#Endverse!Cas

[inacatastrophicmind]

[fluffsnake]

waste of some perfectly good coffee

[beansprean]

I had to...

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(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Full body of Endverse Castiel sitting on a red bench on a mottled greenish brown background, wearing ripped jeans and a loose teal henley. Straddling his lap is Dean, wearing black tee shirt, boots, and a short blue plaid skirt. Cas is grinning lazily up at him, one hand on Dean's hip and the other holding a joint to his mouth, smoke winding around Dean's shoulders. Dean, one hand braced on Cas's shoulder, looks flustered and confused, sweating nervously with pink cheeks and a furrowed brow. A thought bubble appears above his head with a screenshotted tweet from cisjender that says "The guy I get my weed from told me he was excited for me to try some new stuff today and now I'm sitting in his lap with a skirt on?" /end ID

[universalcas]

[xlllleda]

2014 doodle

[uh-ohspaghettio]

Spn + textposts pt. 4/?

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[weirdkidshere]

Based on this Pinterest post, becouse it's hiarious and i thought I'd draw it :)

[eldritchlibertine]

endverse!cas is such a mood. sassy little asshole

[thepsychicsmind]

Endverse!cas is so precious to me...

I mean, LOOK AT HIM!

Supernatural, The End, S05 E04

[nym-wibbly]

You think endverse Cas was really human? I mean was he a reliable narrator in that script or doing this whole performance to hide himself in plain sight while being more than human less than angel?

Good question! I didn't come away from that ep believing he was fully human, personally - his ability to both instantly spot time-travel!Dean and effortlessly identify what must've happened to him speaks to that. His senses aren't fully human, maybe - at the very least, he retains a mind free from the confabulation and confusion that humans can't avoid when perceiving the world. He sees - and trusts - exactly what's actually there in front of him when the 'wrong' Dean walks in. No hesitation or bewilderment because his brain's telling him two different things - just a few pertinent followup questions to get the context of Dean's time travelling. He still has the uncomplicated, uncomfortable clarity and directness of angel!Cas.

It says a lot that this timeline's Cas describes being human as a step down. Endverse!Cas equates his relative lack of power with becoming human, but losing his angel powers isn't enough to leave him fully human, I don't think. Mortal, maybe, and functionally diminished as a warrior, but not human. It's like he's using it as a catchall word for his fall from grace, and as a derogatory label for his own limited capacity to make a difference in their fight. I don't think he thinks less of humanity than he did before, but he thinks a lot less of himself. Not because he's human, or humanlike, but because he's failed.

I'd suggest that Endverse!Cas's ability to function as an ally who Dean can tolerate (or even allow to live) means that he's less affected by the substance abuse than a human would be. I can't see that version of Dean tolerating any liability in his ranks, let alone in the leadership tier. Maybe Cas walks a thin line with it, always a misstep away from Dean having to take decisive action about him, but he seemed ultra-competent, and trusted, for a guy mixing uppers, downers, and probably sideways-ers, with apocalyptic stress levels and the loss of his very identity.

I do think hiding in plain sight could be a really big part of what we saw from Endverse!Cas. Hiding from himself as much as anything else. Hiding what? Despair, I think. We see hints of that same bitterness and acting-out in regular Cas later in S5, when he thinks that Dean's about to surrender to Michael; that his faith has been (once again) misplaced and the fight is lost. Cas needs something to believe in and fight for because that's how he's made. He takes failure very hard and very personally. There's something defensive about Endverse!Cas, prickly and difficult, even when he's smiling and appears body-comfortable. That easy geniality vibrates with an edge of, "Just try me", like a neon warning sign. I doubt anyone but Dean ever gets the opportunity to see past it.

The End is such a brilliant script, such a well-made episode that it feels like a complete 'verse, but there are so many unanswered questions about how the characters ended up where that story found them. It's a headcanon and fanfiction goldmine because it's so sparing, and I love it. (But I'd just about kill for a Camp Chitaqua or Sam-as-Lucifer spinoff serial to tell me much, much more about it.)

[ghrreas]

[mypeopleskillzarerusty]

Endverse!Dean and Endverse!Cas are fucking.

Sorry, I don't make the rules

[undercovercannibal]

Castiel in SUPERNATURAL (2005 – 2020) The Unicorn in THE LAST UNICORN (1982)

[indubioprocoffee]

“Do you think, they followed us?” Dean asked pantingly, as he slammed the door of the drafty hut behind them.

“Sure hope not,” Castiel answered, equally out of breath.

In another world it was mid October, the air was growing cold again; the first storms had already hit their camp. Winter was coming. But since Sam accepted Lucifer as his vessel, they only had one season, and it was called war.

“Damn those Croats!” Dean was looking through the gabs in the wooden wall, searching for any persecutors. “It’s getting dark … we should get the sigils up and stay the night. There’s no way making it back to camp in the dark.”

“Whatever you say, my fearless leader.” He didn’t care whether he lived or died. Neither did Dean, but unlike Cas, he had people who counted on him.

Dean was shooting him a disapproving glance, but he chose to ignore it. Silently they started to decorate the miserable hut with sigils of red paint. Not so many years ago, these sigils would have pained Castiel, making it impossible for him to stay. But these times seemed an eternity away. His perception of time had become somewhat disturbed. Maybe it was the drugs.

“All done,” Cas declared after finishing the task. “Want some?” he asked, already lighting the joint. He had been craving it since morning, but they were on a mission. And on missions he was always (mostly) sober. It was a promise to Dean after he first started taking drugs.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Dean was settling next to him on the rotten floor, deeply inhaling the smoke.

They were relaxing into each other, waiting for the sun to set and the night to come; ignoring the cold slowly creeping in from outside.  

“Looks like we have some time to kill”, Castiel mentioned after a while of silence.

“Yeah, looks like it …” Dean answered absently.

“It’s gonna be a cold night too.”

Dean slowly turned his head to look into Cas’ eyes. The once sparkling green eyes were tired and visibly numb. “So, you wanna fuck?” Dean asked without emotion.

“Like the world is ending.” Because it was.

@wigglebox

[xlllleda]

2014

[dogearedheart]

At The End Of All Things

"You know, Dean, I–" Cas pauses and Dean can see his jaw clenching and unclenching, his brows furrow. "I don't want you to feel like you have to carry this all on your own, because you don't. We're all stuck here. We are all hopeless and scared, and– I know it isn't much, but...I am glad it's us." "Yeah, I– me too, man. Me too." And who was Dean to want more than this? - or - The world is ending, and there is nothing Dean can do about it, but he isn't alone. He has Cas. They have each other. Dean just needs a little time. Because this story is, above all else, about hope.

Read more on Ao3

Here is a snippet:

Dean tries to ignore the disappointment that leaks into his bones when he arrives and realizes that the lights in the cabin aren't on yet. He shakes his head and laughs at himself. This is ridiculous. Dean closes the door behind him and turns on the lights. It takes a few moments before the lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling turns on with a faint click. 

The place is decent. Most of the cabins have a similar layout, a big living room with a small kitchenette situation, a bathroom, and a bedroom or in Dean's case two bedrooms. They had managed to make themselves at home the best they could with what they had, and living with Cas turned out to be much easier than Dean had thought. In the shelter of these walls, it almost felt like they were living a normal life. Cas and Dean had spent hours on their shared sofa, planning and researching ways to stop the end of the world, but they'd also spent an equal amount of hours just talking, drinking, and simply... being. Dean justified their little roommate situation as something necessary for them to make progress in their big plan to get Sam back. So sharing a cabin with Cas had been, above all, a matter of convenience. 

"Are you going to stand there all night?"

Dean jumps slightly at the sound of the voice he'd recognize anywhere. "Jesus- fuck, Cas!" He puffs before turning around. Dean catches sight of his friend's silhouette – all broad shoulders and messy hair – in a corner of the room. 

"You look terrible." 

Dean can hear the amusement in Cas' voice as he pushes himself from where he is currently leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom. He walks a few steps in Dean's direction, and Dean moves without thinking, meeting Cas halfway, taking him in a tight embrace. Cas returns the hug without hesitation, and Dean feels his body relax against strong and comforting arms. On instinct, he buries his face in the crook of Cas' neck and takes a deep breath. Cas smells like cedar wood and smoke, he smells like soil and sweat.

Dean is finally home. 

"Good to see you too, man. You look–" Dean begins, but stops when he gets a better look at Cas under the artificial light of their kitchen. He glimpses at the dried blood on Cas' temple, then the black eye, and his busted bottom lip. 

He grabs Cas' shoulders, maybe a little too roughly, "Woah, what the fuck happened to you, man?" 

Cas just shrugs, eyes tired, but a soft smile adorning his lips. He loosens his grip around Dean's shoulders and takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides. The loss makes Dean frown, his hands move up on their own accord. It takes him a second to realize what he is doing, but when he does, Dean relaxes his face and crosses his hands over his chest. He leans against the kitchen counter behind him instead. 

Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth.