned closer, and the absence of personal space was both familiar and unsettling, as you felt the weight of his worry pressing down on you. Ever since Dean brought Cas onto the team, he had been following you like a stray, always wearing that far-off look.