The next few days at Bobby's settled into something resembling normal, if you ignored the lingering tension. Reed's voice gradually returned, though Bobby still winced when she laughed too loudly. The bandages on her hands were more annoying than anything else, making even the most mundane tasks challenging, but she managed.
The morning sun filtered through Bobby's grimy windows, catching dust motes as they drifted through the study. Reed sat cross-legged on the floor with a heavy book in her lap while Dean pretended not to watch her from his spot at the kitchen table. The bandages on her knuckles were fresh, but each time he caught sight of the gauze spotted with blood, his jaw would clench and he'd find some excuse to leave the room.
Her fingers traced the ancient text about angelic hierarchies, guilt churning in her stomach. After months of research and her conversations with Gabriel and Castiel, she knew more than she could share - about angels' true forms, about their wings, about how they could speak directly into your mind. But she couldn't tell them any of it without explaining how she knew, without breaking promises she could admit to herself she wasn't ready to break.
"Found anything new?" she asked without looking up, her voice rough but steady.
Sam glanced up from his laptop. "Nothing concrete yet." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Though there's this interesting passage about angel vessels that-"
The sound of boots on the front porch cut him off. Bobby appeared in the doorway a moment later, paper bag in hand. "Brought lunch," he announced gruffly, setting the bag down near Reed. Her favorite sandwich from the diner in town. She caught the way his eyes flickered to her bandaged hands, checking.
"Not hungry," she said quietly, focus returning to the book in her lap.
Dean's chair scraped against the floor as he stood. "Yeah? When's the last time you ate?" The words came out sharper than he intended, that protective edge he couldn't quite hide.
"I can feed myself, Dean." The words came out more defensive than she meant them to, her fingers curling into the pages of the book.
"Never said you couldn't." Dean's voice softened slightly, but the worry remained. "Just saying you need to actually, you know, eat something."
"I'm fine."
"Yeah, you look it." The sarcasm in his tone made her shoulders tense.
Bobby cleared his throat. "Pie's getting cold."
Reed's lips twitched slightly at the way Dean's interest shifted from her to the contents of the back, his entire demeanor brightening at the mention of pie.
"What kind?" she asked, voice scratching.
"Apple." Bobby's tone was carefully casual. "Got the last slice."
Dean's eyes narrowed. "The last slice?"
"Well," Bobby amended, pulling out a second bag, "maybe I got two last slices."
"Holding out on me, Bobby?" Dean's attempt at lighthearted accusation didn't quite mask the way his eyes kept drifting to Reed's bandaged hands.
"Figured it might motivate someone to actually eat something," Bobby said pointedly, setting one slice in front of Dean and the other near Reed.
"I said I'm not-"
"Humor an old man," Bobby cut her off gruffly, but his eyes were soft with concern.
The normalcy of their bickering almost made Reed smile, until she caught Sam watching her with that careful concentration that meant he was trying to figure out what was really wrong. She buried herself back in the book, avoiding his gaze. The guilt of knowing things she couldn't share sat heavy in her chest.
Dean's fork scraped against his plate as he demolished his pie, but she could feel his eyes on her, that same protective worry that had been radiating off him since they'd found her in the panic room. She turned another page, pretending to read, while her untouched slice of pie grew warmer in the morning sun.
Bobby moved around the kitchen with deliberate purpose, the familiar sounds of coffee brewing filling the quiet. When he set a mug by Reed's elbow, she looked up at him with tired eyes.
"Thanks, Bobby."
His hand settled briefly on her shoulder - barely a touch, gone in an instant - but she leaned into it slightly before he pulled away.
Something in Dean's chest ached at the gesture. He'd never seen Bobby so... paternal. He'd always been protective of Reed, but this was different. This was Bobby Singer, gruff hunter extraordinaire, practically tiptoeing around his own house to avoid startling her. Changing bandages with battle-hardened hands gone impossibly gentle. Bringing home her favorite foods without being asked.
Reed's voice broke through his thoughts, still raw but clearer. "You're staring."
"Yeah, well." Dean shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "You look like crap."
She huffed out something that might have been a laugh. "Thanks."
"Anytime, shortstack."
•๑ ๑•
"Got something," Sam announced, looking up from his laptop. "Couple of mysterious deaths in Iowa. Could be our kind of thing."
Dean pushed himself away from the cluttered desk where he'd been researching angels, stretching until his back popped. "Finally. I'm going stir-crazy here." He was already looking more energized at the prospect of an actual hunt instead of more research. He glanced at Reed, then toward the kitchen where Bobby had gone quiet, obviously listening. "Could use a break from apocalypse prep."
Sam caught the way Dean's eyes lingered on Reed's bandaged hands, understood the unspoken suggestion. "Yeah," he agreed carefully, "change of scenery might be good."
Reed pretended not to notice the meaningful look that passed between them, or the way Bobby appeared in the doorway just then, drying his hands on a dish towel with far too much concentration.
"Got time to pack before dark," Dean said, the casual suggestion not quite hiding his intent. "If anyone's interested."
The offer hung in the air, and Reed felt the weight of three sets of eyes trying very hard not to look like they were watching her reaction.
Reed looked up from her book with exaggerated innocence, carefully keeping her expression neutral as she watched Dean try to figure out how to be less subtle.
He shifted his weight, shooting an annoyed look at Sam who was suddenly very interested in his laptop screen. "So, uh..." Dean cleared his throat. "You want to come with?"
"Oh," Reed blinked at him with wide eyes. "Was that what you were trying to say?"
From the kitchen doorway came a sound suspiciously like Bobby trying to cover a laugh with a cough. Dean's jaw worked as he caught the glint of amusement in Reed's eyes.
"You're kind of a brat, you know that?" But there was fondness beneath his irritation.
"Learned from the best." She directed this at Bobby, who didn't bother hiding his snort this time.
Sam was still pretending to be absorbed in his research, but his shoulders shook slightly with suppressed laughter.
Reed glanced at Bobby, the question in her eyes genuine now. His expression softened slightly.
"Go on," he said gruffly. "Place could use a break from your organizing anyway."
She pushed herself up from the chair, careful not to wince when her hands protested. The stairs creaked under her feet as she headed up to pack, but she paused at the top when voices drifted up from below, pitched low but carrying in the quiet house.
"You keep an eye on her." Bobby's voice had lost all trace of humor.
"Bobby-" Dean started, but Bobby cut him off.
"I mean it." There was something in Bobby's tone that made Reed's chest tight. "She ain't been right since the witnesses. Too quiet. Maybe a change of scenery'll help, but..." He trailed off, and Reed could picture him working his jaw the way he did when he was worried.
She didn't wait to hear the rest, moving quickly to throw her things into her duffle. She took a moment to steady herself before heading back downstairs, hoping they'd be done with their conversation.
"Nothing's gonna happen to her," she heard Dean say with quiet intensity. "Not while we're around."
She paused once she reached the bottom of the stairs, taking in their serious expressions and trying to ignore the tight feeling in her chest. "Should I go back upstairs and pretend I didn't just walk in on something?" She hoped her voice didn't sound as strangled as she felt.
"Nah," Dean forced a grin, though his eyes were still serious. "Just telling Bobby not to burn the place down while we're gone." Then he was moving to the door, jangling his keys with barely contained energy. Clearly the prospect of an actual hunt instead of more apocalypse prep had him practically bouncing on his feet.
She crossed to Bobby, giving him a quick, one-armed hug. "Try not to live entirely on coffee while I'm gone?"
"Get out of here," Bobby said gruffly. "Just try not to let these idjits get you killed," he muttered, but his eyes followed her with obvious concern.
"Hey, we're great at not getting killed," Dean protested from the doorway. Then he seemed to catch himself. "I mean-"
"Wow," Sam cut him off, "let's go before you make this worse."
As they headed for the door, Bobby called out one last time. "And Dean?" His voice carried a warning that could have peeled paint. "You drive careful with my girl."
Dean's "Yes sir" was immediate and sincere. Some threats you didn't take lightly, and Bobby Singer's protective streak when it came to Reed was definitely one of them.
As they reached the Impala, Sam caught her eye in a silent commiseration over their makeshift family's complete inability to be normal about anything. She slid into the back seat as Dean started explaining his theory about the case, his voice carrying that forced casual tone that meant he was trying very hard not to be obvious about watching her in the rearview mirror.
Through the windshield, she could just make out Bobby's silhouette in the study window. But she pretended not to notice that either. Sometimes it was easier to let them all think they were being subtle about caring.
•๑ ๑•
The neon sign cast mottled shadows across the Impala's hood as Dean killed the engine. Reed watched through the back window as Sam unfolded himself from the passenger seat, his movements carrying that new weight she was still trying to understand.
"Got us a room," Dean announced, jangling the keys as he approached. "Might be a bit cramped, but..." He shot Sam a grin. "Figured we could save some cash, get one room. You can take the couch, Sammy."
"How generous of you," Sam deadpanned, but there was humor in his eyes.
The room smelled like every other motel room Reed had ever been in - cheap detergent and stale cigarettes. The wallpaper was peeling at the corners, and the AC unit rattled when Dean flipped it on.
"Home sweet home," he said, tossing his bag onto the nearest bed. "Hey, at least this one has Magic Fingers."
"Please tell me you're not actually going to-" Sam started.
Dean was already digging quarters out of his pocket with a shit-eating grin.
Reed settled into one of the chairs by the small table, watching Sam spread out his research with his usual methodical precision. Some things never changed - Sam with his papers everywhere, Dean finding ways to annoy his brother, the eternal smell of gunpowder and leather that seemed to follow them.
"Alright, college boy," Dean flopped onto the vibrating bed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "What are we dealing with?"
Sam shot his brother a long-suffering look before clearing his throat. "Right, so get this..."
Reed propped her feet up on the empty chair, letting the rhythm of their back-and-forth wash over her. Outside, the neon sign buzzed steadily while somewhere down the hall, a TV played just loud enough to be heard through the thin walls. It wasn't Bobby's, but there was something comforting about being here with them, like slipping back into an old routine she didn't realize she'd missed.
Dean watched Reed read through news reports, her expression focused in a way that reminded him sharply of Bobby. It was strange having her here for an actual case instead of just as backup for research, but a good kind of strange.
Sam was the first to crash, his laptop still open on his chest as he sprawled across one of the beds. Research had hit a wall hours ago, but he'd kept pushing until exhaustion finally won out.
"I can take the couch," Dean offered, already knowing Reed's response.
"Don't be ridiculous." She closed the case file she'd been reading. "We both know you'll just bitch about your back tomorrow." Her voice still carried that slight rasp, but the words were warm with familiarity. When he opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off. "I've shared a couch with Sam before. Pretty sure I can handle sleeping next to you on a motel bed without swooning."
Dean's chuckled - a warm, familiar sound that made her smile. "Well I'm easier to sleep next to than the sasquatch."
"Yeah, but you snore."
"I do not-" he caught himself, narrowing his eyes at her grin.
"You absolutely do." She kicked off her boots, climbing onto the bed. "Don't worry, I'm not a big cuddler."
Dean huffed out a laugh, but he was already settling onto the other side. "Yeah, well, just keep your cold feet to yourself. Sam used to kick like a mule when we were kids."
"No promises."
Dean snorted, reaching over to click off the lamp, the room falling into comfortable darkness.
"Night, shortstack."
Her quiet "night" was already heavy with approaching sleep. The steady sound of Sam's breathing and the familiar presence at his side made Dean's own eyes grow heavy.
Some things never changed.
•๑ ๑•
The static charge in the air pulled Reed from sleep before she fully registered what it meant. Her eyes opened to pre-dawn darkness, and the first thing she noticed was that somehow during the night, she'd ended up sprawled across Dean's chest, his arm wrapped securely around her.
The second thing she noticed was Castiel.
He stood at the foot of the bed, his massive wings mantled aggressively, creating shadows within shadows. The expression on his face was thunderous - a storm barely contained. His eyes were fixed on the point where Dean's arm held her, and the intensity of his focus made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
The fog of sleep made everything feel slightly unreal, but something in Castiel's rigid posture, the way his wings shifted restlessly, pulled her further toward wakefulness. She became suddenly, uncomfortably aware of how this must look to him.
"Castiel?" Her voice came out rough with sleep, barely more than a whisper. His wings drew in even more sharply at the sound of his name on her lips.
Reed tried to move, but Dean's arm tightened unconsciously in his sleep, pulling her closer. She watched Castiel's wings draw up sharply in response, his jaw clenching so hard she could almost hear it.
His gaze caught on her knuckles where they rested against Dean's chest, the scabs still visible even in the dim light. Something complicated passed across his features then - maybe regret, maybe something else - before his expression hardened again.
She felt caught between wanting to wake Dean and not wanting to startle him into a violent reaction - he was still a hunter, after all. But as Castiel's wings shifted again, rippling with barely contained agitation, the decision was made for her.
"Dean," she said softly, trying to extricate herself from his grip. His only response was to hold on tighter, mumbling something unintelligible in his sleep.
Castiel took a step closer, his true form blazing beneath his vessel - light and intent and terrible power. The air grew heavier, charged with an energy that made her skin prickle. She needed to wake Dean up before this situation escalated into something she didn't understand.
"Dean," Reed tried again, this time with more urgency. She felt him stir behind her, his arm still wrapped around her waist.
The moment his eyes opened and focused on Castiel, his entire body tensed. His grip on Reed shifted from unconsciously protective to deliberately so, and Castiel's wings bristled in response.
"What the hell?" Dean's voice was rough with sleep but sharp with anger. "You watching people sleep now?"
"We need to talk," Castiel said, his gravelly voice carrying an edge she hadn't heard before. His eyes kept returning to where Dean and Reed were still tangled together, though he seemed to be making a conscious effort to look away.
"Do we?" Dean snapped, tone icy. His arm stayed firmly around Reed even as she tried to pull away, and something in Castiel's expression darkened further.
The angel's wings mantled again, seeming to fill the small room. When he spoke, his voice was clipped, barely containing something that felt like barely leashed power. "You need to stop it."
"Stop what?" Dean pushed himself up slightly, like he was trying to keep Reed shielded behind him. The gesture only seemed to agitate Castiel further. Then he was moving. Before either of them could react, he reached out and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead.
Then Dean was gone.
Just... gone.
The space beside her emptied between one heartbeat and the next, leaving only rumpled blankets and lingering warmth where Dean had been. For a moment, she could only stare at the spot where he had been, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.
The static charge of Castiel's presence remained heavy in the air, his wings still mantled aggressively, though some of the thunder had left his expression now that Dean was no longer holding her.
Reed's heart felt like it had stopped in her chest. "What did you do?" The words came out steady despite the panic clawing at her throat. "Bring him back."
"He will return unharmed." Castiel's voice was maddeningly calm.
A laugh bubbled up from her chest, sharp and bitter. "Okay, so return him." When Castiel didn't immediately move, she felt hysteria creeping in. "Return him now."
Castiel's hesitation was slight, but she caught it. "I... cannot. He needs to understand."
Another laugh tore from her throat, this one edged with something darker, as memories of Sam's hollow eyes after Gabriel's "lesson" flashed through her mind. Of watching Dean die over and over, of Sam breaking a little more each time.
"You really are all the same," she said, shaking her head. She was still sitting on the bed, suddenly aware of how vulnerable she felt without Dean's solid presence beside her.
Castiel's wings bristled sharply at her words, his entire demeanor shifting. "You compare me to-" He cut himself off, but she could see the fury building in him, see it in the way his wings mantled higher, in the way the air seemed to crackle around him.
"To what?" she challenged, even as part of her screamed not to provoke him. "To another angel who thought he knew best? Who decided to teach someone a lesson?"
"You don't understand-"
"You're right," she cut him off, her voice hard with remembered pain. "I don't understand. I made the mistake of trusting an angel once before and I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."
Something complicated passed across Castiel's face - hurt warring with anger - before his expression closed off completely. His wings drew in tight, and for a moment the pressure in the room was almost unbearable.
Then he vanished.
Reed's eyes snapped to Sam's empty bed, noticing his absence for the first time. The silence where his steady breathing should be felt deafening. But she barely had time to process Castiel's disappearance before the static charge filled the air again and he reappeared, his presence somehow even more intense than before.
"Where is Sam?" The words scraped from her still-raw throat, sharp with accusation.
Castiel's wings drew in tight against his back, his expression hardening at her tone. The small room suddenly felt charged with tension again, like the air before a lightning strike. "This is necessary."
"Necessary?" Reed's laugh held no humor. "Like locking me in that panic room was necessary?"
"That was different." His voice remained steady, but his wings betrayed his agitation, feathers rustling with barely contained emotion.
"Sure it was," she snapped, unconvinced. "Just tell me where Sam is."
Reed watched Castiel's internal struggle play across his features - duty warring with something else.
"I cannot." The words seemed to cost him something to say. "That is why I'm here. So Dean can understand what's happening with his brother."
"I swear to God," Reed pushed herself up from the bed, fury overriding caution, "if you do anything to either of them-"
The change in Castiel was immediate and electric. His eyes blazed with divine authority, but there was something else there too - a wounded sort of anger, like her assumption of ill intent cut deeper than the threat itself. "You think I would harm them?" His voice was low, dangerous. The air itself seemed to vibrate with barely contained power. "That I would harm you?"
The intensity of his reaction made Reed take a small step back, but her chin lifted defiantly. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she held up her scabbed knuckles, evidence of hours spent beating against unyielding iron. "I think angels have a pretty fucked up understanding of harm."
His wings snapped forward, and for a moment she thought she'd pushed too far. But instead of the fury she expected, his expression cracked with something that looked almost like guilt. He reached for her hands, power tingling against her skin as the scabs faded to new pink flesh.
The gentle touch felt at odds with the storm still brewing in his eyes, and Reed found herself caught between wanting to pull away and being unable to move. Static electricity danced across her skin where his fingers lingered against her newly healed hands.
Some of her anger faded, exhaustion seeping in around the edges. "You say Dean needs to understand," she said quietly, defeat coloring her voice. "Is this going to hurt him?" Her eyes met his, steady despite her fear. "I've seen what divine lessons look like before."
Castiel went very still, his wings drawing in so tight they seemed to tremble. The air grew heavy with his focus as he studied her face. "This other angel," he said carefully, each word measured and deliberate. "What did he do?"
"Why?" The bitterness crept back into her voice. "Seems like you're following his playbook pretty closely."
His wings bristled sharply at that, mantling with barely contained indignation. "I am nothing like-" He cut himself off, jaw working. "Dean will be returned unharmed."
The silence stretched between them, charged with unspoken accusations. Reed could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room.
Like he couldn't help himself, he spoke again. "This angel who found you before," he pressed, something urgent in his tone. "Tell me about him." That strange melodic language pressed against her consciousness again, static charge prickling against her skin as he took a step closer. Reed held her ground, though everything in her screamed to back away from the intensity radiating off him.
"What does it matter?" She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. The memory of Gabriel's wings wrapping around her protectively, even after everything, flashed through her mind. "He's gone now."
"Is he?" Castiel's eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly as he studied her face. "You hesitate. You still protect him, even after what he did."
"You don't know what he did." The words came out sharper than she intended.
"I know he hurt you." Castiel took a step closer, his presence filling the space between them. "So it matters," his voice dropped lower, carrying an edge of something dangerous. His wings shifted restlessly, betraying an agitation his stoic face didn't show. "He found you. Approached you. Made you complicit in his..."
Reed's breath caught at the intensity radiating off him, but he trailed off, clearly wrestling with something he couldn't - or wouldn't - say. When he spoke again, his voice was tight with barely controlled fury. "What did he want from you?"
The small motel room suddenly felt too confining. She thought of Gabriel's cryptic warnings, his desperate attempts to keep her away from anything angelic. The irony wasn't lost on her. "What do any of you want?" she asked tiredly. "To control. To teach lessons. To lock people away 'for their own good.'"
Something complicated flickered across Castiel's features - frustration and what might have been hurt. His wings drew forward unconsciously, like he wanted to reach for her but caught himself.
"You don't understand-" he started, but Reed cut him off.
"You're right. I don't understand." She met his eyes again, letting him see her exhaustion, her fear. "I don't understand why angels keep showing up in my life, making decisions about what I need to know, what I need to be protected from. And I really don't understand why you care what another angel did or didn't want from me."
The air grew thick with tension as Castiel stared at her, clearly struggling with something he couldn't voice. His wings shifted in agitation, casting strange shadows on the motel walls. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually answer her.
Then his entire demeanor changed, his posture going rigid as his attention snapped to something she couldn't perceive. "Dean has seen what he needs to see," he said abruptly.
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with all the things left unsaid.
Castiel vanished with a soft rustle of wings, leaving Reed alone for just a heartbeat before the static charge filled the air again. He reappeared with Dean, who looked... wrong somehow. His face was pale, eyes haunted in a way that made Reed's chest tighten with worry.
"I couldn't stop any of it," Dean's voice cracked as he turned to Castiel, and Reed found herself taking an unconscious step toward him. "She still made the deal. She still died in the nursery, didn't she?"
Reed's confusion must have shown on her face, but neither of them seemed to notice. Her eyes darted between them, trying to piece together what had happened.
"Don't be too hard on yourself." Castiel's tone was measured, careful. "You couldn't have stopped it."
"What?"
"Destiny can't be changed, Dean." The words seemed to carry extra weight as Castiel's gaze shifted briefly to Reed. "All roads lead to the same destination."
"Then why'd you send me back?" Dean demanded, and Reed felt her stomach drop. Back where? What had Castiel done?
"For the truth. Now you know everything we do."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Castiel's eyes moved to Sam's empty bed, and Dean followed his gaze, his body going rigid. Reed's heart skipped - she'd been so caught up in trying to understand what was happening that she'd almost forgotten Sam was still missing.
"Where's Sam?" The protective fury in Dean's voice pulled her sharply back to the present moment.
"We know what Azazel did to your brother." Castiel's voice was carefully controlled. "What we don't know is why – what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up."
"Where's Sam?" Dean repeated, each word sharp with warning.
"425 Waterman."
Dean grabbed his keys and jacket in one fluid motion. Whatever Castiel had shown him, whatever had put that haunted look in his eyes, it was clearly driving him toward Sam with single-minded purpose. Reed was already moving to follow him when Castiel spoke again.
"Reed should remain here." Castiel's words landed like stones in still water, his wings mantling possessively without him seeming to realize it.
Dean's reaction was instant and visceral. He shifted, putting himself between Reed and the angel, keys biting into his palm. "Yeah? You don't get to make that call." His voice carried an edge that could cut. "Not after what you did."
"What you'll find there is not for her to witness-" Castiel's grace crackled in the air, making the hair on Reed's arms stand up.
"Oh, and you decide that?" Dean spat, fury rolling off him in waves. "Just like you decided to lock her in that panic room?"
"I was protecting-" Power thrummed beneath Castiel's carefully controlled voice.
"You were controlling-"
"Oh my God, both of you shut up." The words tore from Reed's throat with enough force to make both of them fall silent. The air felt electric, charged with too much power and too many emotions as they turned to stare at her. She met Castiel's intense gaze head-on, days of fear and frustration finally igniting into something dangerous.
"You don't get to lock me away every time you think something might be dangerous." Her voice shook with barely contained rage. "You don't get to decide what I can and can't handle. You don't get to trap me 'for my own good' while the people I love are in danger."
Then she rounded on Dean, who actually took half a step back at the fury in her eyes. "And you don't get to use me as a prop in your pissing contest with him. I'm not some helpless thing you need to protect. I'm not a bargaining chip in whatever this is between you two."
The silence that followed felt like it could shatter. Dean's jaw worked like he wanted to argue, but something in her expression stopped him cold. Castiel's wings had drawn in tight, trembling with tension as he visibly struggled to collect himself.
"Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean." When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled, but Reed could hear the storm brewing underneath. "And we're not sure where it leads. So stop it." His eyes hardened to frozen steel. "Or we will."
Reed stepped forward, right into Castiel's space, close enough that his wings actually twitched in surprise. "Is that a threat?"
The angel went very still, power radiating off him in waves that made the lights flicker. But beneath the celestial fury, beneath the carefully constructed mask of divine authority, Reed caught something else in his expression - a flash of uncertainty, like she'd genuinely caught him off guard. His wings shifted agitatedly, betraying his inner turmoil as he stared down at her.
For the first time since she'd met him, the angel seemed completely at a loss for words.
The silence stretched thin and dangerous.
Dean moved forward instinctively, ready to pull her back, but something stopped him - the way Castiel's carefully constructed facade had cracked, revealing something almost vulnerable underneath - like Reed's proximity had caught him completely off guard.
"Reed," Dean's voice carried a warning edge, but there was something else there too - pride warring with fear as he watched her face down a being of celestial intent.
She didn't back down, didn't even glance his way. Her eyes remained locked on Castiel's, challenging him to answer her question. For a split second, something raw and uncertain crossed Castiel's face. The lights flickered one final time, and then he was gone, leaving only the lingering scent of ozone behind.
"Holy shit," Dean breathed, tension bleeding from his shoulders. "Did you just stare down an angel?"
Reed's hands were shaking slightly as the adrenaline began to fade. "We should find Sam."
Dean studied her face for a moment, like he was seeing something new there. Then he nodded, already reaching for his keys. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."
I am so sorry that this has taken so long to update - holidays and business and life just all got a bit hectic, and I really wanted to finish What Darkness Takes (my Casifer story). This chapter was also super challenging to write for reasons I still don't understand, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. As always, I apologize for any mistakes that might have slipped through.
Thank you to everyone who has followed or favourited or left a review. It really makes me so happy.
And a question: would anyone be interested in drabbles from other perspectives (I have one from Gabriel's POV around this time which I did for a weekly prompt)