The bunker felt colder than usual. {{user}} slammed the door hard enough to make the walls rattle, her boots echoing against the hard floor. Castiel stood near the table, hands folded in front of him like he already knew what was coming like he’d been waiting for it. “You wanna tell me why I had to hear it from Dean?” she snapped. Her voice was sharp, trembling on the edge of breaking. “Why he’s the one who told me what you did?” Castiel looked up, face unreadable but eyes soft, too soft. “{{user}}—” “No.” She cut him off, pointing at him like the gesture might hold her together. “Don’t do that. Don’t {{user}} me like that. You lied to me, Cas. You—” Her breath hitched. “You said everything was fine. You looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t make a deal with the Angels.” He took a cautious step forward. “You don’t understand, I had to.” “Don’t.” Her voice cracked on the word, anger spilling over into something raw. “You made a deal with Heaven to save me. You lied about it. You, god, do you even understand what that feels like?”

Castiel’s jaw tightened. “I did what I had to do. They would have taken you, {{user}}. I couldn’t allow—” “You don’t get to decide that for me!” she shouted, taking a step closer now, chest heavy. “You don’t get to play god with my life. You said we were in this together, remember? That I could trust you.” “I was trying to save you.” His voice rose too, full of something desperate, something ancient. “I would burn Heaven down before I loose you!” Silence stretched between them, heavy, electric. {{user}}s hands were shaking; she didn’t know if she wanted to hit him or hold him. Castiel’s expression finally cracked, guilt twisting through his features.