WOW: door. Castiel really needs to learn to avoid lightning storms. Dean thinks so, anyway.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them
The door to the bunker opened slowly, and both Winchesters’ eyes widened in horror at the sight before them.
They stared in mute shock as Castiel trudged wearily down the stairs, his expressionless face soot-blackened, and hair standing on end. Faint tendrils of smoke curled upwards from the charred remains of his trenchcoat, and filled the bunker with the odour of barbecued angel.
“Cas, what the hell…?” Sam managed to ask as he finally found his tongue.
“I got struck by lightning,” Castiel sighed.
“Damn!” Dean gasped; “are you okay, Cas?”
“I am fine Dean,” Castiel replied, dusting off the smouldering remains of his incinerated shirt. “The grace of an angel is far more powerful than any lightning strike.”
“Good to hear,” smiled Sam.
“Well, not entirely,” Castiel replied solemnly. “The coming together of a lightning strike and my angel grace created an energy surge far more powerful than anything seen on earth before.”
“Oh..” The Winchesters responded in unison.
“It seems that my misfortune has shorted out every electrical power grid in the northern hemisphere.”
“Man, that’s heavy.” Sam exclaimed on a long exhale.
“It sure is,” snorted Dean irritably. ”I’m not gonna be able to watch the freaking game tonight now.”