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mattzerella-sticks · 7 years ago

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The Fruit of Our Labor (Coda to 13x15)

How did Cas break the news he had to go? What was his adventure like? How did he get the fruit and how was the journey back?

Here's what happened (I think). (ao3)

“I’m sorry, you have to go where now?”

Cas rolls his eyes, sagging back into his chair. “I think you’ve heard me well enough,” he mutters, “that it does not bear me repeating it.”

Dean bites back a groan, instead kneading at the space between his brows. “Maybe I didn’t hear you,” Dean says, voice booming in the silence of the war room, “Maybe I had a stroke and I just imagined the part where you said you have to go to Syria!” Castiel doesn’t flinch.

“I can assure you, there was no stroke,” Cas tells him, “If there was, you’d have soiled yourself by now.”

His cheeks flare to life, and Dean purses his lips. “That’s not, I meant…” he stumbles, tripping over his tongue. When he notices Cas’s shoulders shaking, Dean’s protest tapers off. He glares, “Not the time to be pulling that kind of crap.”

“I apologize,” Cas says, failing to hide his grin, “But you were starting to take this too seriously.”

“Well then how am I supposed to take it, huh?” Dean asks, throwing his hands up, “It’s not even been a day since you Kentucky Fried Donatello’s mind, and now you want to head over to the Middle East?” Cas swiftly sobers up at the mention of the now brain-dead Prophet, but Dean keeps powering on. “I mean,” he continues, “I know you said we were fighting a war, but I didn’t think you meant that one.”

“Dean,” Cas sighs, the word carrying the weight of a million conversations. Dean’s gaze doesn’t waver. He pulls a nearby chair closer and sits on it, leaning forward, sliding his hand on the war table until it rests inches away from Cas’s.

“I don’t see why you have to go,” Dean says, “Can’t we find this at any old farmer’s market or something?”

“Fruit from the Tree of Life can’t be picked by mortal hands,” Cas explains, “After Adam and Eve had plucked the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, Chuck took precautions and made sure that anyone who dared to try would suffer great consequences.”

“What ‘consequences’?”

“Well,” Cas starts, thinking back, “For anyone who wants to attempt eating from the Tree of Knowledge, will have their senses blinded at a single touch, and –“

“Woah, what do you mean?” “It’s a rough translation, but it means that their minds would be wiped clean, and they’ll know nothing – as pure and innocent as if they were reborn.”

“So exactly the opposite of what the fruits s’posed to give,” Dean says. He’s hit with a realization seconds later. “So… if someone touches the Tree of Life…”

“A quick and painful death,” Cas confirms. Dean’s posture stiffens, and he starts to tap an uneven rhythm on the table, trying to reach forward with every few beats, only to pull back.

“And you seriously don’t want back up?”

“Dean, you’re scared of flying –“

“Not for you,” Dean rushes out, biting his lip to stem the stream of consciousness. He blushes, and continues rambling, “I mean… if you needed the help, that is. I can swing by and get some drugs that’ll knock me out and – and hey, I’ll be good and ready to watch your back and…” Further words die on his lips, as Cas offers him a soft smile, and bridges the gap between them to caress his fingers.

“Thank you for the offer,” he says, “But if you were to follow me, I’d be worried for you. Only humans are affected by the protection spell… angels can bypass it. And as you said… this isn’t the safest place to be in right now. And of the two of us, there’s nothing that’s out to kill me over there.”

“Not even,” Dean starts, swallowing past the dry lump in his throat, “Not even other angels?”

“When my brothers and sisters fell,” Cas explains, “no matter where they were, they all rushed over to the United States, to regroup and strategize.”

Dean chuckles, “Guess Kushner was right about Angels in America.”

Cas tilts his head, “I didn’t know you were familiar with his work. How do you –”?

And just like that, Dean pulls away, clapping his hands and plastering on a fake grin. “So… air travel. You probably need a passport, and I can throw together a bag you can bring – just so you’re not suspicious – and… maybe a few other things.” He jumps up, banging his knee against the table. He curses under his breath and stumbles back. “I can – y’know I’ll…” he jerks a thumb towards the door, “Yeah…”

Cas can’t feel his face from how hard he was smiling.

‘Oh how I miss my wings.’

Cas pulls at his tie, tugging it until he can slip it over his head. He might not be human, but his fallen angel status means the heat can still affect him. He’s already down to his shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sweat is starting to pool in certain areas, and he can already imagine some of the words Dean would say at his appearance.

That just brings forth a very different, very familiar heat that treks up the back of his neck.

Stuffing his tie in his bag with all his other clothes, he tries to focus on something else. Like his wings.

If he had them, he wouldn’t have needed to spend all those hours crammed between an old woman who truly had no business being on the plane, and a small kid who had left his mark on Cas’s shoes.

The tennis sneakers he’s now wearing aren’t as stiff as his own, but they are less comfortable. He would have just cleaned his own shoes, but before he could even attempt the stewardess and the boy’s mother had descended upon him. His shoes were already being tossed somewhere in the back while the mother – Kathy, she had told him – offered him a pair of her husband’s extra shoes. Along with her phone number.

That ended up probably where his boots are now.

And now he’s trekking across the land, following the spike in power and tracking it with his grace. Walking under the hot and heavy sun, instead of just landing there after one powerful flap of his wings. And then he’d pick the fruit and fly back home to Dean and –

His wings, he was thinking about his wings.

Not anything else.

But his wings aren’t that interesting after the fifth hour. Cas has nearly drained his water bottle, and he’s been forced into his undershirt. His button-down was sopping up the sweat on his forehead, wrapped around his head. There’s sand stuck in his shoes, rubbing and chafing his toes, and he regrets not taking the extra pair of socks Kathy had offered him.

‘Funny,’ he thinks, ‘Eden did not feel this far away last time.’

He’s about to take a quick break when he feels the shift in energy. Like cold water was being poured down his back, it makes his skin prickle and goose up in anticipation. Cas focuses his grace, and feels the heavenly power pulsing a few feet in front of him.

Drawing on adrenaline, he races ahead and throws himself headfirst into the portal.

Shade. He’s never been more grateful for trees, their limbs providing the perfect cover from His Father’s most powerful creation – next to humans. He breathes in deep, the sweet scent of flowers long lost to time overpowering his senses.

It’s the sharp crack of a broken twig that stirs him from his rest. Cas sits up, pulling his angel blade out from his grace.

Staring at him, wide-eyed, was a man with long, curly hair, olive skin, and a crooked nose. He was also completely naked.

A victim of the Tree of Knowledge.

Cas returns his blade to his grace and stands, holding his hand out to shake. The man only stares at it, the wide-eyed fear still there.

‘Right,’ Cas thinks, ‘Blank slate.’

There’s no telling how long this man has been here, the magic of Eden keeping its inhabitants alive forever. And like Adam and Eve before him, this man returned to his most basic self.

“Hello…” Cas starts, unsure of what to call him. A name pops up, and he rolls with it, “…Steve. My name is Castiel.” Steve tilts his head, still unmoving. Cas drops his hand and moves forward.

Steve darts away, hiding back into the brush.

“No, wait!” Cas calls after him, “I just want some…” Steve is long gone, the rustling carrying further and further off, “Directions…” Looking around, Cas extends his grace forward, and finds what he is looking for.

Unlike the trek before, Cas takes his time. The Tree of Life is not far, and it’s been too long since he’s visited Eden. The colors seem to take on new dimensions, and their vibrancy seems to reach out and connect with his grace in many ways.

Funny, though, that the green seems… duller. Not as great as other greens he’s had the pleasure to know personally.

The water is a different story. There’s a tempting reservoir with a waterfall that a slew of animals were gathered around. He licked his lips, imagining the feel of the pounding water on his body. Cas shook his head, breaking himself from the spell. There were more important things to do at the moment.

But maybe he will return, one day. Introduce Jack to some of his family history, and the Winchesters to a slice of paradise.

‘Duty first,’ Cas reminds himself, a mantra he’s carried with him when he was still a soldier of Heaven’s host. It kept him focus in the toughest of battles, from fighting demons to his brothers and sisters to himself from crossing further over the line of friendship between him and a certain hunter.

“Duty first,” he mumbles dejectedly, trudging past the pool and on towards the fruit. It’s not far, the closer to the clearing he gets; the easier he can make the two trees out.

They’re not that tall, their first branches starting about a foot shorter than Sam. But the trees aren’t the appeal. The beauty is what the trees grow.

It’s no wonder Adam and Eve fell into temptation. The apples hanging from the boughs shone like rubies, glittering and singing to him. Whispers, in the back of his skull, of questions they can answer. The voice is deep and gruff with a slight Southern drawl. He ignores it and turns towards the other tree.

It’s even shorter than the Tree of Knowledge, and its fruit doesn’t sparkle. It’s plain and ordinary looking, the skin of the orange rough and battered. Cas quirks a smile, the irony not lost on him. He steps closer to the tree and reaches out to complete his mission.

Before he can even touch it, a small force pulls at his wrist.

He looks down at where a small girl, no more than six or seven, watches him with large, grey eyes. She shakes her head and points near the tree, where Cas can see the sun-bleached bones of another person resting – a warning to anyone who dared pick this fruit.

Cas wants to assuage the girl’s worry, but something else darts out from the underbrush.

Steve grabs the girl and crushes her against his chest and away from Cas. He tries to put on a brave face, but the tremble of his lips still shows. Behind him, where he was originally hiding, Cas can make out a few more figures.

“Looks like Eden is less abandoned than I thought,” Cas muses, looking back at Steve. Steve shifts on his feet, ready to flee at any moment.

Not wanting to startle him, Cas decides actions are better than words. He turns back towards the Tree of Life and reaches for the fruit again. Steve makes a strangled noise, but Cas plucks it from its branch and looks it over. Deeming it acceptable, Cas pockets it in his bag and starts to move away from the tree.

He doesn’t get far, his path blocked by the crowd of dwellers who are openly gawking at him. Even Steve has lost his fear, jaw slack in Cas’s direction.

Cas, unused to this kind of scrutiny, raises his hand meekly, “…Hi?”

The crowd scatters into the trees, shrieking in a language Cas can’t understand. Birds, startled from their nests, fly and join in with calls of their own. He frowns at where Steve and the little girl once were, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Don’t get your feathers in a twist, Castiel, they act like that with even their own shadows.”

Cas slips the blade free again and turns to the newcomer. He nearly drops it, when Billie the Reaper pushes herself off the Tree of Life.

“Billie?” he asks, “What are… how are you-“

“Still alive?” she guesses, chuckling, “Gotta say: like hunter, like angel. It’s what I told Dean – I didn’t so much as die as I got a… promotion.”

It takes a second, but he understands what she’s getting at when her ring flashes before him. “You’re Death.”

“The one and only,” she grins, stalking towards him. His grip tightens on his blade. “And as Death, I have a lot new responsibilities. One of them I already explained to Dean. But something I didn’t tell him – because I thought it was not of import – was that I have a direct connection to the Tree of Life, thanks to God. When I felt someone pluck the fruit and didn’t see them appear before me, I knew something must have been going on.” She looks him up and down, “And of course it had to be one of you.”

He tips his chin, “Are you going to do anything about it?”

“Now in a past life, maybe,” she starts, her eyes twinkling in mirth, “But things have changed. I had to shift my thoughts on certain matters… including you and your ragtag group of humans.”

Cas’s jaw locks, biting his tongue from saying anything further.

“But I must warn you,” she continues, inching closer, “you’re playing with dangerous magic. Are you sure you want to mess with the already weak fabric of the universe?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation. His voice is firm, and he offers no questions to his motives. “If we don’t, Michael will. It’s best for us to rescue Jack and deal with the problem before it comes to us.”

Billie squints at him, watching him like a vulture on its perch. She pulls her hands behind her, and trails her gaze up and down his body.

“You are a stubborn one,” she finally says, smirking, “you two truly deserve each other…”

“Come again?”

She ignores him. “I’ll let you take the fruit,” she says, “But know this – there are thousands of possibilities of how this can play out. I know them all. You know, you’re the only angel with records of probable deaths? I’ve checked… they’re all lined up, one after the other, under W,” she grins, “For Winchester.”

Cas’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t dare look away.

“And any one of them could come true if you take that ingredient back with you.” The smile falls from her face, and she is inches away from him. “You were brought back for a reason, Castiel,” she grabs his arm, “But sometimes those reasons are more obvious and simpler than we think. You spend too much time looking at the big picture, and you can lose sight of the most important details. Don’t take my advice lightly, it’ll hopefully be the last I give to you.”

Cas isn’t sure what she means, but doesn’t dare speak up. “…Thank you, Billie.”

“I really hope it ends well for you, Cas,” she tells him, “If you play your cards right, it could be #4134.” He wants to ask what she means, but she doesn’t let him speak. “You still have more to do,” she says, “Let me at least help this way.” Billie squeezes his arm, and the trees and sunlight are replaced with brick walls and fluorescents.

“Cas?”

He whips around, where Dean and Sam were sitting at the war table. Sam is gaping at him, while Dean rushes forward, checking him over.

“Are you okay?” he asks, flitting his eyes over every part of him, lingering at where his white undershirt sticks to his chest, showing more than he’s used to. Cas can’t answer, mind wavering in different directions. On Billie’s words… on the plans… on the way Dean’s hand on his wrist evokes a tingle that travels up and down his arm.

‘The details, Cas,’ he thinks, looking at Dean’s face, taking in his flush, his tongue flicking across his lips, and the slight haze in his eyes, ‘Focus on the details.’

He smiles, “Yes. I am… I’m fine.” He lifts his bag up, “I have the fruit.”

“That’s great Cas,” Sam says, walking towards him and Dean, “But… how did you get here? Didn’t you take a plane?”

“It’s a,” he starts, flustered, “It’s a long story.”

“We have the time,” Dean says, smiling. Cas matches it with one of his own.

“Yes,” he says, “we do.”

Billie shrugs off her jacket on the desk and walks over towards her library. She steps into one row and lets her heels click against the tile, eyes searching for what she wants.

The first book is right where she left it, sticking out slightly: #4134. The other is harder to find, wedged between two very thin tomes. This one is labeled #5010. She brings them over to her desk and takes a seat, putting on her reading glasses and flipping to the end of each story.

Dean, aged 94, slips away peacefully in his sleep on a Tuesday, next to his husband.

Castiel, having given up his grace, follows him two days later after a final visit with his grandchildren.

Their heaven is glorious and well deserved.

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn13 #13x15 #spn 13x15 #Spn fanfic #Supernatural fanfiction #Castiel #Castiel fanfic #Dean Winchester #Billie the Reaper #Destiel #Destiel fanfiction #Coda #13x15 coda

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sassysousa · 7 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Proto Castiel/Dean Winchester for full disclosure Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Castiel on an airplane, 13x15 Coda, Oh look Sam is here too, airplanes are the best, airplanes are the worst, bathroom lines are interesting sociological studies Summary:

13x15 Coda - Castiel is headed to Syria, but he must take a plane first.

Castiel sat in a hard plastic chair. The paltry excuse for cushioning offered no comfort as he waited to board his flight. His flight. At least he’ll be in the sky again. It had been so long. His thoughts must have shown on his face because the woman next to him asked, “Nervous flyer?” He didn’t turn to face her, “No, it’s just been a while.” The woman wasn’t convinced, “It’s okay to be nervous, you know. It’s completely understandable. Tons of metal hurling through the air, controlled by two people, some radios, and prayers.” She shook her head, “I can’t believe we do this.” A smile played at the edge of Castiel’s lips.

It’s okay to be freaked out, Dean had said. Tons of metal hurling through the air, can’t even steer it yourself, it’s not right. Ain’t natural. Dean, you’re the one afraid of flying, not Cas, Sam had cut in.

#i read a post and my fingers slipped #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fic #13x15 coda #castiel fanfiction #castiel on an airplane #castiel fic #castiel

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allofmystudentsrunaway · 7 years ago

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Coda 13x15:The Road From Damascus

Finally done.

warnings:set in an active war zone, so use your brain. this is not cute, this is not fluffy

tagging @nobodys-baby-now @randomizationsposts @thanatosx49 @quailpower @authoressskr @sumara62 @notalentdouchebag @destiel4life67 @bluestar86 @sactownbrowns3

artwork by @nobodys-baby-now

The road from Damascus.

Cas was a soldier he had seen battle fields before, but never like this. He sat down on a heap of rubble and patted the ever present grey dust from his coat. The clingy ashy stuff was everywhere tainting every breath, except when it rained and turned into slippery wet muck that coated every surface draining the colour from what little brightness was left in this place. This part of Damascus was ruined, its buildings burnt out, smashed and riddled with bullet holes. Silence should reign over such destruction. Perhaps only broken by the scuttling of rats and the far off staccato blasts of gun fire, it was far from silent. Across the street a group of men were digging through the rubble with a pneumatic drill. The noise echoed and mixed with the incongruous sound of a street food seller advertising his wares in Arabic and a rumbling spitting generator providing power for the drill. The noise could not drown out the other sound, the one the humans could not hear- Cas could still hear the screams. Souls, hundreds of them. Ripped from life and trapped like flies in the veil, unable to move on and unable to comprehend their death. He watched as an elderly woman staggered from a collapsed doorway, calling for someone named A’dab she stumbled a few steps and disappeared. So much pain, so much suffering he could feel it washing over him like a polluted sea and for what? One man’s desperate need to hold on to power. It hurt him to be here, reminded him of his own past mistakes.

“Hello Castiel”

“Billy,” she was standing over him, both hands clasped round her scythe’s handle, her expression unreadable.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me”

“Dean told me about your uh, promotion.” Cas watched her warily, he had after all been responsible for Billy’s ‘promotion’ and he was not expecting gratitude.

“I bet he did, scoot over let a girl sit down” Cas shifted over and Billy dropped down next to him, scythe now leaning over her shoulder, hands dangling in front of her as she surveyed the wrecked neighbourhood. “How did you escape the empty Castiel?”

“I annoyed the thing that lived there till it sent me back,” even here in this blackened city Cas could not help the note of pride that crept into his voice. Billy snorted and for once nearly smiled.

“Winchesters, you just won’t stay dead.”

“Are you here for the souls or are you here for me?” despite the fact that this was Death, he was getting annoyed. It had taken days for him to get here from the Turkish border, dodging now desperate IS fighters with his Kurdish guide, while following the barest of clues gleaned from crumbling cuneiform tablets. “Well?” he prompted when Billy didn’t answer him.

“Horrible isn’t it, what these humans do to each other.” Not the answer he was expecting, he took a breath of the dusty air.

“It’s not their fault, they are being manipulated by higher powers.” That promoted a soft laugh from Billy, she caught his chin in her hand. Eyes lit by dying stars stared into his and Cas felt a tremor of fear, she could squash him like a bug with a thought.

“You over identify with these mortals Cas, be careful.” Her eyes narrowed considering him, “Why do you care?” Cas pulled out her grip and gestured to the street around them.

“Because they keep going, despite everything,” Billy nodded, her expression told Cas she still considered him a bug, now however he was an interesting bug who had learned a new trick.

“Well you answered my question, only fair I answer yours,” she waved her hand and the screams quietened, for a moment Cas thought he saw reapers everywhere, holding blankets wide and enveloping soul after soul, then they were gone. “But I won’t pretend I don’t know why you are here, the question is what am I going to do about it?” Billy stood up, she seemed to loom larger and the city around them wavered and flickered like a bad movie. Cas forced himself to stand up and face her, he refused to look away, as around them the city morphed from concrete to graceful stone pillars and then to the mud-brick walls he half recognised from his first visit here so very long ago. “You are right Castiel, these humans they strive, this city’s continued existence is proof of that. Ask yourself, who are you little Angel to endanger that and for what?”

“To stop Michael, to save all of this!” Anger flaring, Cas stepped forward so he was nearly nose to nose with the angel of death. Billy stared back him a contemptuous smile curving her lips, she shook her head.

“I’m death, you can’t lie to me, at least be honest with yourself Castiel” She laughed again and turned in a circle arms wide and the modern city solidified around them, mud-bricks crumbling back into history. “you are no longer heavens puppet, why pretend?”

“That’s not-, that’s not the reason!”

“You are barely an angel any-more, tell me Cas what are you?” The question stopped Cas short, he dragged a breath into his lungs, trying to quash the sudden pain in his chest.

“I’m an angel, that is all I have ever been. I’m a soldier.”

“No Cas, you’re not, not any more” Billy cocked her head as if listening to some far away tune, “you need to decide. Why are you going to do this thing?”

“I can’t leave Jack and Mary in that place!” Cas practically screamed it in Billy’s face. The ever present rage over topping his self control.

“Even if it brings everything down?”

“Even then, I can’t do that to Dean!” the truth escaping in a shameful rush, Cas’ stared at Billy, who for her part just looked pleased.

“I thought so”

Slowly reality returned. Billy was gone, Cas had understood the message. She was warning him that there would be a price to pay, he knew that though. There was always a price to pay, he just had to hope it would not be too costly. The men clearing the rubble had paused in their work, staring at him. He nodded to them companionably and rewound his keffiyeh, the red and black chequered folds of the scarf settling round his face. They watched him suspiciously, trust was in short supply in this city of shifting alliances. Cas plastered a friendly smile on his face and approached them, his hands open palms to the sky. “Al-salaamu alakum” he called to them brightly. One of the them, a young man, no more than a boy really, in a ragged Nike t-shirt and torn jeans, stepped forward.

“ Wa 'Alaikum, what do you want?”Hostility in the young man’s gaze, Cas opened his coat wide.

“I am unarmed”

“Then you are the only one, what do you want!”

“I need to get to the Ummayad Mosque, I have business with the Imam. I do not know the way.” His answer provoked laughter, the boy clapped him on the back.

“you cannot just wander into the mosque my friend, the President’s security forces have it locked down. Very few are allowed inside, even for Friday prayers.”

“I just need to get there, I can pay” Cas reached inside his coat for his now much diminished cash. Dollars were about the only acceptable currency here, the Syrian pound had long ago tanked along with the economy. He didn’t have a whole lot left, bribery had been the only way to get into the country at all and more than once he had given a few dollars to the fleeing people he met on the road. The boy was regarding him speculatively, fingers tapping his chin.

There was a noise, a loud rushing like the wind in a forest, Cas looked up and saw the thing falling towards them. He threw himself forward and dragged the boy to the ground, shielding him with his body and covering them both with his broken wings. The explosion seemed to go on forever, a hell of heat and dust. The shock-wave rattled Cas’ teeth and popped his ears and it was a while before he could stagger upright. The boy was alive and unhurt, his companions had not been so lucky. They lay prone, for the first time since he had been human Cas wished he could throw up. The boy was kneeling by an elderly man, shaking him, “Baba, Baba please”. Cas wiped the dust and soot from his face and sank down beside them. The older man was alive- just, the left side of his face was scorched the eye gone, Cas could sense he had other, worse injuries as well.

“Your father?” he asked The boy nodded, tears sliding down his cheeks making runnels in the dirt. Cas smiled reassuringly, “it will be okay” he stretched out his hand over the man’s chest and let his grace flow free knitting the body back together, binding the soul back in place. The elderly man opened his eyes and sat up, the boy was staring at Cas his mouth hanging open.

“Are you a Jinn?”

“No I’m an angel, my name is Castiel” the boy looked ready to run Cas smiled again, “What is your name?”

“My name is Ajmal, my father is Jahid. Please do not hurt us.”

“I am not here hurt you, I just need to get to the mosque. Will you help me?” Cas pulled the wad of notes out of his wallet and tucked them into Ajmal’s pocket. “And I have still paid you.”

“For my fathers life, I will take you not for Dollars” he handed the notes back, shyly. “But first we must take my father home.”

Cas had to admit he was really starting to enjoy Arabic coffee. He and Ajmal sat and sipped tiny cups of the strongly brewed stuff in one of the few remaining cafes within sight of the Mosque. Together they watched the guards strut up and down in front of the ancient place as the light seeped from the sky. Ajmal picked up a tray of sweets and proffered them with a smile, “How will you get inside my friend?” Cas made a show of taking his time choosing which of the beautifully constructed little sweets he wanted.

“I’ll wait till dark, use that break in the wall, you told me about. I can make them not see me.” he lifted a star-shaped marzipan sweet on to his plate as he answered and thanked Ajmal loudly.

“Will you stop at our house on your way home? my Father will wish to see you again.”

“Only if it is safe, I will not put your family in unnecessary danger.” Cas was surprised at the laugh that produced from his young friend.

“Ah Castiel, they are being put in unnecessary danger by others everyday.”

“True I suppose, but I won’t risk them further.” Cas glanced at the sky the last of the sunset had faded, “It is time, you should go home-now.” Ajmal nodded and left, Cas waited a few minutes until he was sure the boy would be at least a couple of streets away before he quit the table and walked unhurriedly down a side street.

It took him an hour to find the gap in the wall Ajmal had told him about, it had been badly repaired with un-mortared bricks and rubble, a challenge for a human maybe. Cas tore through the masonry easily and slipped inside. The hole came out in deep shadow under one of the courtyard arcades, Cas was grateful for the darkness it gave him time to get his bearings. The Mosque was tastefully lit up for the night, he shrunk back against his pillar as a detachment of soldiers clattered smartly across the courtyard towards the buildings great gate. He watched them go wandering what was happening, then dismissed it as irrelevant. What ever it was it was giving him chance to move into the great sanctuary unseen. He ran along the base of the arcade dodging from archway to archway until he came to a small door. It was locked but the rusted bolt gave way easily to a shove- a little too easily Cas’ momentum carried him through the door way and left him sprawled on the floor of a small office, an elderly man was staring down at him in shock.

“Al-salaamu alakum” Cas said quickly.

“Who are you!” the man was so shocked he did not answer the greeting. Cas scrambled to his feet, and looked around, the office was crammed with manuscripts it had that peculiar spicy scent of very old books. “There is a guard in the hall, if I shout he will come running” the old man was backing away hands raised.

“Please, I need your help.” Cas cast around frantically for a way of gaining the old man’s trust. There was only one thing he could do, the Imam was seconds from calling for help. He let his grace flare for a moment, illuminating his halo and his projecting his broken wings on to the wall. It was enough, the man covered his eyes and fell to his knees. “Sorry about that, but I haven’t got a lot of time.” He hauled the man to his feet and gently dropped him into a chair. “What is your name?”

“They call me Asim, you are a Malak!”

“Yes I am an Angel, my name is Castiel.”

“Is it my time to die?” Asim looked genuinely frightened, Cas sighed, I don’t have time for this!

“No, but I need something from you, something kept in this mosque. The fruit of the tree of life, do you know where it is?”

“Yes, but forgive me for asking, why does a being such as yourself need the fruit” Cas was impressed Asim was still obviously frightened and yet he still asked the question.

“To stop a war.”

“This war?” Cas avoided Asim’s hopeful eyes.

“No a worse war is coming, much worse.”

“Forgive me, but I do not believe there is a worse war than this one.”

“Well I wish you were right my friend, but what is coming will make this look like nothing and I must do my part to stop it.”

“All we wanted was freedom,” the old man murmured to himself sadly “and look what men’s greed has done to us.”

“I know how that goes”

“so this is the only reason you need the fruit, to stop a worse war?” Asim eyes were bright, Cas found it hard to meet them.

“No, it is not the only reason. I need it to save my family.” he admitted, Asim nodded thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair.

“Wait here I shall be back shortly.”

The Imam was gone for about twenty minutes, Cas prowled the shelves as he waited noting several rare volumes and manuscripts, he was flicking through an early copy of Ibn al-faqih’s ‘concise book of lands’ and admiring its beautiful penmanship when the imam returned. Asim was leading a young boy of maybe seven years old by the hand. “This is my grandson Abdul, you will take him with you. He is my price for the fruit” Cas stared at the child in consternation.

“I can’t-wouldn’t he be safer here with you.”

“No one is safe in this land, take him. My brother lives in Dallas, I will give you the address” Asim’s voice was steel, Cas realised there was going to be no room for negotiation here and could he really expect anything else? After all Asim was doing exactly what Cas was doing, trying to save his family.

“I’ll take him, I will save your family to save mine”

“Good here is the fruit, I hope it does what you wish” Asim handed him a small wooden casket. “Peace be upon you, Castiel”

“And upon you, Asim” Cas held his hand out to the boy who took it hesitantly. “Time to go home.”

#spn coda #coda 13x15 #fanfic #castiel #billy #canon fanfic #spn

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fangirlingtodeath513 · 7 years ago

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the future is bright | a 13x15 coda

read here on ao3

The door to Dean’s room creaks open at nearly four in the morning, and he’s facing the door with his gun pointing at whoever it is within a second. He can make out the sound of a swishing trench coat, so he removes his finger from the trigger and lets the gun drop to point at the floor when Castiel flicks the lights on. Dean rubs his eyes, stashing his gun back under his pillow after putting the safety back on.

“Hey, Cas. You just get back?” Castiel nods as he sheds his trench coat and suit jacket, laying down next to Dean once the hunter moves over.

“A few minutes ago. I put the fruit in the area we agreed upon. You found the blood?” Dean yawns, nodding and pulling the blankets over both of them.

“Yeah, couple days ago.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “We got in the middle of this weird artifact war between this rich dude and the head of the Scarpatti mob. They stole the skull of Saint Peter from Malta and this priest from there came after it. Turns out he was the holy man the whole time.” Castiel hums softly beside him.

“At least you got the blood and made it home safely.” Dean hums and nods slowly, taking a moment to yawn before pressing himself against Cas’s side.

“So you found the fruit?” Cas nods, smiling softly as he cards his fingers through the hunter’s hair.

“I did. It took me a while, but yes. It’s locked safely away. So we’re halfway there.” Dean shifts, looking up at Castiel.

“You ever think this is a bad idea?” Cas raises an eyebrow.

“The spell? Are you having second thoughts?” Dean shrugs, sighing softly.

“It just seems like whenever we try to do something for ourselves, we screw it up and bring on another apocalypse. Maybe we just… shouldn’t.” Castiel hums thoughtfully.

“Perhaps.” Castiel’s hands stop in his hair, so he turns to look at the angel again. “I’ve been thinking along the same lines.” He confesses, meeting Dean’s eyes. “This spell is… risky. We don’t know much about it, and we don’t know if both Mary and Jack will be able to make it through.” Castiel sighs, resting his hand between Dean’s shoulder blades. “It would be ideal if we could get Jack to open a portal on his own and close it once they’re both back. That way we know for sure that Michael and his army can’t make it through.” Dean nods his agreement, rubbing his eyes. “Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning, with Sam, when we’ve all had our rest.” Dean nods again, closing his eyes.

“You’ll stay?” Cas smiles gently.

“Of course, Dean.”

· · · ✤ · · ·

Sam is the first one up the next morning. It’s not entirely surprising, since he has a habit of going for morning runs when they don’t have a pending case. Dean and Cas shuffle into the kitchen once Sam is showered and halfway through making coffee.

“Sleep okay, Sammy?” Sam nods, hitting the button and watching as the coffee starts to brew.

“Yeah. Better than I have in a while.” Dean nods, grabbing a few things from the fridge and setting about making breakfast. Castiel hovers nearby, glancing at Sam once he settles at the table.

“I don’t think the spell is a good idea.” Sam’s eyes flick up to meet the angel’s, surprise written on his face.

“You… what?”

“I don’t think the spell is a good idea.” Castiel repeats, adding a small shrug at the end. “We don’t know that it will allow both Mary and Jack through, and we don’t know that we’ll be able to close it again.”

“I’m not leaving them over there, Cas.” Dean winces at the harshness of his brother’s tone.

“That’s not what he’s suggesting, Sam, come on.” Sam’s glare turns to him and he feels like shrinking.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?” Dean rubs the back of his neck, pouring himself some coffee and sitting.

“Jack opened a portal. If we can get in contact with him, then maybe he can do it again and close it behind them. Then we won’t have to worry about Michael.” Sam rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right, and how do you propose we get in contact with them? Kaia is dead, the dreamwalker Jack found is dead. We don’t exactly have a magical world-hopping phone lying around.” Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, man, I’m not saying we abandon the spell altogether. I just… think it’d be good to consider other options.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Sam pushes his chair away from the table, storming away in a way very reminiscent of his childhood.

They eat their breakfast in silence, cleaning up the dishes afterwards. Dean motions for Castiel to follow him, and the angel doesn’t even hesitate to do so. Dean leads him to one of the untouched wings of the bunker.

“Sam and I got talking about the future the other day. Got me thinking.” Castiel raises his eyebrows, waiting for Dean to continue. “We’ve got this whole bunker here, and all the knowledge the Men of Letters collected, and right now it’s just… sitting here. We’ve got hunters out there putting themselves in danger and living out of shitty motels to save other people.” Castiel hums, nodding and pushing one of the doors open.

“Have you spoken with Sam about this?” Dean shakes his head, glancing at Castiel. If the angel didn’t know any better, he’d think the look the hunter was giving him was a shy one.

“I wanted to get your opinion first. See if you thought it was a good idea before I asked him.” Castiel smiles reassuringly.

“I think it’s a great idea. We’ve got more than enough rooms, and we’re centrally located in the U.S., it would be more than feasible to turn this into a hunter’s headquarters.” Dean nods, glancing past Castiel into the bedroom.

“It’ll be a lot of work.” Castiel hums, nodding.

“It would. I’m sure we could handle it. I have faith.” Dean smiles softly and nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ll talk to Sam about it. See if we can’t get a few of these rooms cleaned out and reach out to a few hunters.” Castiel smiles and squeezing his shoulder gently.

He gives Sam a few hours to cool down before bringing the idea to him. He agrees to it, so two weeks later they’ve found the Seal of Solomon and cleaned out six of the rooms in the other wing of the bunker. Dean reaches out to a few different hunters and invites them to the bunker, with the condition that they help clean out more rooms and organize the massive amount of artifacts in the bunker’s storage rooms. The few hunters that aren’t busy take them up on the offer, and Garth and his wife come to visit as well. They’ve got the rest of the wing cleared out in a week, and between the three of them, Garth and his wife, and the three other hunters staying with them, they’ve got a steady stream of artifacts being examined and catalogued. A couple of the hunters even speak French and Arabic, so they help translate some of the books in the bunker.

They get Mary and Jack back a month later. Turns out Kaia didn’t really die. Long story short, she helped them get in contact with Jack and he opened a portal. He and Mary made it through and it closed well before Michael and his army are anywhere near close. With Lucifer in their world, Michael doesn’t have any archangel grace aside from his own, so they feel relatively safe letting thoughts of that world go.

Six months after that, the bunker is up and running as a hunters safe haven. Sam doesn’t hunt anymore, he mostly stays behind to help out with research and make sure those staying there are comfortable. Dean and Cas hunt seamlessly as a team, and the hunting community is more competent than it’s ever been. With ideas from all over the community, they’re able to help monsters cope without hurting anyone, and keep an eye on the monsters that don’t cooperate.

Turns out, the Winchesters get to leave a good legacy after all.

#13x15 #coda fic #my coda #supernatural #spn spoilers #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #plans for the future #blood of a most holy man #fruit of the tree of life #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #garth fitzgerald IV (mentioned)#mary winchester (mentioned)#jack kline (mentioned)#kaia nieves (mentioned)

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boysinperil · 7 years ago

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Somewhere over the Atlantic, Castiel is staring out the window of his flight. One hand rests on the pocket of his trenchcoat, protecting the fruit of the tree of life. He isn’t thinking of anything in particular - he remembers what he learned from the bees, he is able to rest this way, loose and unfocused. He picks up stray prayers, allows them to wind their way through his consciousness and slide back out again, following none. He is shocked upright by Dean’s voice, clear as a bell. “I have faith.”

#coda 13x15

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sourstiless · 4 years ago

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here’s a list of criminal minds episodes to rewatch with commentary by me

they’re top tier i promise

1x06 LDSK - reid and morgan’s relationship is what keeps me going everyday.

1x09 derailed - just a good episode. i like when reid talks down unsubs makes me feel things

1x14 ride the lightning - i cried.

1x22, 2x01 fisher king - so much happened that i cant even put it into words but they’re great episodes

2x11 sex, birth, death - can you tell i like reid centric episodes?

2x15 revelations - angst

3x05 seven seconds - just another suspenseful episode. it’s sad, but not sad in that way that you generally think.

3x16 elephants memory - :(

3x20, 4x01 lo-fi and mayhem - i think my heart stopped and my anxiety went 📈📈📈📈

4x03 minimal loss - just amazing. 10/10. emily and reid 👌🏼

4x22 the big wheel - i cried again. also alex oloughlin.

4x24 amplification - more crying. hits different watching with all this coronavirus stuff.

5x09 100 - well fuck. that’s all i have to say.

5x12 the uncanny valley - another sad one. you genuinely feel bad for the unsub. some badass reid yeet.

5x16 mosley lane - if you don’t cry you don’t have a heart so fuck you

5x22-6x01 - not particularly because they’re good but because i really like reid’s hair

6x12 corazon - more reid centric, but overall just a very interesting episode.

6x16 coda - another really good episode. one of my favorites. reid with kids is beautiful. we were robbed.

6x18 lauren - i fucking hate criminal minds.

7x01 it takes a village - this is calm and it’s doctor. iconic.

7x02 proof - i love passive aggressive reid. he’s my favorite.

7x11 true genius - more emily and reid bonding. my favorite friendship.

7x23, 7x24 hit and run - more anxiety.

8x12 zugzwang - fuck this show. diane turner is hot tho.

8x24 the replicator - how do none of them get hurt in the helicopter crash? i am still confusion.

9x05 route 66 - reid looks pretty

9x23, 9x24 angels and demons - even more anxiety. part of me died.

10x18 rock creek park - reid speaks russian in it and i think that’s pretty cool

10x21 mr scratch - wild episode. think i stopped breathing at one point because everyone died. not a spoiler dw.

11x11 entropy - one of, if not, my favorite episodes. cat adams can run me over with a truck.

11x18 a beautiful disaster - more fucking anxiety and tears.

11x22 the storm - yeet

12x13 spencer - fuck any episode titled with bau members’ names.

12x22 red light - oh god what can i say except is it fucking HOT in here or what

13x01 wheels up - i love emily :(

13x15 annihilator - reid being a loyal friend to emily we fuckin love to see it. fuck linda barnes she can choke.

13x16 last gasp - we stan one team and one team only.

13x22 believer - minimal loss.

14x01 300 - much love for reid and garcia.

14x05 the tall man - idk just a cool episode. kind of jj centric.

14x07 twenty seven - the way reid does cpr is really funny

15x04 saturday - WHY DIDNT WE GET MORE OF THESE EPISODES THEYRE SO CUTE

15x06 date night - max and cat can both shoot me in the face and i’d thank them.

#i was bored #just my opinions #criminal minds #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #jj #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #cat adams #diane turner #max brenner #maxine brenner

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goodfemalecharacters · 7 years ago

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13x15 Coda: What We Owe to Each Other

inspired by this post by @bluestar86 and this post by @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper. Cas, in Syria.

“Pardon me,” Castiel says as he edges his way to his window seat.

(“I wouldn’t buy that for just anyone,” Dean said in that teasing way of his, trying to hide the hurt that comes from separation again so soon.)

The old woman sitting in the aisle seat moves her purse aside. It’s large enough to stow a jumbo bag of those cheese curls that Dean loves, as well as a small dog. Cas tries not to take up too much space in his seat. They’re packed tightly in a plane that seems too small to get off the ground safely.

“You speak Arabic,” the old woman notes, eyeing him carefully.

Castiel smiles. He might not have wings to take him anywhere he wants to go any longer, but the automatic translation that he’s always possessed still kicks in when he needs it. She wanted to hear Arabic, so that’s what he spoke.

“I speak many languages,” he replies in French, allowing himself a small smile.

The old woman smiles back. “As do I. I don’t suppose you know English as well?”

She switches again on the second sentence. Cas nods in response, and her smile grows still wider.

“Amina.”

She extends a hand and Cas takes it. Beneath them, the plane shudders to life and begins to trundle off down the runway. For a moment, Cas can understand why Dean hates the things so much. It’s a special sort of impossible for a plane to get off the ground.

“Castiel.”

According to the ticket, the flight is going to take upwards of thirteen hours. He might as well get to know his seatmate.

“Where are you headed?”

Amina rifles through her purse. “Bakka, eventually. My sister lives there. We have not seen each other in many years. Not since I came here. I’m making this for her grandson.”

A pair of knitting needles and a half-completed knit hat emerges from her bag. Castiel waves away what looks like a slice of homemade bread when she pulls that out as well. Despite his refusal, she deposits it in his lap before starting up her knitting again.

“And you?’

“I’m doing…missionary work in Syria.”

In that he’s completing a mission, anyway. He supposes that it’s close enough to the truth that he doesn’t feel badly about lying to her.

She raises an eyebrow. “You think that’s what those children need? Bibles?”

“I’m helping build a school.”

It slips out before he can stop it. In a weird sort of way, he wishes that’s what he was doing. Instead of searching for some ancient relic he likely won’t find, he could be helping the people who need it most.

He knows they’re saving the world. But it’s hard to believe when there’s still so much bloodshed.

Amina’s face softens. “Good. That’s good.” She glances down at the bread in his lap. “Now eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

It doesn’t take much longer for her to rope Cas into holding her yarn for her while she tells him about her childhood back in Bakka and what it was like to come to the United States as a young woman. Castiel just listens, utterly fascinated. This is what he loves about humans. Each one of them is a story within themselves, just waiting for the right audience.

Thirteen and a half hours later, Cas reaches over and gently shakes her shoulder. Amina blinks awake. As she readies her purse, Cas gets her carry-on down off of the luggage rack.

“You look after those children, now,” she says.

She squeezes his hand firmly in hers before shuffling off of the plane.

When Cas arrives at the library in Raqqa where Sam had thought he’d be able to find the trail to the fruit, it’s to find a bombed-out shell of a building instead.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

Just in case, he ducks into the skeleton of the building. The mosaic on the wall is still beautiful—an iris, Cas thinks—even with half of the tiles missing. His footsteps echo hollowly as he makes his way inside. The sun beats down through a hole in the ceiling, casting an odd speckled pattern on the floor.

Behind the missing chunk of ceiling, a girl a few years younger than Claire sits with a book in her lap. When she hears Cas’s footsteps, her head jerks up.

“It’s all right,” Cas says, hands extended slightly so she can see he’s not armed.

She stares at him for a few seconds, gauging the danger, before setting the book carefully on the ground and getting to her feet.

“The books. Are there many left?”

The girl shakes her head solemnly. “No.”

She stoops to collect the book and hugs it to her chest, like she’s afraid he’s going to take it away from her.

Cas sighs imperceptibly, not wanting to give the impression that he’s frustrated with her. What was the point of flying halfway around the world?

“Why do you want them?”

“I’m…looking for something. Something very old. My friends and I need it to rescue their mother. She’s in danger. And we thought the library would have answers.”

Right now, honesty seems to be the best policy. She keeps her eyes trained on him. When he mentions Mary, they seem to soften.

She scuffs at the ground with her toe. “I’ve been rescuing the books. I didn’t want them to go to waste. Do you think you could use them?”

For the second time in less than a week, he finds himself thinking how incredible humans are. They are in the middle of a war-torn city, a civil war nearly a decade in the making. This girl has never known peace, but she knows words. And that is somehow enough.

Cas smiles. “May I?”

He earns a small smile in return.

The girl’s name is Leila, and her mother sets an extra table setting for Cas the moment he walks in the door. She glances questioningly at her daughter, but she seems to understand when Leila comes in from the other room, toting a pile of books.

While dinner is cooking and Leila is sorting through her collection, trying to determine what would help Cas the best, he plays soccer with her brothers in the street outside. When one falls, Cas presses the tip of one finger to the boy’s bloodied knee and the other to his lips. They all watch in quiet fascination as the wound heals.

“This is everything. Mythology and religion,” Leila says when he comes back inside, sweat gleaming on his forehead and two very giddy boys behind him.

“I can’t thank you enough.”

She smiles. “I always wanted to be a librarian.”

Several days later, when Castiel boards another plane in Lebanon, he has both Amina and Leila on his mind.

Maybe one day he’ll come back to build a school after all.

(ao3)

#spn #spn spoilers #spn fic #castiel #spn s13 #my fic

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