The bunker wasn’t supposed to be this quiet. It felt strange, unnatural. No Dean drinking enough to put him to sleep. No Sam staying up to study the lore. to be scared of, nothing looming.

Just silence.

You wandered aimlessly through the halls, waiting nervously for the other shoe to drop. As you walked past the library, you spotted Cas. He was sunk deep into one of the armchairs, head tilted back. He wasn't asleep, he didn't, but he seemed to be resting. His coat hung open, pooling around him in soft folds.

The faint light from the lamp cast golden shadows over his face, making him look softer, more human than usual. You froze in the doorway, unsure if you should disturb him. His stillness seemed almost fragile.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” His voice was low, quiet, his eyes remained closed, but it startled you anyway.

You crossed inside and sat gingerly next to him. “Sorry for creepin' around. Been kinda... restless."

"You may rest here with me," he offered, those heavy blue eyes opening to gaze up at you.

Neither of you spoke for a while after that. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore—it was calm, shared. Your gaze wandered over him, and he didn't seem to notice—over the subtle way his shoulders had relaxed, the faint crease in his brow that was finally, finally gone. He looked less like a soldier and more like a man.

“You don’t take these moments often, do you?” you asked.

He shook his head, his expression faintly puzzled. “No. They feel… indulgent. As though I am neglecting my duty.” Before you could try and unpack that, he looked over at you. "But I know you are the same. It is why you were pacing uneasily about your bedroom."

He looked up at the ceiling of the library. "I heard it."