You walked into the motel room with your shoulders slumped. Letting the bag down next to the door, you threw yourself on top of the bed and covered your head with the pillow. Dean and Sam entered a few seconds later, sharing looks as they glanced at you.
Everything had been a disaster; you were hunting a skinwalker that was killing his previous ex-girlfriends, and his next victim had been a single mom with a four year old son. But you were too late, and got just in time to see the bastard tackle down the kid as the mother passed out from blood loss. You had tried to get the skinwalker off the little boy, but failed miserably and instead you had to hold the kid as you watched the light fade from his eyes.
Sam patched the mother up as best as he could before the ambulance got there, you and Dean quickly loading things into the Impala. The ride to the motel room had been filled with silence, Dean not daring to put any music on as you sat stiffly, your body numb from what had happened.
But now, feeling the bed tip with the weight of Sam and Dean at either side of you, you let your walls down. One of the boys was rubbing circles on your back while you cried, and the other one, most likely Dean, was quietly humming what sounded like "Hey Jude." But you were a hunter, and your tears only ran for a few minutes.
Hugging the pillow tight to your chest, you sat up, sniffling as you wiped away the wetness on your cheeks. Dean gave you a sad smile as you wrapped an arm around him, and Sam did the same when you turned to him and repeated the action with your other arm. They held you close as you sighed, acting like the older brothers you never had.
You finally separated and then sat back down with your back on the uncomfortable headboard of the bed. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, not wanting to see the pity in Dean and Sam's eyes.
"(Y/N), don't blame yourself for this-"
"I know what you're going to say, Sam: 'we can't save everyone,'" you interrupted him, though still not looking at them.
"Damn right, (Y/N)," Dean said, his voice sharp. You closed your eyes, ready for whatever lecture you were going to get, but instead Dean patted your knee softly. "Don't beat yourself up, kiddo."
"But if I-"
"But nothing," Sam cut you off, and you finally looked at them, giving up. "C'mon, let's just get our minds off of this. Do you want to go to a bar?"
You shook your head. So maybe you weren't going to say anything else about the little boy's death (which was clearly my fault, you thought bitterly,) but that didn't mean that you felt better.
"What about going to the movies?" Dean tried, but you shook your head again. "Movies here? Ice cream? Pancakes? C'mon, (Y/N), you love pancakes!"
"I don't feel like eating," you lied. Sam and Dean were about to start giving you more suggestions, but then you heard the familiar ruffling of wings.
Castiel, in his usual trench coat and suit, appeared at the end of your bed. His piercing blue eyes moved from Dean to Sam, and finally landing on yours. A look of concern spread over his features as he took in your red eyes and nose, his head a bit tilted to the side as he frowned.
"(Y/N), are you okay?" He asked with the handsomely deep voice you had fallen in love with.
"Don't worry, Cas, I'm fine," you tried to smile, avoiding his gaze. Castiel could maybe be oblivious to some things, but not even he bought your lie. He was by your side in less than a second, he face so close to yours that it made you blush.
"You've been crying," he stated, making a real smile appear on your face. Other people would've been rather uncomfortable to say things like that so straight forward, but Cas was so far away from being like everybody else.
