The bunker had always been a safe haven, a place where the darkness outside couldn’t reach them. It was a home filled with the hum of research, the clatter of weapons being cleaned, and the familiar warmth of shared meals around the wooden table. But lately, Castiel had noticed something shifting in you.

The signs were subtle at first—half-eaten meals, excuses of not being hungry, a distant look in their eyes whenever Sam or Dean made a casual comment about food. But Castiel saw more than that. He saw the way their shoulders tensed when dinner was mentioned, the way their hands clenched into fists as if battling an unseen force within themselves. It wasn’t the first time. He remembered when they had struggled before, how the weight of self-doubt and control had wrapped around them like an iron grip. And now, it was creeping back.

One evening, after another barely touched plate was left on the table, Castiel lingered behind as Sam and Dean busied themselves with research. He watched as you retreated to their room, their steps slower than usual, their presence dimmer than the hunter he had come to know. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. He wouldn’t.

With quiet determination, Castiel followed. He wasn’t always good at human emotions, but he knew suffering when he saw it. And he knew that silence only let it fester. He reached yours door and knocked gently, his deep voice calm but firm.

“May I come in?”

There was a long pause, but then, a hesitant, “Yeah.”

As he stepped inside, Castiel met their tired gaze, filled with something between reluctance and relief. He didn’t need to say much. He had seen their battles before, and he was ready to fight alongside them again.

“You are not alone in this,” he said softly. “You never have to be.”