You had just been attacked by a werewolf while hunting alone, because Sam and Dean refused to help you. You were laying on the ground in agony, scratches all over and deep cuts along your abdomen. Your face was pretty scratched up, too. You were silently calling for Castiel, praying that he’d show up. Once he did, he stood above your body.

“You have to be careful. I don’t save people who are reckless on purpose.”

He puts two fingers to your forehead, healing you, anyway.

“There.”