#I also think this led Cas' relationship with heaven reaching a point of no return

[confusedkittensposts]

@vaicomcas your old tags are soo right, they isolated Cas because they couldn't bare for him to have power and not be at their beck and call

cas actually brought together angels who would've killed each other and had them working peacefully under one roof trying to find a way to get home and helping humans and learning to live on earth with little normal things like having a drink at the bar after work and sam and dean really came in and just went. kinda weird y'all freaky cult vibe. like um. you two couldn't even stand to work as brothers this season sit down be humble

[idreamofplaid]

Fallen - Chapter 7

Summary: Sam thought he had found happiness, but now his past is back to haunt him. Lucifer has claimed the throne of heaven, and it is his intention that Sam should finally fulfill his destiny as King of Hell.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Marie, Solomon, court administrator (OCs)

Word Count: 2764

A/N: This chapter is based on the song “Meet Me on the Battlefield” by SVRCINA

Fallen Masterlist

Reader’s POV

No time for rest...nowhere to run from this

It was by far the most lavish room you had ever seen in person. It was like something out of a movie about a handsome billionaire playboy making his hedonistic way around the world. In other circumstances, this room might have meant luxury or pleasure to you; but not here and not now. Expensive Persian rugs covered the stone floors, artwork fit for a museum covered the walls, and there was a large canopy bed in the center of the room with purple silk drapes that looked like something out of an Elizabethan castle. It was, after all, the bedchamber of a king.

The only thing it represented to you now was the possibility of losing Sam forever. What did it mean that he had agreed to be King of Hell? There was no time to think about that. You needed to take care of him. The way Lucifer tortured him to get him to agree was brutal, but even then he had refused. Sam only agreed when you asked him to because you couldn’t watch Lucifer torture him anymore.

Sam’s upper body was covered with wounds. Lucifer had used the hot poker mostly on his chest and shoulders, but there were also burns on his back and stomach. You helped Sam sit down in one of the velvet upholstered chairs. His breathing was labored, and he grabbed one of the chair arms to steady himself. His brow was covered with the sheen of sweat, and his eyes were partially glazed over from the lingering pain.

You needed to find something to clean Sam up and bandage his injuries. There were two large wooden doors in the room. Hopefully, something would be behind one of them that would be of use. The first door was the entrance to a walk in closet that was bigger than your bedroom back in the bunker. The shelves and racks inside it were filled with clothes, but you couldn’t imagine there was anything in there that would be of help.

The second door proved to be more promising. It led to the en suite bathroom. You headed for the medicine cabinet. There was a bottle of painkillers, and not the kind you got over the counter. That was the only useful thing you found. There wasn’t antiseptic or anything resembling burn ointment. It was probably a safe assumption that the King of Hell wouldn’t need anything like that because no one would be able to hurt him.

You grabbed the bottle of pills, ran a washcloth under some cool water, and returned to Sam. Your fingers tightened around the cloth you were holding when you saw the angry red marks on his body. His head was laid against the back of the chair, and he clutched the arm. You knelt beside him and put the materials you’d found on a nearby table.

“Sam?” You wanted to touch him, but decided maybe it wasn’t the best thing to do right now.

He raised his head and opened his eyes. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You did take his hand then. “Oh, Sam. You’re the one who’s hurt.”

Sam gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter about me.”

“Don’t say that.” You let go of his hand, opened the bottle of pills, and poured one out into your palm. You placed it in Sam’s hand. “Take this.”

He swallowed it dry. “This is all my fault.” You dabbed at his face with the washcloth, afraid to put it on his burns. The last thing you wanted to do was cause him anymore pain. “You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me. I brought you here.” His eyes were full of a pain worse than physical.

You stopped washing his face. “Sam, you didn’t bring me here. None of this is because of you. It’s Lucifer and his crazy obsession about you. I wouldn’t….”

Around the shadows creep

Your words were cut off by a knock at the door. Sam’s eyes caught yours, and he shifted in his chair. There was a flash of uncertainty and maybe fear in his eyes. He was still weak from the ordeal he’d been through. “Stay here, Sam. I’ll get it.”

You walked to the large double doors and opened the one on the right. A striking woman was standing before you. Her presence was such that you were surprised when she dropped a slight curtsy. “My lady, I am here to serve you.”

For a moment, you fumbled for words unsure how to respond. “We’re...there’s nothing you can do for us right now.” You held the door, conscious of Sam and the state he was in at present.

Her demeanor had been so subservient to this point, you were surprised when she pressed the issue. “Perhaps I could just freshen up your linens or offer you some refreshment.”

You faltered. Refreshment? What was she talking about? “It’s not the best time right now. Really, we’re fine.”

She continued. “It will only take a minute, ma’am. It is required of me to do my job.”

For someone who defined her purpose as one of service, she was persistent when you said no. Above the pleasant smile on her face, there was a solid and quietly determined look in her eyes. You opened the door and let her pass.

She started toward the bed, presumably to fluff the pillows or something else she considered important. By the time she got to the center of the room, her attitude had changed. The unknown woman turned to you and spoke with urgency in her voice, “We don’t have much time. They’re watching me.”

You went to Sam and stood by him protectively unsure where this was headed. She noticed your stance and took in Sam’s condition with a sweep of her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt him. I’m here to help you.” The woman moved quickly. She placed two fingers on Sam’s forehead the way you had seen Cas do it. Light glowed from her fingertips, and Sam’s wounds disappeared.

Healed, Sam jumped from the chair, placed his hands on your shoulders, and pulled you behind him. “Who are you? Why are you here?” The strength had returned to his voice. 

There was no hesitation on her part. “I believe I’m what you’d call a double agent.  I’m a fallen angel; I was formerly known as Mariel, but now my name is Marie. I have no loyalty to hell; they consider me a prize. An angel turned demon? There’s great power there, but I have no intention of turning my back on my angel nature.”

You took a step from behind Sam. “But why? Why do you want to help us?” 

“Heaven is in disarray. Hell is a vacuum. Disaster will come of that if something isn’t done.” She looked pointedly at Sam. “Your boyfriend has leadership potential, the kind that could get us out of this mess.”

Just want to lay me down and finally try to get some sleep

After Marie left, you sent Sam to the shower where he could properly clean up. While Sam was showering, you explored the closet. Everything you might ever need was in there along with many things you could never imagine yourself wearing. There was an entire section of expensive gowns, the kind of clothes you saw on red carpets. Queen of Hell. You took a deep breath. You’d think about that later. Right now, you needed to find some clothes that were suitable for sleep.

A few minutes later, Sam emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. You handed him a t-shirt and pajama pants you’d found. Sam dropped the towel and took the sleep clothes from you. You lowered your eyes to his testicles to make sure all of him had been healed from Lucifer’s torture. Sam saw you looking. He cupped your cheed in his hand. “I’m okay, Y/N.”

You reached up and grazed your fingertips over the now healed skin on his chest. Your lip started to tremble, and you fell against him. Sam let go of the clothes he was holding and caught you in his arms. “Sam, how are we going to get out of here?” 

He eased his hand into your hair and rested his chin on top of your head. “We’ll think of something, honey. We will.” You closed your eyes to block out where you were and just focused on the way Sam felt. He could still make you feel secure in his arms, hell or not. 

Sam kissed the edge of your forehead just beneath your hairline. He broke your embrace long enough to put on the nightclothes you’d found for him, then he wrapped his arm around you again and held you to his side. “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

You lay your head against his chest. “Okay.” Sam kept his arm around you on the walk over to that massive bed. When you got there, he pulled the covers back and settled you in beneath them. It was only a few seconds before you felt his weight dip the mattress and the warmth of his body beside you. You curled into him, and you each found comfort in the closeness of the other while you slept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remember what we’re fighting for

You woke up the next morning with Sam’s arms still close around you. It was quiet. Normally, that was something that would bring you peace, but now it just unnerved you. You thought about your baby back at the bunker. Would Dean know to buy formula for him now that you weren’t there to give him your milk? Tears flooded your eyes and spilled down your cheeks. How long would it be before you saw him again?

Quietly, you cried until you felt the pad of Sam’s thumb brushing away your tears. “You miss him.” Sam knew you well. “Me too. We’ll get back to him. I promise. Whatever I have to do we’ll get out of here and be with our son again.”

You wanted to be strong for him. Sam needed you too. You weren’t the only one who was separated from your baby, and Sam’s memories of hell had haunted him since the beginning of your relationship. Nightmares were a regular thing for him, and when he’d shared the contents of some of those nightmares with you, it had broken your heart. They were horrible, and you had a feeling Sam had kept the worst of it from you.

With that in mind, you pulled yourself together. “I know, Sam. And...you’re not alone. I’ll help you get us out of here.”

Sam looked at you; his eyes were a pool of amber in green. The expression on his face reminded you of the way he’d looked the first time he told you he loved you.

The moment was interrupted by a voice at the door. “Your Majesty?” The sound was startling and the words were strange. “Your Majesty, the court will be gathering in the throne room in twenty minutes to begin the day’s business.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meet me on the battlefield

Sam was dressed all in black to hold court. The suits in his wardrobe were of the finest quality, just like the dresses that had been chosen for you. He had foregone a tie and left the top two buttons of his shirt open. It could have been easy to focus on how handsome he looked if he wasn’t sitting on the throne of hell.

A smaller chair had been place next to Sam’s for you. It wasn’t nearly so throne like, but it was ornate denoting your rank and importance. You had chosen a wine colored gown that was simply cut and accented with lace. It was important that you play the part of queen and support Sam without drawing too much attention to yourself.

The room was filled with demons, all of them attentive to Sam’s every move. Marie’s was the only familiar face you saw, reminding you just how perilous your current situation was; everything was unknown. So far, Sam hadn’t said anything. One of the demons eventually stepped forward and addressed him, breaking the silence. “Your Majesty, the first petitioner of the day is the Crossroads Demon, Thaddeus. He wishes to plead his case by way of explanation for his declining numbers.”

Everything could stay the same, or we could change it all

When the announced demon entered, you were surprised. You hadn’t known that many crossroads demons, but he went completely against type. There was an air of aristocratic entitlement about him, and maybe that was part of the problem. 

Sam flipped through the clipboard filled with reports he had been given and came back to the one on top. He addressed the demon who had been brought before him. “It says here that the number of crossroads deals you finalized in the last quarter was down by 23% from the previous quarter.”

Thaddeus inclined his head toward Sam. It was a show of respect that didn’t appear to have much sincerity behind it. “Sire, if I may? Those numbers do not reflect the quality of the souls I have been acquiring for hell.”

Sam’s gaze was fixed on the demon, and his eyes narrowed. “Quality? What do you mean?.”

“The current emphasis on numbers does not take into account that many of the souls making deals were bound for hell anyway.” Thaddeus paused, and when Sam said nothing; he continued. “The true triumph is in acquiring a soul for hell we would have otherwise lost.”

Sam still didn’t say anything. In this type of situation one of two things could happen. He was definitely thinking; Sam was always thinking. He would either keep his conclusions to himself, which he figured was the wiser thing to do, or his convictions were such that he would make an unwavering proclamation. In this case, it was the latter.

“I don’t see a problem with these numbers. A silence fell over the court. “In fact, I think they should be lower. You should stop making deals altogether.”

The demon’s smooth facade slipped. “Excuse me, sire?”

Sam’s tone was resolute. “I said stop making deals.”

We count the sins again, out tainted history is playing on repeat

A rumble went up in the room, and a wave of shock and confusion spread over the faces of the gathered demons. Near the doors that entered the chamber, a tall demon leaned down to the court administrator and whispered something in his ear. He listened carefully then stood and without addressing Sam announced, “This morning’s audience is over. Everyone please clear the chamber.”

When the room was empty, the mysterious figure who had started this chain of events with his words approached the throne. There was no acknowledgement of Sam’s title; he just started speaking. “I am Ambassador Solomon.”

Sam reached for your hand and took it in his own before replying. “Ambassador?”

The man in front of Sam was almost as tall as he was and broad. He made an imposing figure. “Yes. Lord Lucifer has appointed a Corp of Ambassadors in Heaven. I am the ambassador to hell.” He paused for effect. “That means I am here to oversee your transition to power, Your...Majesty.”

Ambassador Solomon turned in the direction of the court administrator and snapped his fingers. The demon moved instantly to his side. Solomon waved his hand in the air, and a goblet appeared in his outstretched fingers. With his other hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a knife. He handed it to the subordinate demon beside him. The court administrator took it and sliced into his arm. Blood poured out, and Solomon caught it in the goblet.

After a substantial amount of blood filled the glass, Solomon walked toward Sam and held the cup aloft. You felt Sam’s fingers tighten over yours. Then the Ambassador extended the goblet toward him, waiting for Sam to take it. You squeezed Sam’s hand and heard him say, “No, I won’t.”

Solomon didn’t falter. “You will because this is what you agreed to.” He cast his eyes in your direction then back to Sam.

Sam released your hand and took the glass from him. He didn’t look at you, but you couldn’t take your eyes from him. You held your breath, and a wave of dread settled over you as you watched Sam lift the chalice to his lips and drink.

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @maddiepants @outcastedangel @iknowwheremytowelis @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything 

Sam/Jared Love: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @idabbleincrazy​ @evansrogerskitten​ @focusonspn​ @i-joined-social-media-finally​ @wingledsam​ @autumninavonlea​ @spnxbsessed​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @wendibird​ @fantasy-shadows​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @waywardnerd67​ @neii3n​ @fullmooner​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​ @songbird400

Fallen: @stephaniecanfield96us​ @petitegateau911

[spnsmile]

Title: Burn out this Love

Summary:

Complete blackout in the Bunker during a stormy night has TFW2.0 setting up candles in the war room except Dean accidentally lights one of the cursed candles that extracted a part of himself that believes he loves Castiel. A shaman comes to help but not really, resulting in the angel’s short temper and taking matters in his own hands to make Dean remember. Dean did not forget his name after.

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 9390

Tags/Warning: non/Con, dubcon, Curses, Fluff, Domestics, Established destiel

Written for @supernaturalpromptchallenge March prompt: Element: fire-candle

It was a precarious move, so Castiel silences everything of the earth’s natural orchestra always playing by his ears. From the nonstop spatter of rain on the muddy ground to the howling wind beating against the fort’s thick walls. The electrical hum silently permeating the stone confines to the droplets of water from the sink.

He narrows down the sound to the light tapping of Sam Winchester’s fingers on the keyboard. Jack’s distinct swallows of anticipation beside him. And Dean humming contentedly across the table, waiting for the next course of action to transpire.

Castiel opens his eyes. He raises his left hand with two delicate fingers like pincers and with precision, jabs it at the wooden block of his choice in the second level of the towering pile of Jenga he, Dean and Jack had been huddled around.

There’s a second of everyone holding their breath. Even Sam’s fingers have stopped typing. Dean’s eyes are so round, breath held, Castiel can almost feel his controlled excitement. But he got this.

He meticulously extracted a brick in one pull without making the almost 24 cm tower tumble. Dean sighs with a small, biting his bottom lip to keep whatever he wants to say while Jack’s mouth drops as Castiel stacks the brick up the tower deftly. He then beams at Dean and Jack when the tower remained steady.

“That wasn’t so hard. This indoor game is actually quite entertaining. Humans really are creative when left in their own devices being stuck inside their homes.”

He clasps both his hands on the table then stares at Dean.

Stuck that afternoon because of rain with no case at hand, they were easily convinced by Jack to play Jenga. At first, Dean didn’t want to participate, but one look from the angel gets him to agree. He vowed to destroy Castiel teasingly before they begin.

Except Cas isn’t prone to losing this one yet.

“Your turn, Dean.” Jack says, “Those blocks on the second and third level looks very shaky.” Dean glares at Cas

“Yeah, because somebody insisted on taking out all the foundation on the get-go. Ten minutes later and welcome to Pisa.”

“Rules of Jenga states that you have to remove a brick from a layer other than the top—”

“Like heck I’ll give you top even in this one, babe.” Dean cuts in slyly.

Castiel’s eyes narrow at his boyfriend who looks really fine with his finger-combed hair straight from the shower. He could tell by the strong smell of the hunter’s shampoo pervading the air. He is wearing his soft green top that always matches his eyes. Castiel prefers those one-color coded than the flannels, though he would never be averse to any clothing as long as it includes Dean.

Dean takes a shot in the middle of the tower, then seconds later extracted another brick.

“I got one for tops in ten seconds. Gonna get your ass next, Cas.”

Castiel only deadpans. Dean is obviously flirting with him now but he doesn’t know what to do except stare. He doesn’t remember when this had become a battle of position but he returns the intent gaze with usual deadpan.

“I was using my non-dominant hand.”

Castiel raises his left with an eyebrow up, smiling. Dean huffs in disbelief and was about to put the brick on the top of the tower when Castiel’s phone suddenly rings.

Dean yelps in surprise and knocks the entire tower, sending bricks on the table and the floor with loud thudding sounds. Castiel catches one brick on the way to the ground, watching everything fall apart. Dean groans and smacks his fist on the table while Jack smiles all cheeks like he’s been waiting for it to happen.

“I’ll help get them.” He says instead.

“Who’s callin?” Dean says grudgingly.

They all look at Castiel who’s fishing inside his coat. He shrugs at the look Dean gives him as he takes his phone out. “Oh, it’s my contact—one of the angels.”

Dean makes a face and grumbles.

“Looks like your top didn’t make it, Dean.” Sam remarks lightly from the end of the table.

“Shut up.” Dean snaps, “I’ll win Cas one of these days.”

“A foreseeable future in an alternate universe.”

“Shut up, you want me, Cas.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow scathingly

“No, but I need you to help pick up the wood, Dean. Yes, hello? Uh… yes, you did call inconveniently, I was in the middle of something—”

“My my, this wood’s hard.” Dean kneels on the floor with the voice loud enough to be heard on the angel’s phone.

“Dean,” Sam says in warning.

Giving Dean an intense look, Castiel nods on his phone then hangs up. He stands up and walks to the hunter, kneels in front of Dean who freezes at the sudden approach till Castiel reaches out and tilts his chin up. Sam looks away pointedly.

“Bad boy, Dean.”

Dean’s whole face flushes as red as a tomato.

“I understand it now.” Comes Jack’s voice, severing the spell the two had fallen under when the Nephilim appears behind the angel.

“What did you understand?” Castiel takes the bricks from the boy, feeling Dean’s eyes hot on his back. Jack nods with eyes round.

“This game is much like when people try to reach the top of heaven, but god punished them by taking out what makes them stronger together one by one. Like in the Tower of Babel.”

Dean resurfaces from the trance, blinking.

“He’s all yours.”

Castiel smiles. “It does appear to be all interrelated when you stop and think about it, though, in reality, the prophet of the lord during that time was a bad drunk who was trying to dispute ownership over a windmill farm from his brother. Eventually ending their relationship. Only because his brother refused to speak with him, thus context. But it’s more of the lesson of the story, Jack, rather than the myth behind it. I need to go.”

Dean’s head snaps up from the table.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“To meet my contact? That’s why he called, you heard him, Dean.”

“I heard him destroy my chances of topping.” Dean frowns. Castiel can see the argument rising from his face so he chooses his words carefully.

“He requires my assistance.”

Dean blinks, “Okay, wait for me I’ll go get my coat—”

“Uh, no, Dean. You can’t accompany me.” Because like most angels, this one is also wary of Dean Winchester. All angels—all Supernatural beings are.

“Stop joking around.”

“I’m not. I think you know when I am.” Castiel says drily.

 “What— you serious? But we had an agreement not to go out of the house without—"

“Um… Bunker hall pass?”

Sam snorts while Castiel hesitates when he sees Dean frown deeper.

Hall pass as he understands means something about … Winchesters want to do something private which basically is like the loophole in the whole agreement. It’s that pass where they do stupid stuff or deals or meetings without the others knowing.

They all agreed to never go out of the Bunker without a partner according to Dean. If it’s a hunt, it’s usually Sam and Dean together. But if it’s grocery shopping or Dean needing to have some fresh air it’s always Castiel on tow. Castiel doesn’t necessarily require the same attention, though he treasures Dean’s company to a fault.

He doesn’t understand the confused expression on Dean’s face.

“Cas, unless it’s a date you wanna get laid at, geez, I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not. Listen to me, Dean. You really can’t tag along.”

“But it’s raining.” Dean points. Castiel tilts his head, wordless. Dean stares at him, shifting from one foot to another before his expression closes into a grim.

“Fine. Go then.”

There’s nothing much left for Castiel to do when the man leaves.

Castiel quietly watches him go. No sooner than he left, the angel heard a distinct exploding sound somewhere far and the entire Bunker is enveloped in darkness.

***

Castiel stares blankly at the wall of the kitchen to the dancing shadow of Dean Winchester. He followed Dean ten minutes later and stationed himself by the door watching Dean busy himself by the sink, washing his hands with the flashlight of his cellphone, his sleeves pushed up his elbow and humming Led Zepp Castiel is already quite familiar.

“Dean.”

“What.”

“There’s been a massive blackout,” Castiel informs him.

“Don’t I know it? What are you still doing here? I thought your gonna have a date n stuff?”

“I don’t date.” Castiel rolls his eyes. “At the very least if their name is not Dean Winchester, I do not bother.” He sees the visible tension disappear on the man’s shoulder. It gets him talking more to get on Dean’s good side again. “I’ve decided not to go. It’s raining and I don’t want my boyfriend upset even though it’s ridiculous to be jealous—”

Dean coughs several times and swings to face the angel with the back of his hand on his lips. His ears are pink, Castiel can tell even from the dark.

“B-boyfriend?” he blurts out in shock.

“Unless you prefer that I call our engagement with different terminology. I believe the word ‘boyfriend’ is what this century is calling it nowadays. Or would you prefer to be my ‘beau’?” he narrows his eyes. To be honest he will prefer anything as long as he can tell their relationship is special. But Dean—

“N-no, I like boyfriend.” Dean stammers, turning back the sink and washing the frozen meat from the fridge. Castiel smiles and walks to him. He likes it when Dean gets all flustered because of something he said. Dean’s always been like that from the beginning.

Wrapping his arms around the hunter, Castiel sighs in contentment when he inhales Dean’s scent. Dean tenses in front of him but Castiel kisses the back of his neck, urging him to relax while he presses Dean back on the counter, body solidly against each other.

“Stop getting me a boner, Cas.” Dean chuckles.

Tag: Explicit

“Mmm. Why not?” Cas smiles, brushing his hand on top of the hunter’s fly. He can feel Dean’s body going rigid, his breath hitching. “I thought you said this is what boyfriends do?” He bites Dean’s ear. Too irresistible not to do it.

“Dammit, Cas—"

“I like it when you get angry with me.” Castiel whispers, unzipping Dean’s pants and snaking his deft hand inside his boxers. Dean is hard. The way he can easily turn Dean on is mesmerizing. “Because I know you’re worried. I know you care a lot. I’d prefer it anytime than you uncaring. Love it when you’re jealous.” He nips on the smooth skin, running his tongue back to Dean’s lobes and sucking hard.

“Now you’re tripping me—fuck!”

Dean squirms back against Castiel’s body, his ass pressing hard against the angel’s hips. It’s all sensual to him, all because Dean is a very sensitive man. It’s not physical alone, though that’s what draws Dean to Castiel at the beginning while Castiel is the exact opposite.

He saw Dean’s soul first and fell in love. Gradually, they were able to piece themselves together and now what’s between is both. Castiel understands that now. Dean is turned on sensually, emotionally and it’s mutual between them. It’s everything Castiel loves about Dean. But body contact is not to be undervalued either—Dean strives to be touched, hungry for it always, he spent the rest of his life seeking company on lonely nights. Now he’s with Castiel—responding to every caress because only Castiel knows how.

So, when he strokes Dean, they both know it’s more than just touches. Dean breathes like all the air is leaving his lungs. When Castiel presses his thumb on the delicate slit in the middle of the pulsing cock, they both know the running pleasure is multiplied by the thought of who is doing it. Castiel is. To Dean.

And Cas knows how to serve him. Grabbing Dean’s hair with his free hand, he presses their heads together, his lips on Dean’s ear. “Are you going to come for me, Dean?”

It’s enough to get Dean convulsing on his palm.

“Cas— shit—” Dean's hand grapples the edge of the sink while his other grasped behind him to Castiel’s hips. His knees are wobbling against the angel. “C-Cas I’m almost—”

His voice just breaks in the most arousing way. Castiel turns Dean’s head and kisses him hard, enjoying the heat coming from the hunter’s lips, the way it’s so open in submission as dominates their exchange. He pumps Dean harder in the middle of his release, shooting off the sink’s ceiling and on Castel’s hand.

Dean groans and falls back weakly on the angel but Cas got him. He embraces Dean. Plants soft kisses around Dean’s salty throat, his hand still slowly stroking Dean’s cock till he feels it soften in his palms. Dean is breathing hard and Castiel feels a little proud to the one to do that. Things had been very peaceful around them since they both woke up from the idiot dream after their confession of love. Castiel will never forget it.

“Can I help with anything else?” he asks after thoroughly cleaning Dean with his grace and tucking his cock back in before unzipping his fly.

“You just jerked me in front of my bacon.”

“I cleaned it.”

“You just took advantage of me cause it’s dark here.”

“That is true, but you also did say that’s what humans do in the dark with four walls and blankets. We don’t have blankets—do I need to get one?”

“Unless you want to fuck me on the table?” the way Dean sounds hopeful gives Castiel a headache.

 “We’ll have that when we can. For now, if you’re done fixing dinner, I will go call Sam and Jack so we can all be here. I’m sure they found the candles by now.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Candles? What are they—kids? No, use flashlights, the candles are last resorts. I have flashlights in the cabinet. Or make em use their phones.”

“I do not think that’s a good idea considering you might need your phones to communicate outside if the blackout persists.”

“Uh… You’re right.” The hunter smiles smugly all of a sudden, “Then can you be like my lamp now? You know—badass angel glowing light in the middle of the room—

“Umm, if I do that the entire Bunker will be enveloped with pure light and since it’s dark outside, the possibility of getting detected by your world’s ‘space cadets’ as you call them is at risk. So now. I do not believe it’s very smart to use my grace at all, Dean. Let’s reserved that for a real emergency.” Castiel glares.

“Geez, alright.” Dean laughs, wiping his hands with the towel hanging by his left shoulder. “Hang on, I’ll go with you to get the flashlights. Their only under the Ham radios.”

“Okay.”

“Wait— Cas!”

Dean surprises Castiel when he suddenly pulls him back, cups his face and catches his lips into a mouth to a kiss with the hunter leading.

Castiel smiles. He likes it when Dean is spontaneous like that. He lets Dean take him. When they pull away, Dean is looking at him with eyes full of love. Castiel nudges his nose on Dean’s lips and sighs. Together, they walk back to the library, all tensions obviously have been released away.

“But, really, candles?” Dean says in the dark.

Castiel uses the opportunity to pull Dean forward. “So, you can ask them. Let’s go.”

“Don’t make me trip on you—”

“You’re the one who keeps pushing—Dean!”

“Sorry!” Dean laughs, “Was that your ass or what?”

Rolling his eyes, he lets Dean pat his ass again until they reach the corridor. Sam’s laptop screen is on, the only light amidst complete darkness. In front of it, Sam looks up with Jack waiting beside him. “Finally decided to appear now, huh?”

“While you guys are playing another set of ‘Are you afraid of the Dark?’ episode?” Dean is clearly looking at Sam who rubs his forehead and nods at Jack.

“We’re waiting for Cas.” Jack explains brightly, eyes on the. “The candles are still unlit so I was thinking if you can use your grace them get them light up.”

Castiel doesn’t quickly answer but throws a look over Dean instead.

“It’s raining and there are candles. Add a cat and we’ll be calling out Sabrina. I can’t even see the candles!” Blinking hard with brows furrowing, he and Castiel steps to the table, casting looks over the place

 “I’m not sure I can light all, Jack.” Castiel says solemnly.

“Sure you can.” Jack encourages.

“Just makes sure you don’t make any light bulbs burst and eyes burn.” Dean chuckles.

Castiel glares at that. He notices Dean emerging from under the table and pulling a box under the table to duck from his glare. Huffing, Castiel snaps his fingers and—

The fire flickers out of thin air from the four candles in the middle, lightening the whole war room with the dancing flames, sending their shadows tall on the walls. Castiel sees Jack beam and it made the effort worth it.

“And this,” comes Dean’s voice. Nobody saw him put another candle on the table. They found him already with a matchstick at hand, scraping the corner and tipping down the thick wax candle with an X-mark—

“Dean—wait—!” Sam begins, but too late— Dean lights the candle. The moment the flame flickers on the candle, Dean’s eyes roll back with white balls showing and he drops on the floor out cold.

“DEAN!”

“It’s a cursed object, obviously. Are you sure you’re with proper hunters? One look of the object and—”

“It’s a long story—there’s no electricity when you need it. I could power it up, but Sam says— anyway, just come here—I don’t care if it’s raining. I want to make sure he’s going to be okay after the candle dies out—” Castiel listens to the shaman’s mundane complaints while the angel stands outside the corridor right outside Dean’s room.

His body is still shaking as he relieves the memory of Dean fainting after lighting the cursed candle. Saw something leave Dean’s body that made him reach for the hunter and clutch him close. Protecting Dean at all costs. In the end, after determining it was a cursed candle from the box that Jack brought in the room unwittingly, Castiel resorted to calling his only resource for magical objects, The Shaman, Sergei.

After sending a photo of the nasty candle he wants to melt, his opinion changed drastically upon learning that Dean’s life force is connected to the candle. Now it became the most important thing for him.

“Be quick, I’m warning you, Sergei.”

Castiel hangs up and sprints back to Dean’s room. He can still feel his heart wild against his chest anxiously. The way it happened— he saw something get sucked away from Dean’s body when he lit the candle. Sergei only confirmed his suspicion which didn’t make him feel any better.

But at least it wasn’t any candle about death….

Sam brought his rechargeable lamp in the room that lit the entire vicinity conveniently. Sam looks up questioningly when Castiel comes in and Cas had no choice but to give him a curt nod.

“Yes, Sergei says it’s a curse.”

Sam’s face turns pale. “And? What kind of curse?”

“I don’t know… Sergei’s not sure but he says it could be of Japanese origin but apart from that we still have to wait for Sergei to confirm. He still wants to come over and see for himself.”

“Okay, that’s a plan.” Sam stands up and palms his face. “But I’m still going to search around lore books about Japanese curses then. I don’t trust Sergei. Do you?”

He frowns up at Sam. “I have every reason to doubt Sergei. He will be under my watch once he’s here. He should not be left with Dean. And even if it is the only threat of the cursed candle, I still would not relax until I see Dean as himself again. I’m afraid so trusting Sergei is the only thing we have for now.”

They all look at Dean fast asleep on his bed with the candlelight burning over the table by his wall.

Everyone knows it is Castiel who will be watching over Dean for the rest of the night. Sam left the room to do research in his room and see what else he can find with an extra flashlight at hand. Jack decides to let Cas and Dean alone and once everything is quiet, Castiel naturally focuses on Dean.

He sits beside the hunter’s bed, eyeing every feature of Dean he’s already memorized by heart. One look and he can tell something is missing, though whether it’s for the best, he is not one to decide. He places two fingers on his friend’s forehead and sighs. He closes his eyes, heartbreaking again when he could not reach onto Dean’s soul.

Castiel stays inside Dean’s room for the better part of the night, watching for any slight changes or disturbance over the hunter’s peaceful slumber. There’s none. In fact, Dean barely stirred on the bed unaware of the raging weather outside. If it was not for his chest moving steadily, Castiel would worry about his life.

He spends an hour like that, just staring at Dean’s face for the rest of the evening, recounting his freckles, noting those that faded and delighting himself in finding new ones.

He touches Dean’s forehead from time to time, let his fingers run down the soft hair. Let’s his warmth fill the empty vessel of his boyfriend. He knows it’s unnecessary, but he could not stop. Won’t. He’d do it even with a hairbreadth of grace left in his body.

He stares at Dean.

Achingly. Longingly. Willing those eyes to open for him again. So, he waits. He always waits for Dean. It only seems proper because it’s Dean who made him realize how waiting can sometimes be unbearable. Time is a concept no angel understood before.

Until Dean.

Nightmares didn’t visit Dean that night. Dean does not have any reason to fear, Castiel is beside him. The true nightmare is waiting for Dean alone in the silence of the night. So, if someone asks Castiel if he has any fear at all, Castiel will think of this moment and tells them he does.

***                                          

The Shaman arrived around half past nine, two hours after Dean’s collapse. By then power was still absent, making it difficult for Sam to use his laptop. The Bunker’s generator hasn’t worked since the last invasion in the fortress.

Descending from the metal stairs with wet shoulders from the rain outside, he cast his eyes at the faces waiting for him by the war table looking like a phantom in black apparel, the lights of candles whipping in his presence.

“Has he woken up?” Sergei asks deadpan.

“Not yet.” Castiel shakes his head, “It’s only been two hours. Are you sure the lasting effect of the candle is only 7 hours?” Sergei looks pass Sam to the entrance of the corridor eagerly. He turns to Castiel again.

“Yes, unless you use the other two candles then the curse will continue.”

Castiel and Sam exchange looks. The Shaman raises an eyebrow.

“There are three candles for the shrine ritual,” he begins slowly, “together the three can have significant influence over the balance of nature. Do you mean to tell me—?”

“I kept the other candles in the box.” Sam presses his lips.

“Very well, please bring them into the room. Castiel? Can you lead the way?”

Castiel did not say anything. The look Sam gives him is meaningful, but since the hour is dire, the two decided to do as the Shaman says. Castiel leads the way to Dean’s room while Jack accompanies Sam to the storage room.

Once they reach the hunter’s room, Castiel quickly checks on Dean. The hunter is still fast asleep with no sign of any disturbance in his absence. Sergei doesn’t wait. He slides past Castiel and takes a look at the hunter from head to toe, then walks to the candle still burning bright by the table.

Castiel watches Sergei’s movement with his brows slowly furrowing.

“Will he be okay?” he stands beside Sergei, expression softening at Dean’s sleeping form.

“I need some time alone with him. The spell for—”

“No.”

He meets Sergei’s eyes but the final word is apparently with the clouding of his face.

“Fix him.” He says sharply, “And don’t do anything suspicious or I’ll smite you.”

Sergei quirks his eyebrows. “Always the Russian method with you.”

Castiel doesn’t like it. Truth be told, he’s wary of repeatedly asking the Shaman for help. He’s been pushing Sergei to the limits, always asking for favors they both know would never be compensated. It’s only a matter of time before the Shaman gets back to him. Sam shouting in the corridor at the top of his lungs seems to be the cue.

“Your other Winchester needs you.” they both look at the door but Castiel did not move from

“What are you not telling me, Sergei?”

“CAS!” Sam appears by the door, breathless. “Cas! Don’t let him near Dean!”

Castiel doesn’t ask why. He grabs Sergei by the collar and lifts him up the air before Sam can even finish. He’s been alert from the beginning— expecting danger lurking around and with an unconscious Dean, he’s not about to put his guard down.

Sergei is clutching his wrist tightly, choking as he writhes against Castiel’s hold. Castiel whose eyes gleam darkly, fixing the Russian with his penetrating stare.

“What…” he says, dangerously calm, “are you not telling me?”

There’s a groan on the bed. Castiel distractedly looks down at Dean stirring. Sergei chuckles and presses something hot on his hands. He feels his whole body becomes rigid—the ability to move gone from whatever the Shaman did.

“No!”

Sam comes forward, lunging at Sergei who was leaning on Dean’s side. He grabs him by the shoulder to take him out but in the middle of the struggle, everyone sees him rise from the bed.

Castiel swallows hard. He feels his grace trying to reach out to him but couldn’t—his grace is locked away. But it’s not this that gets him worried.

It’s Dean. Dean is now fully awake, staring at Sergei with unblinking eyes.

“Shit.” Sam whispers.

That doesn’t bode well for Castiel.

Smite. Absolute smiting.

This is the only thing Castiel can think about when he heard the truth about the curse on Dean and Sergei’s intentions for his friend.

Apparently, the cursed candles are used in Japan’s ancient, most famous and terrible curse-a ritual done mainly by jealous and wronged lovers. The three candles are only part of the instruments— as Sam reads.

“…dressed in white and a trivet worn like a crown with three candles burning in the night, a doll made of bound straw and wooden hammer or long iron spikes… They would have in their possession a part of the victim they want to curse—a hair, skin blood, fingernail, even photographs and perform the ritual by any Shinto shrines and time to the Hour of the Ox, witching hour where yurei and yokai spirits come haunting…”

Castiel is only half listening. No. He is emitting a certain air of danger for the Shaman bound by the chair in the war room. Dean is still in his room with a headache while Jack stands outside his door. Half of Castiel’s mind is with Dean, sensing his every movement but he could not. He knows something is different and it’s that he will extract from Sergei by force.

He points his blade menacingly at the Shaman who pulls away from the pointed blade as far as he could. Castiel doesn’t mean to make contact. He can only see blood.

“That’s not the entire story behind this, is it, Sergei?” Castiel glowers. Sam joins him with arms crossed, glaring at the Russian.

“The candles have been used before and was stashed away with the remnants of the curse left in it. What I don’t understand is why lighting one would be harmful to anyone who uses it.”

“Not harmful, of course not. You do not understand the power of words entangled with pure hatred and love, do you?” Sergei begins hooded eyes on the hunter.

Castiel jabs his knuckle on Sergei’s jaw. It connects—Sam doesn’t even bother stopping the angel whose glinting blue eyes burned on the Shaman.

“Tell us everything before I kill you.”

“Cas…”

Sergei harkens a laugh but obliges. “Dead spirits linger on earth, you know, because of their attachment to the mortal world. And when I say attachment, we speak of their sentiments. Very dangerous even for mortal people to possess. Anger, hatred, injustice… bound to materialize when given too much power over poor souls. Now, Japanese witches, they have different sources of power with their deeper connection to the pagan gods their culture have embraced. More resources, more creativity when it comes to Witchcraft you in the West would never achieve.”

“What about you?” Cas asks.

“I’m Russian. Shaman, Castiel. A chosen profession by necessity. We do not need to keep the Supernatural hidden in the East. We bask in them. The people worship them. Acceptance of the Supernatural passed down from generation until, well. The invasion of West insisting on their god.” He looks pointedly at Castiel who continues to glower in his direction.

“What has this got to do with Dean?”

“The three-candles-curse stand for hatred, jealousy, and intent to harm. If passed on, these emotions are also transferred to the next caster. It doesn’t matter if you light the three, put it on your head like a crown. Once lit, the emotions will flood the caster and urge them to continue the curse till done. Your boyfriend—” he nods at the door, “who only lit one will only be affected by the chosen candle. The question here is which one did he light? The one for hatred? For jealousy? Or the intention to harm? We’re about to find out.”

Castiel hears the quiet footfalls of Dean followed by Jack coming from the corridor. Sergei sees them too, standing at the door with the hunter’s gaze quickly falling on the Shaman. His face is pale, Castiel can see dark lines under his eyes. But above that, he sees Dean’s soul has been clouded. Dimmed. He grits his teeth then pulls Sergei’s collar.

“It doesn’t make sense. If those negative emotions will transfer to him then why—why are you getting involved?”

“Ah, I did not say it will affect him in the same way.” Sergei says with a malicious glint in his eyes, “For if a person does not intend to do harm nor feel any certain hatred over another… if this person only accidentally lights the candles without any then what’s left will be the root of the magic which is—”

“Cas, what are you doing?” Dean growls, frowning. “Get away from him.”

Sam steps forward to meet Dean halfway while Jack follows behind the hunter uncertainly.

“Dean, this guy doesn’t want to help you, okay? He’s here to screw with us!”

Dean frowns. “What are you talking about? He won’t hurt me. Get out of the way, Sammy.” His green eyes swim towards Sergei, the dull eyes slowly gaining fire of determination. Castiel stands his ground as he understood how Dean’s eyes melt softly—and to the angel’s horror—

“I love him.” Dean reasons.

The blade falls on the floor with a solid thud.

Castiel takes a lungful of air, eyes not leaving Dean’s. Beside him, he hears Sergei’s dark voice, “Be careful, angel. The curse is twice bound. You don’t want to burn him, do you?”

What is the root of all curses that spark from emotions…?

Of course.

Love.

Dean is left in his room alone, cuffed and all after punching Sam for getting on his way. He was only stopped when Castiel and Jack take him too and locked him away.

“Don’t kill him yet, Cas,” Sam says before they part. Sergei has just smugly admitted he wanted to get back on Castiel even for just 7 hours by taking Dean’s affection. He knew this was gonna happen and its only Sam who’s stopping him from burying his angel blade on the Shaman. Sam takes care of Sergei, promising to throw him somewhere far where Dean would never reach him. Castiel is left to take care of Dean, so take care of Dean he will.

The lasting effect of the curse is until the candle dies out which Castiel left in Jack’s care. He trusts Jack. The fire wasn’t in any danger of dying its fire soon anyway. His heart breaks at the thought, but he can’t be weak. Dean needs him now. As long as the man doesn’t start proposing to Sergei, that is.

Sam told him to clear off Dean until the next five hours but Castiel made no promises. He knows the curse will be lifted on its own yet, he can’t. It’s Dean and no sooner than Sam left the Bunker around dawn, he finds himself traipsing down the hallway to the end of the corridor

Dejected atmosphere greets Castiel when he opens the door of the room. Dean has fallen silent with his wrists cuffed together on the table. He looks up when Castiel enters, but his green eyes swiftly look behind the angel-like he’s expecting someone there. Disappointment fills his expression and Castiel mirrors him. That is. Until he gets a hold of himself.

Sam said they will be laughing this out after the five-hour mark. That Dean would be so embarrassed to declare his undying love to the Russian Shaman who he will hunt for the rest of his life. Castiel doesn’t find it amusing. He saw Dean back there— he saw how Dean’s innate ability to love was robbed of the man.

If Dean was going to hunt for Sergei in the future, he better does it quickly before Castiel gets there before. He closes the door behind him and locks it.

Dean sits up with wary anticipation on the bed. Castiel eyes him predatorily. He sheds his trench coat first, folding it carefully at the back of Dean’s chair.

Dean in love with someone else? Now that’s laughable.

Dean is his.

Dean belongs to him.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Where is he?”

Castiel’s lips thin. He wants to say the Shaman is dead. Sergei will be once Castiel gets Dean’s heart back. He runs his hand on his tie before carefully pulling it away.

“Sam escorted him out of the Bunker. For your safety.” He says very quietly.

“Gee, thanks. Way to keep me in line, keeping away the only person who can straighten me out.” Dean kicks the side table enough to make Castiel finally look at him.

“Stop it. Destroying things won’t make you get your way. You’re only hurting yourself.”

“You know what the best way for me to actually not hurt myself?” Dean sneers, “Is for you to let me go!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, Dean. No. You’re only going to follow Sergei.” Castiel’s eyes are cold. “No, you stay here. With me.”

The man huffs angrily like it’s the last thing he wants in the world. If only his Dean can see himself now. Refusing Castiel’s company in the same room they’ve shared many times. What irony… but Castiel’s not about to let that stop him.

There’s a reason why Dean is locked here with him. He begins to unbutton his shirt, eyes gleaming when he sees Dean watch him warily.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Have you really forgotten our little secret, Dean?” Castiel asks, walking to the bed in two steps and stops in front of the man.

Dean looks up defiantly and Castiel finds himself like that. The number of times he and this man had gone against each other from the first time they met, Dean shines brighter like that. But when cornered like this like a prey, Castiel would rather Dean be a fighting soldier than a trapped animal.

The thought of Sergei touching Dean sets stone-cold dominance in his being. A possessive feeling of ownership takes him. Castiel suddenly becomes afraid of where it will take him as he touches the hunter’s chin and lifts it so the can peer him in the eyes, albeit a little dimmed, are still gorgeous green.

“I won’t let anyone, have you. Not by force.” He strokes Dean’s cheeks which turn the deepest shade of red. Dean still responds to him. At least, his body remembers this.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean swallows, eyeing Castiel’s open button shirt revealing a mass of strapping muscles like he’s never seen it before. But Castiel sees it. That look Dean reserves for things he wishes to taste but daring not to take—he’s seen that numerous times.

“We’re different. You and I…we’re—”

“Connected?” Dean meets his eyes and strange enough there’s a glint of hunger in those green that Castiel never expected to see—not until the curse is lifted, but it’s there.

“You seem to understand it, Dean. That you are under a curse and whatever you feel for Sergei—”

Dean sighs, his head tilting back. “I don’t feel the same about you.”

Castiel freezes, his heart falling on the floor. He needed to remind himself that this is not Dean talking. That Dean—his Dean— would never say that to him. That once this is over, Dean will apologize and Dean will want him again.

No… this Dean wants him.

He has to believe in that.

Leaning down, he tugs the cuff when he stretches Dean on the bed, pulling on his leg till Dean’s arm stretches above him. The hunter growls at the sudden prone position, but his eyes widen when Castiel unbuckles his own pants and let it slip down the floor. He feels Dean’s eyes follow his hard cock—because Castiel will always be hard for Dean—so when he crawls on top of Dean, he knows he’s got attention.

Dean has told him many times how he is fucking turned on when Castiel is naked waist below while still wearing his white unbuttoned tops. Dean’s fantasies Castiel is always willing to oblige. He casts his eyes down on the hunter when their faces are leveled.

Dean doesn’t move, it’s him breathes that rapidly changes. With eyes bulging, breathe hitching, Castiel feels his heart thumping at what’s about to happen next.

Heart leaping as he recognized Dean’s soul trying to reach to him, he takes hold of Dean’s shoulders and grips him tight. He doesn’t look away and the hunter remains silent.

Slowly, he pushes Dean on the bed, falling with him till Dean is on his back, breathing heavily, the lump on his throat unsteady as it bobbed up and down. Castiel straddles him, melting Dean with the amount of hunger in his eyes.

“You remember this, don’t you?” he whispers, stripping Dean from the lovely green shirt. Castiel tosses it and begins on Dean’s black undershirt when a hand jabs on his chest suddenly. Dean is blinking at him with fear and uncertainty.

“It’s not you I…Sergei—” Dean suddenly struggles to say.

Castiel doesn’t show his dismay. He conceals it. He knows Dean is fighting, knows Dean wants him to help him, to fight with him. So whatever doubt he has about what he needs to do next, he pushes it down. Dean’s clear eyes begin to cloud. It’s the curse.

He’s losing Dean.

Oh, a shaman is really going to die.

Castiel’s eyes bulge as the realization hits him hard.

Whatever Sergei said about wanting Castiel to be jealous—because that’s what he means when he told Castiel ‘Be careful, angel. The curse is twice bound. You don’t want to burn him, do you?”

He figures it out that instant—that Sergei’s intention is not for Dean but for him. Dean will be under this love spell for seven hours, crying for Sergei’s name in his sleep. Something that is truly unforgivable for the angel who then will have to suffer intense jealousy.

This… here right now… is extreme jealousy and hatred within him… the intent to harm all because of love. Castiel’s heart dies inside him. He is an angel, a heavenly being. He is not supposed to be bound by such negative emotion and yet—

He closes his eyes. It was too late to go back now.

Sergei has succeeded in cursing him through Dean.

His fingers curl clutching the hem of Dean’s black shirt. That’s not gonna happen. Dean looking at him like he’s a stranger even when his body is reacting, that’s not what they promised. It was stolen from Dean.

No… Dean was stolen from him.

He knows he can wait it out, knows there’s actually no reason to do this but just the thought of Dean thinking he’s in love with someone else sends fearsome anger rippling all over his body. With a growl, he pushes Dean’s black shirt up roughly, brushing the mound of muscle with the heel of his palm. He begins kissing the hardening bud ever so sensitive under his mouth.

“No…” Dean grunts, hands clutching the angel’s shoulders “Get off— I want Sergei!”

The name awakens something primal inside Castiel. Jealousy or what not— innate possessiveness or what not—this is torture!

 “You’re not putting much of a fight.” He sucks Dean’s nipples hard, making Dean squirm but Castiel stays one hand on his other pectoral, rubbing the unattended nipple with his fingers. Dean’s cries are so pleasing and both painful as Castiel faithfully continues his ministration for the next five minutes, rolling and flattening his tongue until the bud is hard. He grazes his teeth on the erect bud making Dean yelp and squirms beneath him. He applies the same suction on the left nipple, feeling the hunter writhe on the bed, trying to free his leg until Castiel grounds their hips together. He presses hard on Dean. The man groans softly.

Castiel frowns and looks down Dean’s pants to find the only possible reason is Dea still wearing his pants. Smiling, he gets up, straddles him and begins working on Dean’s belt.

“Wait—Cas…” his voice whimpers when Castiel pulls his pants and boxers down in one swift movement and throws it on the floor. Dean tries to hide his cock by crossing his legs, but Castiel is taking none of it. Pushing Dean’s legs apart, hands firm on his thighs, he let his palms ground Dean’s legs on the bed. Dean moves his ass, his cock twitching beneath him where he couldn’t see.

Sighing, Castiel slides both palms from the hunter’s knee caps down to the root of his cock. Both hands take it, Castiel’s body follows as he leans in, elbows keeping Dean’s leg open till the tip of his mouth touches the head of Dean’s cock.

There’s a stifled groan from Dean. Castiel closes his eyes. He erases the thought that Dean’s not thinking about him. That Dean is thinking of that dead-shaman walking. He digs his fingers on the man’s smooth thighs, sucks the top of his cock, before burying himself on Dean’s hole. He eats Dean, takes pleasure in the man’s cries until he can feel the live wire ready to explode. He takes Dean’s cock again to his lips, kisses the head gently before stroking him twice, eyeing Dean’s reaction.

“Cas—I’m—oh fuck!”

Castiel pulls away and sternly gazes up the hunter who whimpers and looks down in confusion. Tears slide from the corner of Dean’s eyes.

“Say my name,” Castiel commands.

“What…” Dean blanks out.

“Say my name. Tell me to fuck you, Dean, or I will leave you here for five hours—”

Dean’s eyes widen. He begins to tug on his cuff.

“Don’t—Cas, I—” he breathes out unable to say it. He shakes his head when Castiel begins to rise, “Cas—Cas please—” tears spring up from his eyes, “don’t—Cas, please—”

Castiel sighs. He strokes Dean’s cock, relaxing when Dean responds with trying to fuck in his hand. It’s easy to swallow Dean’s cock this time feeling like they are back to normal. He gets Dean to call his name again and again. He doesn’t need any release or Dean’s hand on his cock. He only needs Dean to say his name, all the while making his silent apologies.

He gets off with swallowing Dean’s cock straight down his throat and sucks, tasting Dean’s salty tang so different from his sweat. Feeling Dean’s familiar cock inside his mouth makes him forget everything. This is just him and Dean showing love and affection. Nothing has changed. He wishes that because now he understands he is taking Dean against his will.

He sucks Dean harder, making him scream and thrust in his mouth. He drags his mouth slowly across the hard length, pulling up only to kiss the reddening head before diving down again. He sucks Dean dry as only he could. Making Dean clutch on the wrinkled blankets with unbidden lust driving him to the edge.

“Cas… that’s enough, I’m—coming…!”

Castiel buries his nose deep the curls of Dean’s cock. He chokes and nearly pulls back but Dean closing his knees at the back of his head urges him to take him again.

Dean’s dirty sound fills the room as well as his cock swelling inside Castiel. He feels the turbulent sensation in Dean’s stomach and pulls up a little as Dean’s come shoot inside his mouth. Dean cries to the last spurt as Castiel sucks him through his orgasm.

He pulls out with smacking sound of his lips, eyes glowing with Dean still writhing under him. He holds the hunter’s softening shaft and stroke him again.

“Unggg…”

“Dean. Say my name.”

“Cas…!” the hunter complies tearfully.

Dean won’t stop calling his name after that. Not when he flips him to his stomach and licks his hole, not even with three fingers inside Dean, he doesn’t. It takes a while before Dean’s pliant body is ready for him. Castiel raises Dean’s hips from the bed and sets a pillow under his torso. Dean breathes heavily on the bed but did not say anything, probably in fear of Castiel leaving him in the middle.

“Don’t worry, Dean…” Castiel says, letting Dean feel the head of his cock, sliding between his cheeks, rightfully filling Dean with lube. “I got you… just… just keep calling my name. Please, Dean.”

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Dean makes a small sound but Castiel did not wait. He presses himself inside Dean, watches the muscle around Dean’s hole contract as he slowly slices him in half. The feel of Dean’s tight ring makes Castiel groans until he is sliding deeper and bottoming in.

Fuck.

“Oh, fuck! Cas!” Dean’s breathe catches.

Castiel doesn’t let him think. Closing his eyes, his thrust become wild. Dean cries his name when the jolting of their bodies becomes too intense and Castiel is wrapping his body around Dean’s back, a hand taking hold of Dean’s cock because that’s how the hunter wants it.

He fucks Dean for an hour and more—doesn’t even care if he heard Sam knocking on the door. He covers Dean’s mouth until Sam walks away, most likely getting the point after he hears Dean’s moans when Castiel hits his prostate again and again.

“Good boy.” Castiel whispers, pounding Dean, spooning the hunter with his cock deep in Dean. He drags the fucking to torturous slow, then catches pace again, breaking Dean’s moans and cries of pleasure. And all that while, Dean can only call him.

Castiel did not stop—not until the fifth hour where he has Dean on his lap resting. Keeping Dean so close seems to be the only way to make sure the curse passes without any glitch. That Dean is still with him. Sam did not bother him anymore. Castiel hopes he’s got Jack distracted not from all the noise Dean has made in the last five hours.

The hour strikes.

Dean lifts his chin from Castiel’s shoulder looking worn out and confused. Castiel quickly sits up straight but the hunter did not make any attempt to climb down his lap. He just stares hard at the angel, eyes large and disbelieving.

“Dean—?”

“Cas?” The hunter rubs his eyes. “Hey, babe…”

Castiel’s eyes fill with tears.

“Cas? Cas, what’s wrong?” concern fills Dean’s face. It was over.

The angel shakes his head and wipes his eyes. He’s just glad. “How are you, Dean?”

“You’re asking me that now? Why are you crying?” Dean gets on his elbow and pulls Castiel’s head to his chest, cradling him lovingly. “Cas, babe, talk to me.”

Castiel sniffs. “I… I made a terrible mistake.”

“Huh?”

“I… I fell under a curse. Curse of jealousy, Dean.”

Dean’s face relaxes as he wipes the tears from his angel’s cheeks resting on his naked lap. “Are you kidding? I feel jealous when it comes to you all the time—if you call that curse then lemme tell you again—I’d rather have you, cursed or not!”

Castiel takes a moment to take that in, and then slides his arms on Dean’s waist.

“Me too, Dean… I love you so much…”

“Me too, babe I—no wait— fuck! I just remembered that fucking nightmare!”

“What—” Castiel stares up but Dean just grabs him closer and snuggles on his neck. “I thought I lost you! You weren’t there in that dream!”

“Dean?”

“It was so dark and I couldn’t find you… but I knew you were there, I could hear you calling my name… you made me want to call you…”

 “Dean…” Castiel’s eyes water, settling his hand across the hunter’s body, “I’m sorry.” Castiel cries and Dean holds him close. Confused and a little afraid, Dean pulls from him looking scandalized at the tears streaming down the angelic face.

“Cas—d-don’t cry! What happened?”

Castiel controls his emotions and explains about the candle, the curse and the Shaman who is about to die by tomorrow. Dean looks aghast after the story, his hands clutching tight on Castiel’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Dean—" Castiel looks devastated. He keeps pulling Dean closer, keeps putting his head against his boyfriend’s chest afraid of Dean’s answer.

Dean pats his head gently.

“Don’t be an idiot. So, you ravished me. Ain’t that our deal?” Dean tells him. He cups Castiel’s face so they look deep in each other. “Well, fuck. I get fucked by my boyfriend and I loved every second of it.”

“Dean…”

“Cause if not, and this body rots waiting for you? I think I’d really go mad.”

Dean pulls the angel in a hot searing kiss with their tongues meeting. Castiel moans in the kiss and let Dean lead, gently putting arms around him and pulling him down so the hunter is on top of him.

Dean pulls back as he perches on the angel’s chest, his eyes twinkling.

“Can I top?” he asks, tone of excitement unbidden.

Castiel blinks. “But aren’t you tired? We just—”

A finger pressing on his lips stops him from talking. Dean’s face is red and he’s looking around Cas body with hunger.

“Cas, with you babe on the meal, I’d never required sleep ever again.”

***

“I hope you understand your dead the next time I see you.”

Castiel rumbles on the phone that evening. Dean is tucked tightly on his right arm, cuddled beside him so closely while he sleeps peacefully. The only time that day when Castiel can relax with the curse finally lifted. He was staring on Dean’s face quietly, remembering all the expressions when his phone rings and an unregistered number of flashes. The angel knew at once who it was.

“What can I say? It is sweet revenge—”

“You’re dead.”

“Come now, Castiel—”

“I have. Many times, inside Dean.”

There’s silence on the other line.

“I shall try to remember this then, your weakness is quite spot on.”

“If you mean Dean is my weakness, then yes.” Castiel looks away, teeth grinding, “but he’s not weak. Dean is stronger than I will ever be, but if you hurt him again—”

The phone gets snatched from his hand. Castiel turns to see Dean sitting up with a dark look on his face.

“Listen up, asshole. Call Cas again and I’m gonna be after you for the rest of your life. If you’re the maniac intent on death—fuck you—I will get you. And this is not even what you did to me. Show yourself here and I’ll show you the meaning of evil spirit.”

He doesn’t wait for the answer. Dean hangs up and threw the phone away.

“Stop talking to the guy!” Dean scowls downcast at the angel who’s staring at him quietly.

“Are you okay now?”

Dean rolls his eyes. He pulls next to Cas and drops his head on the angel’s shoulder.

“Are you?” he asks, wrapping strong arms around Castiel’s torso and heaving a deep sigh. Castiel copies him and buries his nose on the hunter’s hair feeling mildly content now that Dean is beside him and awake.

“I’m fine now. You’re in love with me again.” He whispers before cuddling Dean with both arms now clawing around him. Dean chuckles, tilting his head up so he and Cas can look at each other.

“Told you the only times I won’t love you is when I’m dead or—”

Castiel embraces Dean closely, their cheeks pressing warmly together.

“It’s okay. I just want you to love me now.”

Dean falls silent for a while before he crawls up on top of Castiel and begins kissing him gently. The angel lets him, a contented sigh slipping from his lips.

“I’m not just in love with you, Cas. I’m also a sucker for you, babe, also very much crushing on you now and horny.” Dean whispers when he gets around Castiel’s ears and begins licking inside. Castiel sighs. “If this aint my kind of love, I don’t know what else to call the urge to tie you up and just make you mine forever. Okay? So, cheer up.”

He pulls back, arms stretching from where he keeps both his hands on Castiel’s nape.

“Stop crying. I don’t want to see you crying just for fucking me. In fact—let’s keep the fuck and forget that asshole. Bleh… just imagining you thought that I—”

“It wasn’t the nicest thought I ever had.”

“Well, he’s not touching this hole any time soon.”

“I’ll soon be out of words to describe how dead he is when I see him.”

Dean finally nods and they cuddle for a few moments. Until Castiel flushes when Dean grinds his ass straight on his soft cock with a sly grin on his face. The man is just so happy to tease him after learning of Castiel’s tendency to get jealous. Dean watches intently, his tongue licking the topside of his lips.

He grinds harder, smirking. “So… did you just let me top?”

“I did but it’s a one time offer.” Castiel smiles holding Dean’s waist.

“Change your mind, I’ll never ask a hall pass ever again.”

“Dean, I am not that possessive.” Castiel narrows his eyes.

Dean smiles at him meaningfully. He smiles back and they snuggle closely again.

Castiel understands that this was not even a condition but an offer. He wonders before why humans are prone to jealousy. He understands now. It roots from loving. This is also where other evil stems from. Where all the curses gather around.

In time. He thinks. He’ll make up for that mistake—of being too human—maybe when he faces his own time but right now, Dean Winchester is here who says he’s still gonna take him, cursed or not.

[mittensmorgul]

14.18 and 14.19 both will require additional viewings to fully understand the gravity of everything revealed, and context I think we’re only fully going to get in s15. Even now, after having seen 14.20, I have more questions than answers, I think. A big part of the reason for this is how much of the story focuses on how POV affects perception, and how easy it can be to manipulate actions based on that, combined with the effect of the weight of one’s own emotions on both perception and vulnerability to manipulation.

The story is screwing with everyone-- the characters AND us-- on a very meta level here.

Going through 14.18, from Cas’s grief and self-blame over not having told Sam, Dean, and Mary what he suspected about Jack being dangerous, to Dean’s transfer of blame to him because of the emotional weight conversation with Sam, because it calls back to Dean’s ENTIRE relationship with Jack, how his first reaction was “DIE” and that only gradually shifted into grudging acceptance through his grief and despair over losing Cas, into actual acceptance after Cas returned, into sympathy after Jack’s first mistake that led to the death of an innocent, into full familial acceptance by the time Dean says yes to Michael. In s14, Dean FINALLY feels a more parental sort of bonding with Jack, and as soon as he does, Jack sickens and dies. It’s almost like Dean has been manipulated into being prepared to make this ultimate sacrifice all along.

Their whole family is cursed. He’s poison, etc. etc.

This same perspective shift happens for Jack, being “guided” into believing that HE is somehow “poisoned” as well, that because of his actions the Winchesters will no longer trust him, but his vision of Lucifer convinces him that because of this, he can no longer trust them. Jack is so desperate to redeem himself in the eyes of the Winchesters that he’s convinced himself that what he’s doing is good.

How many layers of manipulation are going on here? The narrative spirals are turning so fast we’ve practically reached F5 tornado status here.

Dumah, in 14.19, finally has what she’s wanted since Jack was born. Apparently having locked Naomi away for having “failed” to defend Heaven from the incursion of the Empty Entity was nothing more than a pretense to use Jack for her own power play. Dumah truly believes she’s doing the right thing, because in times past, this perfectly lines up with what Heaven always did. Her version of a Heaven without mercy harks back to the mindset of angels during the Apocalypse era, of Michael and his mission to destroy worlds.

Jack TRULY BELIEVES that “purifying the world” and “making angels” out of human souls would please the Winchesters. The fact that he still willingly got in the Ma’lak box is the biggest demonstration of just how easily manipulated he is.

The way Dean’s been broken down to be prepared to believe that they have no other choice but to kill Jack, to sacrifice himself in the process, applies to everyone. It’s always been a manipulation, in the biggest way possible.

So that said, on to my questions:

1. Is Jack’s vision of Lucifer actually Chuck manipulating him, because heck that would be a nice turn from Lucifer pretending to be God to manipulate Sam back in s11. In the end, does it even really matter what the source of Jack’s visions are?

2. Did Jack actually cause Mary’s death, or did this force manipulate him into the power burst that killed her? Does that even really matter? Because it’s not about the act, but the perception of it. Because the perception of it is all that mattered to Jack, in the end. He rejected Mary’s perception of him as “not well.” He’s sadly following Donatello’s advice, with the “What Would The Winchesters Do.” But Jack’s own perception of what they would do is fundamentally flawed without his soul. Donatello replaced his missing empathy with the consideration of possibly the most morally kind man ever to live, a man who based all his choices and actions on how they might affect others. Kindness was Mr. Rogers’ mantra. Jack lacks the maturity to understand this, and instead has based his own actions on the results of his actions, and whether or not the Winchesters would approve, which is a distinctly different thing, and Jack lacks the mechanism to understand this. This is what makes him so terrifyingly dangerous now.

3. Everything that’s happened in s14 has brought TFW to this point where Chuck thought they would feel backed into this corner, where in the past they would be ready to accept Chuck’s terms for the conclusion of the story, the self-sacrifice, the terrible fate, as the absolute last resort solution to save the world. And at first it seems to work. At the beginning of 14.20, Dean seems ready to do the deed, because his perception isn’t just about Jack’s danger to the world, but also the fact that he feels at least indirectly responsible for what’s happened to Jack now.

Chuck’s first line when he finds Cas is, “Wow, you guys are screwed.” *smarmy smile* Cas calls him God, he objects, and is pleased when Cas calls him Chuck, because “Chuck” is a likable, personable dude, and God is a terrifying all powerful being. Perception, and manipulation.

DEAN: You know what I'm gonna say. SAM: Let me guess. This is where you tell me you're gonna pull the trigger. DEAN: Yeah, it is. We don't have a choice, Sam. SAM: Of course, we do. Don't we always? I mean, isn't that the point of everything we've ever done, that we always have a choice? DEAN: He killed our mom. SAM: I get it. I was mad, too. Or you know what? Hell, I'm still mad. And a part of me wants Jack dead -- it really does. But, Dean, we haven't even tried to save him. DEAN: S-- Okay. You heard him, right? He actually blamed Mom for what happened. SAM: He doesn't have a soul. DEAN: And whose fault is that? SAM: Mine. I'm the one who brought him back, and I brought him back because he's family. DEAN: Okay. SAM: And then he came back, and he burned his soul off to save us -- you and me. And now what? You... Now you -- you want my permission? You want me to say I'm cool with losing him and losing you all at once? 'Cause I can't do that. I won't say that, 'cause I... No. I've already lost too much.

It’s interesting that Jack’s visit with his grandmother is what begins to shift his perceptions of himself into understanding. She goes from demanding answers about “What did you do,” into “What are you?”

So I talked above how Dean and Jack’s stories are entwined, but this is where Cas and Jack’s stories are entwined-- through Jack’s desire to do good, to do the right thing and yet always somehow making things worse despite their best intentions. Mostly because they tried to do the right thing by their own POV and perception, without understanding how they were manipulated into it. Like Cas in s6 manipulated by Crowley, by Dean’s promise to Sam to go live a normal life away from hunting, feeling the burden to fix everything on his own and unable to see any other way because of the depth of lies being uncovered would lead to the disappointment that was what he truly feared all along.

Which is why at the final moment, what finally gives Dean pause in his conviction that Jack needs to die, is Jack’s understanding and acceptance, his willingness to face what he’d done and truly repent:

JACK: You're not gonna lock me up again, are you? DEAN: No. (Dean raises the gun, aims at Jack and exhales deeply. Jack kneels down and bows his head. Dean, looking puzzled, lowers the gun and walks closer towards Jack. When he’s right in front of Jack, he aims the gun directly at his head. At this moment Sam comes speeding into the cemetery, car tires screeching. He gets out of the car and starts running towards Dean and Jack) SAM: Dean? Dean! JACK:(to Dean) I understand. SAM: Dean, don't! Dean? Dean! JACK: I know what I've done. [...] JACK: And you were right all along. I am a monster.

And in the end, the fact that Jack understands is what makes Dean realize that there is still another way.

Because in this part of the story, this is where Sam’s parallel isn’t aligned to Jack’s, but to Chuck. Sam picks up the Equalizer gun and shoots both Chuck and himself with it.

Writers lie.

And this lie is Chuck’s downfall. Because he was never on their side.

All that talk of stopping an apocalyptic thing by killing Jack? And then he starts an apocalypse with a snap of his fingers? Yeah. But he’s shown his hand now, and this changes everything.

And can y’all even conceptualize how O_O it is to loop from that scene in the graveyard to Mary tucking in baby Sam in in the pilot episode? Because I am now suffering. Chuck did this. He did all of this.

[ladylilithprime]

for the lil kiss prompt thing, #37 with wincestiel? if you’re cool with that?

37. It’s-the-end-of-the-world kiss

I folded this into a semi-sequel to Amethystium, a five-part mini-series written for Sastiel Love Week a couple months back, bringing Dean into an established Sassy dynamic for happy Wincestiel fluff. Hope that’s okay!

THE NICE THING about their Retirement-capital-R was the ability to just relax everything. Relaxing their bodies came easily enough, though it was easier for Sam and Dean than for Castiel given they’d had a head start. Relaxing their minds was a little more challenging, but there were plenty of things to divert their attention around the cabin and the roads to elsewhere and back. At first, once Castiel had joined them, Dean had tried spending even more time out on the roads to give Sam and his mate time to themselves, but that had only served to make all three of them more anxious.

Spending time together, all three of them, led to the gradual relaxing of boundaries that had seemed so very Important before and now just seemed silly. No one was around to care if Dean was more affectionate and touchy-feely than he usually acted, and Sam had always been happy to hug his brother and his mate whenever they wanted. Castiel was the least familiar with casual affectionate touch, but he was also the one with the fewest bad habits, and once he had been assured and reassured that his touch was welcome, not just with his mate but with Dean as well, then he could frequently be found cuddling up to one or both of the brothers at any given time.

Given that two of the three were an official pairbond and that people had been assuming Sam and Dean had more than just brotherly love between them for years, other physical boundaries slowly fell by the wayside. Where once Dean had quickly backed out of the room whenever he accidentally walked in on Sam and Castiel engaged in more carnal cuddling, now if he happened upon them he either settled in to wait or, as became more frequent, was invited to join in. That became Sam and Cas occasionally starting something while Dean was sitting with them and quickly pulling him into the middle. The day that Castiel boldly sat down on Dean’s lap and kissed him while Sam watched with a fond smile was the day Dean stopped pretending he wasn’t just as much a part of Sam and Castiel’s relationship as the two of them. The day Dean joined the pair of them on the couch and kissed first Castiel and then Sam full on the lips before settling back to watch whatever movie they’d picked this time earned him two beaming smiles and a lot of fun after the movie was over.

Sometimes all three of them travelled the roads, exploring the places the brothers had known in their youth and showing Castiel the joy their lives had held, inviting him into it. Sometimes it was just Sam and Dean who went, retracting old haunts and rewriting memories together where they had been apart. Sometimes Castiel would go with Dean alone, or with Sam alone, and show them wonders that existed before their time, shedding the boundaries of their human forms and making love within the heart of a star or playing tag across the wheel of a galaxy. It could have gone on forever like that, an eternity of blissful communion between the three of them celebrating their mutual love for each other in as many ways as they could imagine. It was Heaven.

And then, one day, the trio had an angelic visitor.

"Dean and Sam Winchester, Heaven has ne--” The unknown seraph was abruptly cut off when a flying pillow struck her full in the face. Given that the usual response from either of the two former hunters would have been to fire a gun or throw a blade in response to an uninvited intruder, a pillow was getting off lightly. The seraph, however, was not as familiar with the Winchesters as some other angels, and so reacted simply with a puzzled, "What?"

"Fuck off, feathers, it's Thursday!” Dean said cheerfully from where he had been mapping the planes of Castiel’s chest with his tongue. When the seraph made no move to depart, he added pointedly, “You know what happens on Thursday? Me and Sammy lay Cas here out on the bed and worship him until he's boneless."

"...It is Monday," the discomfited seraph said awkwardly.

"No it isn't,” Sam said from his place next to Castiel’s waist where he had been nibbling at the jut of hipbone before they were interrupted. “If it were Monday, it would be Dean's turn to be worshipped."

"Sam's day is Saturday," Castiel piped up “helpfully”. The seraph shifted uncomfortably.

"....It is Tuesday?" she suggested, only to be met with three glacial stares and a chorus of, "THERE IS NO TUESDAY."

“We’re retired!” Dean continued, glowering at the seraph. “Joshua said we were done! Raphael said we were done! Cas got kicked to the curb by that feathered douche for doing what the rest of you should have been doing helping to stop the freaking Apocalypse from happening early and now you want to drag us away from him for some--”

“Please,” the seraph broke in desperately, her voice catching. Dean shut up, startled, and both Sam and Castiel slowly sat up to look at her. “Please,” she said again. “Most of us agree that you have all three done enough and should be left to your retirement, but the situation is dire. Joshua would not have sent me if our need was not great.”

“Joshua sent you?” Castiel said, tilting his head to one side as he studied the seraph before them.

“Why?” Sam asked, frowning slightly. “Why now? Why us?”

“I don’t know,” the seraph answered, a hint of frustration entering her voice. “I don’t know what Joshua thinks you three can do that we are not already doing.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked seriously, folding his arms. The seraph had Sam and Castiel’s attention now, so chances of ignoring this were slim to none. “And who are you anyway?”

“Hannah,” the seraph answered, causing Castiel to go still. “To put it most simply, Heaven is collapsing. When Gabriel was killed by Lucifer, the pillars of Heaven linked to his Grace started to collapse as well. No one noticed at first because Michael and Raphael were... busy. When Michael and Lucifer became trapped in the Cage, Raphael was left to rule us alone. Instead, he tried to reopen the Cage.”

Sam flinched hard at that, causing Castiel and Dean to pull in closer to him in quiet support. “I’m guessing it didn’t work out the way he hoped?” Dean asked for them. Hannah shook her head.

“While his efforts to open the Cage did have an effect,” she said grimly, “the result was that the Cage collapsed inwards with two of the three remaining Archangels inside. Now there is only Raphael to shoulder the weight of Heaven, and he is failing. Naomi wanted to seek out Metatron and the angel tablet in hopes that one or the other would possess the key to our salvation, but Joshua insisted on sending me to you.”

“Cas?” Dean turned to look at Castiel, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I don’t know either, Dean,” Castiel said apologetically, visibly shaking himself out of his thoughts. “I was only a soldier, and my history of doubting my orders from Heaven was both extensive and well-known. If I was ever told about the Archangels being the literal Pillars of Heaven, I don’t remember it.”

“I don’t think it was something well-known, even by the Archangels,” Sam offered. “Otherwise, don’t you think Michael and Raphael would have known Gabriel was alive until....” he trailed off, unable to bring himself to voice the thought, until he died to save us from Lucifer.

“But that still doesn’t answer the question of what we can do that all the other angels can’t,” Dean pointed out. “I mean, yeah, we’re awesome, but we’re still just human. Or mostly human,” he added with an apologetic squeeze to Castiel’s shoulder.”

“You two are the best of humanity, our Father’s most cherished creation,” Hannah answered him, drawing their attention again. “Dean is the Righteous Man, with a will greater than the Archangel Michael. Sam was meant to be a reflection of Lucifer, and yet his soul outshines the Grace of angels. Castiel may have been only a soldier, but he had more heart than any other angel; Michael and Raphael and Naomi may have believed that to be a failing, but he was brought back from death while other angels were not, so perhaps....”

“Perhaps he was just what God wanted angels to remember you were supposed to be?” Sam suggested, finding Castiel’s hand with his and gripping it tightly.

“Perhaps,” Hannah agreed, and smiled faintly. “Regardless, only Joshua can tell you what you want to know. I have told you all that I can.”

“Give us a sec,” Dean said with relative politeness, tugging gently on Sam and Castiel. The three huddled up together, creating the illusion of privacy. “So, what do you think? Cas, is this Hannah chick on the level?”

“I didn’t know Hannah personally, though I knew of her,” Castiel said. “She has a reputation for being loyal and honest, and she served with distinction when called upon, though she was was not one of the ones sent against me during the Apocalypse.”

“Okay, good angel,” Dean agreed. “Sam?”

“This is way outside of anything we’ve ever read lore-wise,” Sam said with a slight shrug. “Gabriel didn’t say anything about it, and he seemed pretty convinced that his brothers thought he was dead. Still, it’s Joshua asking, and the last time he wanted to talk to us....”

“I hope this will not result in my desire to consume another liquor store,” Castiel said dryly, causing Dean and Sam to snicker faintly. “But as you say, it is Joshua.”

“Once more unto the breech, dear friends?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t look the least bit surprised when Sam grabbed him and kissed him, just pulled Castiel close to kiss him next, then watched fondly as Castiel kissed Sam in return. “Should we put on pants first?”

“I doubt anyone’s going to care much up here,” Sam said with a shake of his head, though he was still smiling. Castiel narrowed his eyes and reached up to stroke back Sam’s hair, his fingers brushing against the feathers clipped into the soft brown locks. The next moment, all three of them were clothed, making Dean snort and Sam chuckle. “Show-off angel.”

“Bite me,” Castiel deadpanned. “Shall we go save the world now?”

“If we must,” Dean heaved a mock-sigh and got up off the bed. Sam and Castiel followed suit, and the three turned towards Hannah. “Ready when you are, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said sincerely, looking at each of them in turn. She opened the door to the cabin’s bedroom, the doorway glowing before filling with the familiar view of the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. Dean straightened his spine and led the way through, followed by Sam and Castiel.

They had work to do.

[yesalleykat]

A “Dream” Ending

I had a dream about the ending of Supernatural the other night and I cannot get it out of my head.

It turns out that “Chuck” as he is now is not the real Chuck that we met previously. Instead he is the third sibling to the real Chuck and Amara who has stolen Chuck’s form and imprisoned Chuck’s true essence in a primordial jar (think in terms of what Ursula did to her victims in the Little Mermaid). Basically, this third sibling is the complete loser of the family and he is jealous of what Chuck created and wants to destroy it all, one piece at a time. So, he has taken over and disguised himself as Chuck, has created all this chaos. Amara has known this but has no idea what’s been going on because the fake Chuck’s attention has been completely focused on the Winchesters so there has been no colossal event that would have gotten Amara’s attention to tell her that her other brother is up to no good or that Chuck is imprisoned.

So Cas has the Mark of Cain (which is connected to Amara) and that gets her attention and she goes to see him and they basically clue her in on what’s been going on and she puts it all together and goes in search of what really happened to Chuck. She returns with the jar with the pathetic looking disembodied deity floating around inside of it. But there us a new problem now: In order to stop the fake chuck, they must completely destroy him (vaporize to nothing) which she and Jack can do together but that will leave the world without anyone in control and no balance. The real Chuck cannot do anything in his present state and must take on a new form. He needs a vessel—but not just that—he needs a being to become. Basically, he will absorb completely the soul of and become entirely whatever form he inhabits (because the thing in the jar is only made of primordial power and nothing else). Over time he has had several forms—the last being the Chuck they knew who when human was a creative fiction writer with a kind heart and dorky sense of humor. This time, because the deity is starting from scratch (as opposed to merely jumping forms), and so much wrong has been done in his absence, the new being must be exactly what the world needs from a deity.

So, led by Amara; Dean, Jack, and Castiel all sit around and brainstorm exactly what qualities the new deity needs to have. They must be brave, incredibly smart but also very creative. A peacemaker, a hero, brave, self-sacrificing, loving, compassionate, and forgiving to a fault. This world needs a healer, not a ruler, they decide. And then when the silence lags, Amara looks at Dean and asks, “Who does that sound like to you?” And her eyes flick toward Sam who is just sitting there completely clueless. And Dean basically loses his shit completely. Bangs the table, paces, yells, accuses Amara of declaring war on his family, blah blah blah. Dean says it will never happen. No one else is saying anything. Castiel is sitting, staring at Sam like it’s the first time he’s ever seen him. Jack is sitting very still, processing what he must do as Billie’s plan clicks into place. (Billie, as death, always knew this would be Sam’s ending). Sam is just sitting quietly, staring down at his hands folded on the table. He looks up

               “Dean- “

               Dean’s eyes flash desperately. “No, Sam! Don’t even say it! We are not doing this! Not this! We’ll find someone else! There’s another way, there always is!” His eyes go to Cas in desperate hope of receiving support but the angel just shakes his head.

               “Dean, there is no one else.” He reaches over and covers Sam’s hands with his own “Can you think of a better person than Sam in the world? Can you think of anyone we would be in better hands with?”

               Jack raises his eyes. “This is what Billie meant. I’m to end Chuck and another will replace him.”

               Dean jabs a finger in his direction. “Yeah! You!”

               Jack shakes his head, his eyes sad. “I can’t be God. I have to be…me.”

               Dean is shaking, on the verge of losing control and attacking Amara for bringing this to light. Sam stands up slowly, focused entirely on Dean.

               “Okay, Dean. We don’t have to decide anything right now. We have some time. I’ll do some research, maybe there is someone else. I mean, there has got to be right? I-I can’t possibly be the best this world has.”

               Amara opens her mouth but Castiel gestures for her to be silent.

Hearing Sam’s words, Dean softens, attempts to clarify. “Sammy, I’m not saying you’re not—hell as far as I’m concerned-“

               “It’s okay, Dean.” Sam interrupts, approaching Dean and giving him a quick hug that doesn’t allow Dean time to cling. “I’m tired and we have a lot of-research to do starting tomorrow. I’m going to bed.” He gives Amara a very pointed glance as he leaves the room.

 True to his word, the next day, Sam dives into research to find someone to host Chuck. The day after that Eileen returns for Sam and Dean can’t help but notice there is a new intensity to their relationship.

Time passes, and there is no further mention of Amara’s plan. One day, Sam announces that he and Eileen are getting married. Dean is suspicious but keeps getting blown off by everybody every time he tries to voice it. Sam and Eileen get married and soon after, she announces that she is pregnant.

A few nights later, Sam sits down with Dean in the kitchen and tells him that he has decided to go through with Amara’s plan. He will host the new deity.

               “Sam, I won’t let you do this!” Dean insists. “Even If I have to lock you up in the panic room, so help me, I’m not letting this happen! Don’t you understand, Sammy? It’s not like you’re just being possessed. You won’t exist anymore—anywhere!”

                               Sam grabs hold of Dean’s arm. “That’s not true! Weren’t you listening? Everything I am, all that I am, will be transferred to Chuck-or-or whoever it’s going to be then. I’ll literally exist everywhere!”

               Dean tosses off Sam’s hand, rises and violently throws the beer bottle against the wall where it smashes into tiny shards and leaves a slick trail dripping down the wall. “I won’t have my brother anymore!”

               Sam stands too. “That is why Eileen and I decided that the baby was so important.”

               Dean turns to face him, eyes flashing with anger and shining with tears. “Screw you!”

He starts to leave but Sam’s voice stops him. “This is the most important thing I’m ever going to do and I can’t do it without you, Dean. Please don’t abandon me now.”

It’s Sam’s last day. Jack is positioned to kill Chuck. Amara comes to them with a syringe of amber colored liquid.

               “I have to give him two shots.” She explains. “This one will put him into an irreversible coma. The second one will stop his heart. Once I give him the first shot, he will have twelve hours before he falls under.” She gives Dean a pointed look. “Make it count.”

The boys go for a drive. They find a field- the same one they’ve hung out in countless times over their lives. It’s the field where Sam had his first beer. They sit on the hood of Baby, drink a beer and talk. They say things they’ve never said before, they tell each other everything. Dean listens more intently then ever and commits every part of his brother to permanent memory. Just after sunset, Dean feels drained and lays back against Baby’s windshield. Sam lays back and to Dean’s surprise, rests his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean leans down and kisses Sam’s forehead. They are both crying.

               “Best big brother ever.” Sam whispers. And then they are silent for a long time until Sam says, “It’s time to get back.”

They make it back to the bunker just as Sam is starting to feel woozy. He lasts long enough to say an adequate goodbye to everyone before falling into a coma. Amara shows up the jar containing the disembodied deity and a syringe filled with purple fluid this time. They sit with Sam for a time, waiting for word that Jack has killed Chuck.

               “How exactly is this going to work?” Dean asks.

               “Once I stop his heart, I will release the deity from the jar. As soon as Sam’s soul is freed from the connection with his body, the deity will take it, along with everything else.” She pauses, pursing her lips as if dreading the next statement. “Sam’s body will completely disappear.”      

Dean’s eyes flash. “What do you mean ‘completely disappear?”

Amara sighs. “He’ll be gone, Dean. Completely gone in every way. Like he never existed except through the life of the deity.”

               “And our baby.” Eileen adds softly.

Dean’s mouth tightens as he stares down at Sam’s still form. Sitting by his side, he takes hold of his brother’s hand.

               Castiel comes rushing in with Jack. “It’s done!”

               There is a slight tremor as a world-wide earthquake starts. The beginning of the world falling in on itself.

               “Hurry!” Jack urges, eyes glowing, hands balled into tight fists at his sides. “I can’t hold it together for much longer!”

               Amara gives Sam the injection as Cas opens the jar containing the deity. Dean, still holding Sam’s hand, gasps and sobs as he feels the life leave his brother. The deity responds immediately to the change, flying into Sam’s slack mouth. Cas grabs Dean and pulls him away just as Sam’s whole body begins glowing. The brightness intensifies until no one can look directly at it anymore. When it stops and they look back, Sam has disappeared.

It’s too much for Dean and he collapses, sobbing helplessly against Cas’ shoulder.

               “Hello, brother.”

Amara’s voice makes everyone look up. There is Sam-but not Sam, standing by the door. He is wearing the radiantly bright white suit and a genuinely serene smile. Dean sniffles and wipes his eyes.

               “Sammy?” He croaks hoarsely, his voice carried only by a final dying ember of hope.

The deity looks at Dean with such compassion that another sob is torn from Dean’s throat.

               “I’m sorry, Dean.” It says softly. “But I along with the whole of heaven and earth thank you for what you have done. Your brother was the best of men and that will make me the best God this world could ask for now.” He steps forward and places a hand Dean’s wet cheek. “A lot of the credit for that goes to you, my friend.” Dean shakes his head helplessly, unable to look away from eyes that are Sam’s and yet, not Sam’s. “You raised him to be who he was. You protected his heart at the cost of your own.” The deity drops his hand and takes a step back. “My first act is something I know that your Sam wanted. I am undoing the rule that souls which have touched hell can never enter heaven.”

A gasp from the angel holding him gets Deans attention. He didn’t even realize that he was still standing in Cas’ arms.

               “Thank you!” Cas whispers, holding Dean a little tighter.

               The deity smiles, Sam’s smile. Seeing it, Dean feels his heart lift slightly even though he doesn’t understand why.

               “It’s because he’s safe Dean.” The Deity explains. “And I have just proven to you that he still exists and that I am paying attention to who he was.” He gives Dean a serious look. “What you are feeling is hope. And even as you miss your brother, you will still feel it, and in time it will grow until it overshadows everything else.”

Dean looks unconvinced and stiffens until Cas drops his arms and lets him step away. The Deity smiles again. “Castiel, you have done so well. I truly could not have asked for a better guardian for this family.” Cas lowers his head as the Deity steps forward and places a fond hand on Cas’ shoulder. “And so I want you to stay and continue to love and protect them as only you can.”

Cas smiles and nods curtly. “It would be my honor.”

The Deity turns his attention to Jack. “You will come with me. You have a lot to learn and much responsibility will be yours.”

The wire holding Dean’s rage in check begins to fray. “You’re taking him too? What the hell? My brother wasn’t enough? They’ll be nothing left when you get done with us!”

               Cas places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just for a little while, Dean. Jack has to be trained, taught to use his powers and understand his purpose.”

               Dean’s eyes flash. “His purpose? Just being our kid isn’t enough?”

               “I’ll always be your kid, Dean.” Jack steps forward and hugs Dean fiercely. It’s the first real hug they’ve shared since Jack returned. “I love you.”

               Through another sob and more tears Dean whispers. “I love you too, Jack. Always will.”

                 After they’ve gone, Dean spends days drinking himself into oblivion and then months at a time away from the bunker fighting monsters, both internal and external. Cas stays behind to watch over Eileen and the baby growing inside of her.

Sam’s baby, though Dean doesn’t want to hear anything about it. He comes home one time from a particularly nasty hunt, unshaven, having not showered for days, still covered with the blood and gore from Shifters he took apart. Cas and Eileen have decided to make Sam’s old room the nursery and are in the process of building the changing station when Dean walks in. He stands in the doorway watching them until Cas looks up at him hopefully.

               “We could use some help if you want to join us.” He offers.

Dean’s eyes travel to Eileen’s swollen belly and for a second his eyes soften before the hardness returns to them. “I need a shower.” He says and wanders off.

 Jack returns a few days after the baby, a girl named Samantha Mary, is born. Dean is still choosing to stay away from the bunker most of the time and stays as drunk as possible when he is there. He will not go anywhere near the baby and deliberately leaves whatever room he is in if someone comes in with her.

               “It’s breaking my heart.” Eileen confides to Cas one night as they are putting Samantha down for the night. “She’s almost a month old and she looks just like Sam. Dean would fall so in love with her if he would just let himself get near her.” She sighs looking down at her daughter. “She needs her uncle.”

Cas agrees. “And he needs her just as much.” He follows Eileen as she places Samantha in the bassinet. The little girl has recently started learning the make real sounds and gurgles and coos. Dean would absolutely fall in love with her. He taps Eileen’s shoulder to get her attention. “We can’t force it.” He tells her. “Just give it time.”

A few nights later, Dean is coming back from a hunt. He enters the hallway on the way to his room where he can drink himself into sweet oblivion when he hears the baby begin crying. He pauses outside the door and listens, the sound tugging painfully at his heart. She’s in pain, or frightened, or uncomfortable in some way.

She needs help.

Without thinking, Dean lays one hand flat against the door while the other one reaches for the knob. He turns it without realizing he’s doing it and the door is open. The cry is painful and helpless sounding. He moves forward and finds himself looking down into the bassinet, his hands balled at his sides. Her feet are pulled up toward her abdomen, it’s something he knows babies do when their stomach hurts.

She’s in pain.

His heart constricts as he reaches down and gently lifts her, cradling her against his chest and making soothing noises. Glancing around he spies the bottle warmer with the built-in bottle cooler. A marvel of modern convenience! Removing a bottle from the back he places it into the warmer to take the chill off.

She is still crying. Now what? Her diaper feels heavy. He brings her to the changing station and makes quick work of fixing that problem. She even stops crying for a minute and looks at him with large curious eyes.

Sam’s eyes.

Dean’s breath catches as he lifts her again, placing her head against his shoulder and closing his eyes. He was so young, but he can still remember holding Sam like this. Once the bottle is finished, and he sits in the rocking chair, cradling her against the crook of his arm as she drinks. He can’t help smiling when she sighs in relief. Without thinking he presses his lips against the top of her head and that warm, protective feeling he still recognizes comes to life within him.

He hears Sam’s voice in his head, remembers Sam’s words, That is why Eileen and I decided that the baby was so important.

He looks down into his niece’s face and sees his brother looking back at him. Tears flood his eyes until he bows his head to kiss hers again.

               “It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean whispers. “I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

In the hallway Cas smiles and heads back to the living room to continue the game of Halo he and Jack were playing.

[samwinlover-blog]

Black Eyed Girl

Pairing: Sam x Reader  Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, mention of Crowley  Warnings: angst, swearing, demon!reader, talk of past smut, alcohol Word count: 1806 Summary: The reader has been turned into a demon by Crowley and decides to pay her old friends, the Winchesters, a visit.  Tag list: @wade-wilson-the-amazing-malfoy @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove @evyiione @spectaculicious @justablackshadow @spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @spnfanficpond​ @amanda-teaches  @myplaceofthingsilove  @spectaculicious@bambinovak @bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010 @mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat @spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage @evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood @megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester @notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137 A/N: The title is a play on words with the song Brown Eyed Girl :) Also part 2 is coming soon.

You’d been living life as a demon for weeks now, and absolutely loving it. Gone was the quiet, passive person you’d been before. Erased was the small, quivering girl you’d been in death. Now you were confident, uncaring and unfeeling. You breezed through life- bouncing from bar to bar, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and sleeping with the first person who caught your eye. You loved being a demon, loved the confidence and strength it gave you. You’d never go back to the person you were before, you’d never be weak again. When you died, you’d been at your lowest point. Sam had tried to save you, but failed. And of course you couldn’t save yourself, because you had been weak. In life you’d been a hunter, traveling throughout the country with the Winchesters. You were new to the life, only had been hunting for a few years. Sam and Dean had taught you everything you knew, from how to shoot a gun to how to kill a vampire. And you were content in your life, content in your relationship with Sam. Content with being the weak link of the group, always the one needing help, always the one needing saving. But not anymore, now that you were a demon you were the exact opposite of who you’d been. Filled with snarky comments and devilish charm, you loved your life now. 

It had been three weeks since your death, two since Crowley had squeezed your soul through hell and turned you to a demon. It had been painful at first, you’d screamed and kicked and fought. But when it was over, you found this stilling clarity. A calm washed over you and you found yourself turning into the person you were today. Confident, witty and cruel, you now adored your life as a demon. You found that feelings were a burden, which often led to making the wrong decisions. Life was much better off without them, pesky emotions manipulated and ruined everything. 

Driving in your jeep, you stared out the window to the rolling fields of wheat and barley ahead. Kansas really was a beautiful place, rich with agriculture and sleazy bars. You found yourself staying longer than your usual “just passing through”, and not minding. Your days mostly consisted of drinking, thrill seeking and fucking. You relished the adrenaline rush that resulted from being scared to death, craved the high it produced. And now that you were already dead, you had nothing to lose. 

So you were just driving along, thinking about Kansas and all of the things you wanted to do. When, with a jolt, you realized who else was in Kansas. The Winchesters. That pesky Men of Letters bunker was in Lebanon, only about a half hour drive. So you decided to pay them a visit, not because you cared about how they’d been dealing with your death, you only wanted to see their reactions to who you were now. You couldn’t wait to flick your eyes black and watch as horror washed over the two of them. Maybe it was cruel, but you really didn’t care. 

The entire way over you were ecstatic, practically humming from excitement. When you finally pulled up to the bunker, feeling the crunch of gravel beneath your tires, you let out an eager laugh. You sped up their driveway, scraping the Impala in your haste. Oh, Dean’s gonna love that one, you thought, giddy with anticipation. 

Getting out of your car, you rearranged your top and headed for the door. Tight and promiscuous, the outfit you were sporting was something you’d never have worn before. Your jeans were nearly shredded from the numerous rips decorating your thighs and calves. Your top was black and low cut, clinging closely to your torso. Even your hair was different from before. It was wild, unkept and untamed. You used to straighten your perpetually curly locks, however, these days, you found yourself just letting it loose. It was long and almost reached your hips, framing the sides of your face and wildly bouncing up and down whenever you walked. 

With a quick knock, you opened the door and walked right in. You knew where every devils trap was kept, and even had drawn a few of them yourself. So you weren’t worried in that regard. The bunker was very different from the last time you had been there, it was wildly unkept as if nobody had cleaned in weeks. The long wooden tables decorating the living room were strewn with old cartons of Chinese food and an insane amount of empty beer bottles. You heard the shuffling of papers and a groan as the fridge door opened. Peering your head around the corner, you spotted Dean. He too was different from the last time you saw him. He looked worn, older even. His face was unshaved and his stubble had grown into a full fledged beard. Under his eyes sat large, dark bags, as if he hadn’t slept for weeks. You delighted at how much your death had caused him to deteriorate. You let out a pointed cough and watched as he whirled around to face you. 

His hand immediately went to his gun as he yelled, “Sam!” into the large expanse of the bunker. 

You saw Sam stumble towards him from a room down the hall, cursing his brother’s loud voice- no doubt hungover. 

Sam was in even worse shape then Dean was. His eyes were pink and watery, as if he’d been crying. His face was unshaved and stubble peppered his cheeks. It looked as if his hair hadn’t been cut or even washed in the weeks you’d been gone, it was much longer than you remembered. His flannel was creased and disarrayed on his torso, he didn’t bother to fix it. Wow, you thought, pathetic. 

“Hi boys,” you drawled, turning their attention to you. Sam stopped dead in his tracks, stumbling backwards. 

Oh this is going to be fun, you thought happily to yourself. You knew it was cruel, but again, you didn’t care and absolutely couldn’t wait to flick your eyes dark. To see their horror. To watch as they found out that you’d turned into the thing they hated most, the one they hunted and killed. 

With a rush of heat, you found Dean on you with a hand to your shoulder, pressing you against the wall. 

“What the hell are you?!”, he barked in your face. 

“I’m (Y/N), new and improved”, you winked, which only angered him further. 

“I swear to god if you don’t stop looking like her right now you’ll be sorry.”, his breath smelled of alcohol, as if it had been his only life line these past few weeks. 

When you only smirked at him he yelled again, “If you think this is some sick joke you’re wrong, dead wrong” 

“No joke. I told you, new and improved”, you chirped back, gesturing up and down your torso. To your clothes and untamed hair, to all the small differences that made you the opposite of the person you’d been before. 

You noticed how Sam hung back, gripping the table for support. As if at the sight of you, his knees threatened to give out. He had a hand to his mouth and his eyes were gleaming with tears, you just gave him a devilish grin in return. 

Dean pulled his gun out and pressed it to your chest, “We watched her die. So whatever you are, it ain’t her.” 

You clicked your tongue in response, “Oh Dean, so quick with the gun. Sorry, bullets don’t hurt me now.” 

But he didn’t remove it from where it rested, pressing against your chest. And his voice became low and predatory as he responded, “I asked you a question: what are you?” 

You rolled your eyes, and then flicked them black, “What the hell do you think I am?” 

You relished both his and Sam’s reactions. Sam stumbled back, knocking into the table behind him with such force, beer bottles clattered to the ground. Dean’s predatory glare faltered for a moment and a look of terror flashed on his face. But as soon as it was there it was gone, and that steely mask returned. 

You expected some half-assed one liner from Dean. But Sam spoke up instead, voice breaking, “H-How?!” 

You turned to him, completely disregarding the gun at your chest and put it simply, “Crowley stopped my soul from getting to heaven.” 

When neither of them responded, you took the opportunity to speak again, choosing your words carefully, “And I gotta say, I’m glad he did. I mean seriously? Heaven, angels, bright white lights? It’s a bit of a cliché, don’t you think, Sammy” 

He closed his eyes as you said his name, it was the first time he’d heard you speak it in weeks. The first time he’d heard your voice at all, actually. 

You were too preoccupied watching Sam, savoring the undeniable hurt on his face, to notice Dean pull out his flask. Within seconds he was on you, dousing holy water onto your face, chest and neck. You gasped and sputtered through gritted teeth as the liquid burned its way through you. Clutching the wall for support, you doubled over in pain. 

Again your eyes shifted to black as you shoved Dean with a grunt. But he evaded you and stepped back. You lunged after him but found yourself unable to go any further. 

“What the hell?!”, you yelled. 

“Look up, sweetheart” Dean quipped back. 

No, no no no, you thought. A god damn devils trap was spray painted onto the ceiling above. There was no way you just forgot about such an obvious one, so you assumed it was a new edition. 

“Let me go!”, you yelled through gritted teeth, already regretting paying them this visit. 

“No,” Sam spoke up, “You’re gonna stay there until you’re human again and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

He had regained his confidence, shaken off the previous disbelief and was ready, jaw clenched, to face you. 

But you didn’t want to go back to being human. To being so fragile and breakable, the thought repulsed you. 

“Try to turn me back and I’ll break your bones”, you threatened, low and menacing. But his jaw was set and the determined look on his face didn’t falter. Your eyes darted to Dean, but he was just as intent as his brother. So you leaned back on your feet, pressing your back against the wall, and waited. You wouldn’t let them make you human again. You’d fight, scrappy and dirty, to ensure you stayed a demon. You were cursing yourself for coming in the first place. Your delight in toying with others had been your downfall, and now you were going to lose everything.