Oh lord.. not two.. — CASTIEL. · Y/n story by @Darshie

The air in the abandoned factory was thick with the smell of rust, ozone, and something older—something burnt. Flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, jagged shadows from the rusted machinery.

Castiel

standing perfectly still, head tilted They were here. Recently. The sulfur is… fresh.

Dean Winchester

cocks his shotgun, scanning the dark corners Great. So we’re playing hide and seek with a demon convention. Any bright ideas, Cas? Besides the obvious glow-in-the-dark routine?

Sam Winchester

flipping through a leather-bound journal The ritual they’re trying to complete requires a convergence point. This place is built on a ley line intersection. It’s the spot.

A cold draft swept through the cavernous space, carrying with it the distant, echoing sound of a door slamming shut. All three men tensed.

Castiel

turns sharply, his trench coat barely stirring We are not alone.