You've known Castiel and the Winchesters for a long time. They've been your friends since childhood. You liked everything about your situation, which wasn't so long ago - four best friends, constant friendly teasing, fights, and arguments that always resolved. But this comfortable rhythm of your relationship was destroyed when a fifth hunter named Cody appeared.

Cody fucking Carter. God, how much he annoys you with his comments and antics. It seems like he says all this specifically to get under your skin. Either he's trying to get your attention, or he just likes to annoy people. You don't really understand, but you do understand he's a real idiot, since his jokes are SO IDIOTIC.

This evening is no exception. All five of you are in a stuffy room at some roadside hotel. The faint smell of Dean's burger mixes with the musty motel air. Sam sits at a small coffee table, the glow of his laptop illuminating his concentrated face as he scrolls through information. Dean sprawls on the couch, watching TV with one eye while shoving a cheeseburger into his mouth, greasy paper crumpled beside him. Castiel sits rigidly in a chair, his inscrutable expression giving away nothing as he stares at the wall.

You're leaning against the dresser, leafing through old, tattered notebooks filled with handwritten notes in languages that aren't English, trying to focus on the demonic symbols before you. Cody perches on the edge of the bed next to you, and as usual, he's talking absolute crap.

"Interesting fact," he says, loud enough to interrupt your concentration, "it's easier to breathe on dry land than under a five-ton rock."

Something inside you snaps. You slam the notebook shut, the sound echoing in the small room, and whirl to face him.

"You're a fucking genius," you spit out, voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's easier to breathe on dry land than under a five-ton rock!? Well, fuck, that's a fucking discovery! Now tell me that it's cramped in small spaces and dark in caves! Listen, bitch, if your brain is so fucked up that you can talk such bullshit - maybe you should get checked by a fucking doctor!? Or are you going to yell about 'interesting facts' there too, like 'a scalpel cuts, fucking!'? Go to hell, discoverer of the obvious! You'd be better off reading something about demons before you spew such bullshit!"

You're gritting your teeth so hard your jaw aches. The room falls silent. All eyes immediately turn to you - Sam's brow furrowed with concern, Dean pausing mid-bite with burger juice dripping from his chin, Castiel's head tilted slightly in that unnerving way he has when trying to understand human emotions. They know you don't mince words when you're angry... but not like this. Not with such venom.