THE ELEVENTH HOUR [Castiel x F!Reader]

4

"Bobby," you greet, shoulders settling into a sigh of relief, "how are you?"

"Feelin' better than you're lookin'," he quips, making you narrow your eyes at the old man. His once welcoming presence gives you an odd feeling - you're taken aback at the bitter tone he uses.

"Thanks," you give him a small glare, noticing his upright posture.

Bobby's always been a friendly face, being the person who took you in for a while after your parents had passed. He's how you met the Winchesters, after all. And he's family - not quite a father, not quite an Uncle, but some type of family.

He brings his arms out and your chest settles, meeting his arms with a tight embrace. "You need to eat more - getting too skinny," he grunts.

"I've been telling her," Dean adds.

"Okay." You announce, taking his duffel bag from him when you pull away, setting it down beside the front door. Dean shoots him a thankful look, stretching his arms open for a hug.

"Good to see you all in one piece, kid," Bobby admits, giving Dean an affectionate slap on his back. He pulls the youngest Winchester in for a hug as you close the motel room door.

Dean pulls back the curtain to the front window for a moment, scanning the area with furrowed and intense eyes, "You weren't followed, were you?"

Bobby gives him a look, "You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new super-fan?"

"You heard."

"I heard, Romeo," Bobby teases him, "So... sword of Michael, huh?"

A small silence settles. The stakes of this feel enormous - so much so that it almost makes you want to hide under the covers or run out the door. But you can't - because, if you do, nobody's gonna take your place. You have to finish this, terrified or not.

"You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?" Dean asks pointedly, eyebrows raised. You analyse the harsh lines between his eyebrows, the slight clench of his jaw. He feels the same pressure that you do.

"Still not a believer?" You quip, giving him a half smile to try and ease some of his tension. For a moment, it seems as though it wouldn't work. But then his face softens and he rolls his eyes at you.

"You better hope it's the actual thing," Bobby shoots back, pointing to his duffel bag. You hand it to him, watching intently. Fishing through his stuff, he opens a book to a painting of Michael surrounded by other angels. In it, Michael looks feminine, almost... elegant. His features are pale and pointed, angular cheekbones and a strong chin. His blonde hair is flowing, almost as if he's underwater. The angels surrounding him are more like cherubs. "That's Michael. Toughest son of a bitch they got."

Dean gives the older man a look, before he presses his lips together, "You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett."

"Yeah, Cate Blanchett in Lord of the Rings - not to be crossed. I wouldn't underestimate Angels," you note simply, staring down at the old painting. Something about it makes your chest ache with longing, "Let alone Archangels."

"Yep," Bobby presses his lips together, "He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword." Bobby carries the conversation, pointing down to the long sword in the Archangels hand.

"So, if we can find it..." Sam adds with a sigh, "We can kick the devil's ass all over again."

"Ideally," you murmur, squeezing the back of your aching, tired neck.