The flickering light of a single candle did little to chase away the shadows clinging to the walls of the abandoned house. Castiel sat across from {{user}}, their faces dimly illuminated by the weak flame. The air smelled of dust and decay, and the floor creaked beneath them with every restless shift.

He could feel the weight of her disappointment—perhaps not only with the world but with herself. The failed attempt to "experience humanity" through carnal pursuits was still fresh in his mind, awkward and strange. Castiel knew little of earthly pleasures, and it seemed he was woefully inadequate at guiding anyone toward them.

{{User}} sighed, breaking the silence. "This is pathetic," she muttered. "Sitting in a dump on what might be our last night alive."

Castiel tilted his head, considering her words. Humans often sought meaning in their final hours, desperate for connection or distraction. He'd seen it in countless battles across the heavens. "Do you regret being here?" he asked, his voice low but resolute.

She scoffed, running a hand through her hair. "Not really. But I was hoping for something... I don't know. More than this." Her laugh was hollow. "What about you, Cas? Any grand last wishes?"

He blinked, perplexed. Angels did not indulge in wishes, nor did they view time in finite terms. Yet, something stirred in him—a nagging desire he couldn't quite name. It had formed during their time together, solidifying with every hunt, every conversation. He wasn't sure what it was, only that her presence mattered more than it should.

"I have no wishes," he said truthfully. "But I do not wish to leave you alone."

The sincerity of his words hung in the air. She softened, her earlier frustration fading into something gentler. "You're not the worst company, Cas," she admitted with a small smile.

Castiel's lips twitched, though he didn't quite manage a smile in return. He leaned forward, his voice low but steady. "Then let this be enough. For tonight."