#I need more fics cas or sam just start beating the hell into him

[regret-with-a-u]

Hating on the net is not enough. I need to beat the shit out of John Winchester.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Celestial Stars & Candy Apple Eyes (Castiel) (Dean)

Request: CanI request a Dean x Reader x Castiel (no Destiel) fic? Reader has been hunting with Sam and Dean for a long time (like since the events of early S1) and met Cas when Dean, Bobby and her went to the Barn (S4 E1). She had a Crush on Dean since the beginning and they kissed right before he died (end of S3) but they never talked about that again after he came back. And when she met Cas, she instantly felt a strong connection and also developed a Crush on him. So now she is conflicted, thinking both dont like her like that (Since Cas is an Angel and Dean doesn't talk about the kiss). The Fic could be right around S6, so Dean was with Lisa for a year which made Reader even more convinced that Dean didnt like her. And Cas hadn't contacted her in a while. But Dean, Sam and Reader started hunting again and called Cas a few times. During their interactions, the two boys realize how they feel and get jealous of the other for being close to Reader (or something like calling her petnames). Idk if all of that makes sense but thats the general Idea I had^^" @storytellers-randomshortstorys

A/N: you'd requested this back in April 2024, and I couldn't for the life of me think of what to do with it. SOrry for the lateness!

Summary: You're torn between man & angel, and cannot handle the jealousy anymore.

WC: 995

Warnings: jealousy, reader loves both dean & Castiel, pining

Read on ao3!

--

The Impala’s engine hummed a low, steady rhythm as the three of you drove through the dark backroads of Ohio. You were wedged in the backseat, your head resting against the window. Dean was behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat flipping through a case file.

The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. You felt it keenly, especially every time you glanced at Dean. Things had been weird since he came back from Hell. Not outright bad, just... unspoken. That kiss before his deal ran out was a moment you couldn’t forget. But he never brought it up after he returned, especially not with Lisa in the picture for a whole year.

And Cas—well, Cas was another layer of confusion entirely. He wasn’t here often, but when he was, you couldn’t help but feel the pull toward him. The two of you had this... connection. Like you understood each other without needing to say much. He wasn’t human, but he made you feel seen in ways no one else did.

“You good back there?” Dean’s voice cut through your thoughts, rough but edged with concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, offering a small smile.

Sam looked back at you over his shoulder. “We should call Cas for this. If that witch really managed to pull off a binding spell like this, we’ll need more firepower.”

Dean grunted in reluctant agreement. “Fine, but he better not be off doing Heaven’s dirty work again.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed quiet. Dean always acted like he didn’t trust Cas, but you knew better. He was just too stubborn to admit he cared about the angel.

Later, at the motel, you all regrouped in the cramped room. Dean called Cas, who appeared with the usual flutter of wings.

“Hello,” Cas said, his gravelly voice sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His eyes found yours immediately, lingering a beat longer than you expected. “Y/N.”

“Cas,” you replied, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

Dean huffed. “Yeah, yeah, great reunion. You got anything for us, Feathers?”

Cas ignored the jab and got right to work explaining the spell you’d be facing. But as the conversation went on, you noticed something odd. Dean kept glaring at Cas every time the angel spoke directly to you, and Cas—well, he wasn’t much for subtlety. Every time Dean called you sweetheart or kiddo, Cas’s jaw tightened just slightly.

Sam noticed too, of course. He wasn’t oblivious. He shot you a look that said, You seeing this?

You were trying not to.

By the time you were setting up for the hunt that night, the tension was palpable. Dean was unusually snippy, barking orders with more edge than usual. Cas stayed unnervingly silent, only breaking it to answer your questions.

At one point, you felt Dean’s hand on your shoulder as he guided you to a safer position near the abandoned barn. His fingers lingered longer than they should have, and when you looked up at him, his green eyes softened. “Be careful, okay?” he murmured.

Your heart twisted. “I always am.”

From a few feet away, Cas’s eyes bore into the scene. He stepped closer as Dean walked away, his presence like a calm yet electric storm.

“Dean seems... protective of you,” Cas remarked, his voice low.

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “It’s just Dean being Dean.”

Cas tilted his head, studying you in that way that always made you feel like he was looking straight through to your soul. “I don’t believe that’s all it is. He cares for you. Greatly.”

You froze. “What?”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense but not unkind. “And you care for him. But you also...” His voice faltered, rare for him. “You also care for me.”

Your throat felt dry. “Cas, I—”

Before you could finish, a loud crash from the barn interrupted, followed by Dean shouting for backup. You cursed under your breath and ran toward the noise, Cas right on your heels.

The fight with the witch was chaotic, but you managed to come out mostly unscathed. By the time it was over, the adrenaline had your heart racing.

Dean was pacing, muttering curses under his breath. When he saw you, he rushed over, his hands gripping your arms as he scanned for injuries. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Dean, I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because you scared the hell out of me back there.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Cas’s voice cut in. “She handled herself well. She always does.”

Dean turned to glare at Cas, his grip on you tightening slightly. “Yeah, I know that, angel. But she’s not bulletproof, is she?”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Cas shot back, stepping closer.

You stepped between them, exasperated. “Guys, seriously? This is not the time.”

They both looked at you, their frustration melting into something softer. Something vulnerable.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N. I—I care about you, okay? More than I should, probably. And I know I’ve been a dick about it, but—”

Cas interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “Dean, stop. She doesn’t need your guilt. She needs to know the truth.”

Dean glared at him, but Cas ignored it, turning his full attention to you. “Y/N, I’ve felt this connection with you since the moment we met. I don’t fully understand it, but I know it’s real. And I know you feel it too.”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“Y/N,” Dean said softly, stepping closer. “I don’t want to screw this up. I care about you. A lot.”

You stared at them, your heart pounding as you tried to process their words.

“I... I need time,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “I care about both of you, but I can’t just... choose like this.”

They both nodded, reluctantly stepping back. The hunt was over, but the battle in your heart had just begun.

[100and1fics]

(002/101)

Part 1 of 2. Dean/Cas, set post-4x11. Inspired by the premise of an older Destiel fic (which I would link to but it's been taken off AO3; I feel like the references are fairly obvious, but who knows). CW consent issues.

The second time he wakes from now-in-technicolor nightmares of Hell to find Cas sitting on his bed, it’s 3 in the afternoon.

After Angels vs. Demons: Kaiju Battle, he and Sam had been slinging back jobs like it was a sweaty summer night, and it’d been working. Keeping him too tired to even dream. But then Sam had started bugging him again, asking if he wanted to talk about it. No. Telling him he should talk about it, that he’d feel better if—still no. The dreams came back, no matter how long he stayed awake. His head hit the pillow and every every was there in the dark: underneath fingernails, behind eyeballs, between each of his ribs, shuddering flesh beneath hands, skin trembling against his teeth. Even when the sun was shining down from on high.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas.” He sits up, rubs sleep from his eyes. Cas doesn’t move a muscle.

Since the mess a few weeks ago, he’d wondered if Cas was gonna come back at all. 1-800-HEAVEN, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. But he’s glad to see him. Kind of wary. That’s just how it goes with Cas, the confusingly sort-of-attractive tax accountant who could kill him with a wave of his fingers. Still, he hadn’t seemed to enjoy being on CSI: Angel Murder Squad. “I haven’t seen Anna, if that’s what you want to know.”

“We’re searching for her, but other priorities are more important now.”

“Great. You found another seal?”

“It’s being handled,” Cas says, and then abruptly changes the subject: “You haven’t been sleeping well.”

Does the Pope shit in the woods. “Since when does Heaven care about my sleep schedule?”

“Sleep is important for humans,” Cas continues, “and we need you to be battle ready.”

His jaw clicks. “I am ready. You got a battle for me right now? No? Then a little afternoon nap won’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s not—” Cas starts, then stops. He shifts, moving closer, until he’s right next to Dean on the bed. Anybody else, the way Cas doesn’t stop staring at him, Dean would think it was a come on. Except the whole warrior for God thing. “Heaven told me… they want…” He’s never seen Cas grapple for words this much. Angels are decisive, righteous, ruthless; Cas is hesitating. Finally, he ends with, “We want you to be less troubled by your dreams.”

Nonchalance, a shrug and “What dreams?” But Cas doesn’t roll his eyes like Sam, or sigh with impatience like Bobby. Cas just stares right through him with those cold blues. “I’m fine, okay?”

“You aren’t fine. You spent years in the depths of Hell, and any soul would be—”

“Yeah, I’m not talking about that.” Dean’s off the bed and crouched down next to his bag. It’s half full with his crap: the jeans with the tibia-length tear down the side, his two gutting knives, King’s The Colorado Kid. He really should start packing. Sam might be back soon.

Cas’s baritone rumbles from behind. “It wasn’t your fault.” That makes Dean grab one of his shirts and throw it in with too much force. Doesn't help. “My squadron was tasking with reaching you, and if we had truly know what what you were facing, with Alastair—”

“Guess hindsight’s a bitch, huh?”

Some boxers, a towel. Probably the motel’s. Whatever. A flask of holy water, almost empty. Dad’s journal; his usual comfort read. He’d been flipping through before his nap, checking again if there was anything more on the Apocalypse, wishing there was something, knowing there wasn’t.

Cas’s hand was firm, insistent, on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Anna had said angels were frozen, obedient statues. No chocolate cake, no forgiveness, no sex. They could feel like pigs could fly or fish could tap dance. But Cas sounds so goddamn sincere, his heart is beating double-time.

“What, you want me to say thanks for trying?” Now he’s the one invading Cas’s personal space. Cas doesn’t blink. “Make you feel better about failing?”

“We didn’t fail. I rescued you. But I…” That hesitation again. Then Cas moves even closer, until they’re practically breathing each other’s air. Dean can see the beginnings of crows feet around his eyes. Angels still got wrinkles, who would’ve guessed. “I can’t change what happened. But I can give you what you want.”

And then Cas kisses him.

Hands down the weirdest kiss of Dean’s life, and that’s counting—Cas doesn’t know to move his lips, or what to do with his tongue, and when Dean draws back, Cas’s eyes are open.

“What the hell,” Dean says.

Cas says: “We should have sex.”

Cas grabs at him as Dean’s heads try to catch up to what’s happening. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. Lots of people he’d want to fuck but never get to. Anna Nicole Smith. Belladonna. Mr. Petrov from his second school of junior year (Silverpark Wolves, let’s howl!), somehow both a history nerd and the hottest teacher he ever had. But imagining was just imagining. Half of it with Cas was the adrenaline, looking over a cliff’s edge and the warm pull in the pit of his stomach, that voice saying, jump, baby.

“But angels can’t have sex,” he says as they land together on the bed. It squeals in protest.

“Circumstances have changed,” like that’s supposed to make sense, but Cas has stopped trying to lead. They’re awkwardly straddling, legs tangled up, with Cas hovering above him and a little lost look on his face. He keeps glancing down at Dean’s lips but doesn’t move to kiss him again. It’s like seeing human eyes in one of those museum marble statues; humanity where it shouldn’t be.

He’ll only live twice. He might not know angels, but he does know this.

Dean puts his hand on Cas’s cheek. Cas’s eyes widen, but after a moment he softens into Dean’s touch. “You sure?” Dean asks, waits for Cas’s nod, then shifts up to kiss him again, gentle.

If Cas was breaking the rules here, it wasn’t like Dean was going to smooch and tell. It'd been sliced apple sweet, getting back in the saddle with Anna, but he didn't think Cas wanted to jump straight to the Kentucky Derby. They'd go slow. Easy. He takes charge, and if there wasn't something nostalgic about a long breathy make-out session. Cas learns quick and Dean is 16 again, rewound half a century, taking Emily Smith’s first kiss at Owl Creek Point and the warm black blood under his fingernails disappearing as he runs his hands over soft tan skin, wet lip-gloss mouth giggling against his, and Cas is kissing him so earnestly, lips open now but still a little rough. Off comes Cas’s old man raincoat, his suit jacket, and then Cas wants to take off his shirts, until they’re both skin against skin. Dean trails his hand down Cas’s chest, and Cas shudders beneath him. No flushed cheeks, no heavy breathing, but no mistaking the curve ball he’s starting to pitch. “Dean,” Cas whispers. “I…” Dean grinds down and Cas groans low. They’re hidden in the back row of a movie theater, heavy petting through explosions and car chases, and there’s no such thing as werewolves or bone saws or the Apocalypse or Hell. When Cas moves his hips, mimicking Dean almost exactly, Dean gasps softly into his neck, and then hands grab his ass and twist and he's back against the bed. Cas fumbles with Dean’s belt until Dean helps, shimmying out of his jeans as Cas undoes his own, and it’s then that something falls out of the pocket.

A gold wedding band.

Cas picks it up and without looking drops it off the side of the bed.

Shit. Dean had forgotten. Hadn’t even thought about the guy at all. Was he a newly wed? Did he have kids? Must’ve been one awkward conversation: Pardon me, ma’am, but I need to tell you your husband’s been touched by an angel.

“Cas,” he says, but Cas doesn’t hear him. “Hey, Cas!”

“Yes?”

“We gotta stop.”

Cas tilts his head. “Why?”

Dean gestures at Cas’s body. “The guy you’re—possessing.”

“Jimmy isn’t aware of anything I’ve done,” Cas replies. “So he won’t be aware of this.”

“Uh, but I will. You will. What, you think he'd be down for an angelic three-way?"

“Why does it matter?”

Through the haze, alarms start going off. “Because I’m not gonna make a guy catch when he doesn’t even know he’s playing the game! Look, I don’t like stopping just when we were getting to the good part, but I won't." Not—again.

Cas is frowning. “But you said yes. You want this.”

“And I’m saying no now.” Dean goes to move up, push Cas off, and hits a godblessed brick wall. His second try’s not any better, and makes Cas grab at his wrists. Pin them to the bed.

“Do we need to fight?”

“Oh, if you don’t get off me, we’re not just gonna fight, I’m gonna kick your ass!” But his anger’s more a whisper than a shout. He just hasn’t gotten his breath back yet.

“You can’t hurt me, Dean.” There’s no threat, no malice, no glee in Cas’s voice; just the facts.

He struggles again but it doesn’t do shit against Cas’s inhuman weight, and his dick’s picked the perfect time to betray him, still flying half-mast. Frustration sets his eyes stinging. “You better believe I can try.”

“I believe you would.”

Dean glares. For seconds that stretch decades he thinks Cas isn’t gonna let him go, or try to kiss him again, or—then the pressure’s gone, and Cas is halfway across the room.

“I… I’ve misunderstood,” Cas says. He’s dressed again, all buttoned up in his shirt and suit and that laughable coat. As if nothing had even happened.

“You think?” Dean rubs at his wrists.

“I’ve upset you. I thought…”

“You thought wrong!” He swallows and his throat’s full of razors. Crappy dry air motels. “When you find another seal, you let me and Sam know, but if you ever touch me again, you’ll regret it.”

Cas says nothing. Doesn’t even look at him. Then he’s gone in a whoosh of air, and Dean’s all alone.

[assbutt-writes]

The Aftermath

Pairing - Castiel/Dean Winchester Word Count - 1,003

A motel room brings back memories that send Dean to a bar where he runs into someone who reminds him a little too much of a certain angel.

Fic below break

It's been 3 years since Cas died. 3 years of sitting in the library alone, 3 years of being reminded of him by every fucking thing in the bunker, and 3 years of avoiding the dungeon like the plague.

I dream of that moment every night. Most of the time, it's the same, with him smiling, saying "I love you," the Empty opening up behind me, him shoving me aside, and then him getting enveloped in it, but some nights it's different. Those nights, I don't freeze up. I tell him that I love him too, and we kiss. I try to stop the Empty from taking him, but I'm powerless against it. He still gets covered in the black goo, he still gets taken away from me, and, those nights, I wake up shaking with tears streaming down my face, clutching my pillow in my hands so hard I'm surprised it hasn't ripped yet.

I still go on hunts, but it's no longer because I want to help people. It's because I need to punch something, anything, or I might go insane. I don't go on that many of them, not anymore, but today the dreams, no, nightmares, were bad, so I'm on my way to a haunted train track in San Antonio, Texas. Sam insisted on going with me, and, for the most part, the car ride is silent. Sam tries to start up a conversation, but everything he mentions reminds me of Cas. Hell, even just going on this hunt reminds me of him.

After about 13 and a half hours of nonstop driving, we finally get there. We find a motel and get a room, and the second I see the room, I freeze. It looks just like the room from Oklahoma City, where Cas said that he would watch over me. Fuck.

I quickly leave the room, chest heaving and tears filling my eyes. I get in Baby and just drive. I end up at a bar called Brooks Pub, and I immediately start drinking. I only stop when I feel an all-too-familiar hand on my shoulder. I look up hesitantly, and it's him. I flinch away from his touch, and he tilts his head to the side, giving me that look that's part confusion and part concern that he always used to give me. He's wearing a white sweater with a tan knit vest over it and jeans, with a pair of golden circle-framed glasses resting on his nose.

"Cas?" I breathe, barely above a whisper, "Is that you?"

Now he looks completely confused.

"Who's Cas?" he says in that voice that sounds like whiskey over gravel, looking even more confused.

I blink, wondering if it's just my imagination, but there's no way I could ever forget that face or that voice.

"Castiel, come on, man. This isn't funny," I say desperately.

"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. My name's Alex."

I freeze. "Alex?" I say hesitantly. He doesn't remember me. Why doesn't he remember me?

"Yeah. If you want, I could help you find your friend. Castiel, was it?" he continues, "That's a bit of an odd name."

"It's no use. He's gone," I say, and a soft look crosses his features. He steps around me and sits on the stool next to me, taking a sip of his Fallen Angel cocktail. I let out a broken laugh at the irony of the name.

"What happened?" he asks gently, and I think, why the hell not? I won't tell him the whole story, of course, but what harm could telling him a little do?

"Someone was trying to kill us, and he sacrificed himself for me. He killed her, but he died in the process. Before he did, though, he told me that I'm the most- the most caring man on Earth and that I changed him. He told me that he loved me. He told me that he loved me, and I didn't even get the chance to tell him that I love him too," I say, the last part barely a whisper.

Something seems to shift in his features, and he sucks in a sharp breath. "Dean?" he asks quietly, and my heart skips a beat.

"Cas? Is that you?" I ask hopefully, searching his face for some sign that he remembers.

"It's me, Dean," he says. "Did you mean that?"

"Mean what?" I say dumbly, still not able to get over the fact that Cas is here. He stands up, and I do the same, unsure of where this conversation is going.

"That you love me too," Cas says, expression unreadable.

"Of course I do," I say, and then, suddenly, we're kissing. I don't know who started it, and, honestly, I don't care. This is everything that I've been dreaming about for three years, with his hands grabbing at my hair, his chest against mine, and his stubble scratching against my cheek. It's enough for my knees to go weak, literally. He grabs me around my waist and pulls me into his lap, kissing me hungrily.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he groans into my mouth, and I'm about to respond when I hear a throat clearing behind us.

"Dean? What's going- Is that Cas?" Sam says incredulously.

"Hello, Sam," Cas says, not taking his focus off of me.

"Can you give us a minute, Sammy? We're kind of in the middle of something right now," I say, annoyed.

"Okay?" Sam says, clearly dumbfounded.

I can hear him walking away, and after he's gone, Cas pulls away. I try to follow him, not wanting the moment to end.

"Dean, we should probably go. Sam's probably extremely confused, and I don't think that this is a conversation that can wait," he says. "I'll make it up to you at home, though," he promises with an intense look in his eyes, and that's all I need to hear to follow him out of the door.

[write-nerdy-to-me]

~ destiel fic, hurt/comfort, 1k words, for @castielsdisciple​  

“Be still,” Dean murmurs to Cas when he flinches away again. He’s tried to minimize how much he pokes and digs, knowing what a bitch it is to be on the business end of pliers, but he can’t help that some of the shards are buried deep. He waits patiently as Cas takes a large swallow from the whiskey bottle he’s clutched like a lifeline, then Dean picks out yet another broken glass piece and drops it into the cup next to his hip.  

It couldn’t have just been a cut-and-dry D-list case, because life — this life especially — doesn't work like that. It was inevitable for shit to go sideways on them, and it’s laughable, fucking inane Dean ever dared to think otherwise. (“Good things do happen, Dean,” Cas said to him once. Dean’s still not convinced that's true.) 

Dean doesn’t know what it is about Cas, but the monster, like, fixated on him. The whole night, no matter how hard Dean fought to get the ugly bastard's attention, it kept going after Cas. Then monster grabbed and fucking bodily tossed him out the window and let out a roar that felt like it shook the whole house; Dean's only felt his heart leap into his throat like that a few times. He didn't get time to even process what happened because the monster, having taken out one opponent, turned and advanced on him. Dean had to finish the job alone, not knowing if Cas was even still alive. He ran to find Cas lying on a patch of wood chips, shattered glass surrounding him like a halo. Those few short moments felt like several lifetimes as he slid to his knees next to Cas, who was winded and aching and breathing. ("You alive?" Dean asked, and Cas huffed out a pained laugh and flipped him the bird. "Yeah — yeah, you're alive, you asshole.") 

Dean could swear that Cas has a deathwish or something because the reckless motherfucker refused to be checked out at the hospital. Dean insisted that he needed to go, as only so much could be done with the sparse supplies they had. They argued, and in the end, Cas’ stubborn glare won out. If he was gonna be like that, then Dean figured the sooner they get a move on and save Cas from his own bullheaded stupidity, the better. The last thing they need is Cas getting an infection. And the way he climbed into the Impala, slow, graceless, hiding his winces and grinding his teeth, only further proved that they should head to the hospital, but Dean held his tongue.

The ride back to the motel was, to say the least, unpleasant. In their room, it’s not much better. 

For the past hour now, Dean’s painstakingly removed a myriad of embedded glass and wood shards from Cas’ back, wiped away the blood, and applied ice to the welts that have already turned angry and dark. Cas hasn’t said a word since their fight— that disagreement back at the old farmhouse, but Dean's talked plenty for the both of them. He’s lost count of how many times he’s repeated this mantra: Be still, be still. How many times it’s followed by tiny plinks of glass and wood into a plastic cup. Dean would think Cas finds it patronizing — insulting, even — if it weren’t for the way the coiled tension in Cas’ shoulders starts to ease whenever he speaks. If it makes this process easier for him… well, then who’s Dean to deny him?

“Be still. I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Another glass piece. Plink.

The A/C unit in the corner kicks over with a wheeze. Cas says, “I don’t deserve this,” in a voice so hushed Dean would’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting right behind him. 

Dean’s hands stop, just for a moment. Plink, plink. “What are you talking about?”

Cas sighs. “I don’t deserve this. Your attention, your care, your lo—” He cuts himself off, arms coming around his middle and shoulders hunching away from Dean’s hands. A soft hiss escapes his lips as the motion tugs sharply at his wounds. He sounds like wishes he could take back the words the second they leave his mouth and hates himself for it. “Your kindness. I don’t deserve it.”

How could Cas think so little of himself? Believe himself so unworthy that he shouldn’t even receive the most basic care? But Dean gets it, maybe more than Cas realizes. “That’s bullshit,” Dean says mildly. Plink. 

“Dean...” Cas starts to shift further away from him, and that won’t do, because he needs to listen, needs to hear what Dean’s telling him, and he won’t if he’s already sinking into himself. 

“Don’t, I’m not finished,” Dean admonishes quietly. “I’m serious. Don’t move.” He touches Cas’ waist and— and he just stills with a shaky breath. If this were any other time, Dean would dwell on how Cas caves at the slightest touch initiated from him, how he always just lets him.

When it seems like Cas isn’t on the verge of bolting, Dean says, “I know there's something about this case that got to you bad — don’t think I didn’t notice, man.” Hunts aren't easy, and unexpected bodies turning up are never something a good hunter takes lightly, but Cas seemed to take each one like a devastating blow. Dean tried to press Cas about it, and he shook off Dean’s worry and pretended that everything was fine. Dean doesn't have to be a good hunter to know Cas was lying. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Cas turns his face away. “There’s nothing to talk about.” A beat. Then, “I think you’d be better off hunting with Sam again.”

The fuck? Taken aback, heat starts to crawl up Dean’s face. Part of him wants to be angry — hell, he kinda is, underneath the hurt — but he takes a breath and lets it out slowly, for once grateful Cas is facing the other way. “I like hunting with you. Besides, Sam's got his club going on, and anything with Eileen he likes to be involved.”

“Maybe you should have a different partner. One that doesn’t fuck up.”

“Everyone fucks up,” Dean says defensively. “Cas, if this is about what you did, you’re already forgiven for that—” 

But Cas isn’t listening. The dam's busted open. “I’m supposed to— I used to be an angel. My powers, I could... I could help you, I could help Sam, but now I can’t — I can’t even do that.” Cas covers his face with his hands, rakes them roughly up through his hair. “I’m — I’m useless.”

Dean’s heart clenches sharply. He knew that the fading powers and subsequent loss of them had been hard on Cas, but Dean didn’t know it was affecting him this badly. Then he feels like an asshole, because of course this was, for fuck's sake. “Cas…”

Cas turns around, winces as he moves too quickly. He touches Dean’s face with gentle, hesitant fingers. There are scrapes and cuts Dean hasn’t taken care of yet, too occupied with making sure Cas doesn’t get a damn infection. Cas’ eyes grow sad; his brow furrows. “I miss— With a touch, I could heal you. I wouldn’t need you to care for me this — this way.” 

“Cas, man, you gotta know that it’s never been about your powers. You’re not a-a tool, Cas. All I want— It’s just you. I told you, man. I’d rather have you. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

Cas is quiet for a minute. “Your faith... I've always admired it. How you put your trust in people. You're a good man, Dean."

"Yeah, well." Dean clears his throat. "Gotta make up for all the bad shit I've done, right?"

Cas hums, unconvinced. He grabs the damp rag that held the ice, shaking out the remaining pieces. He doesn’t seem to care where the ice landed. "Let me?" 

Dean almost says no, he's fine, but something in the way Cas looks at him... "Okay."

Cas wipes away the dried blood on Dean's face. Lately, he and Cas would be arguing, if they weren’t busy giving each other the cold-shoulder. It’s not the first time they’ve been at opposite ends or had disagreements — Dean refuses to say they bickered — not by a long shot. It’s just... been a while. Dean thought they were past petty fights. Now, though, they fall into a comfortable silence, for once not thick with tension from the unsaid. 

Cas’ thumb traces over the scar on Dean's chin, and he says, a hopeless look in his eye, "I love you. Did you know that?"

Dean just breathes and touches Cas' wrist. "Cas..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know."

Dean tugs the rag out of Cas' hand. His mind is taking a second to reboot. But he knows — he knows he needs to kiss Cas right now. "C’mere," he mumbles and cups Cas' face between his palms and presses their mouths together. When they separate to breathe, Dean says, “It’s always you, Cas. You know that.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I love you.” The smile Cas gives him is soft and crooked and still sad. Dean’s not stupid; he knows things with Cas are rocky at best, but it’s a start. “Now turn back around so I can get the rest of the junk out, asshole.”

[autisticandroids]

yknow those episodes where a character's whole personality gets split into 3-5 different distinct separate bodies? what bodies would cas have? I feel like it'd just be a mess tbh, imagine 5 different castiels all of them loving dean to a certain extent but showing it VASTLY differently. one cas would literally want to murder the others lmao

okay so i don’t actually think this trope would be an effective tool for analyzing cas? he’s not conflicted enough in himself. he’s too impulsive, too singleminded, too uninhibited. like, in the end, cas always ends up doing whatever he wants. there aren’t multiple discrete voices vying for control, really, or rather, if there are, one is always significantly stronger than the others. like in the end cas will always end up eating raw meat off the floor, you know? he’ll do what he wants. if i was going to do personality splitting i’d do it to someone intensely internally conflicted, like dean.

however, because i’m in an essay writing mood today, i’ll answer a question slightly to the left of the one you asked. cas may not be internally conflicted, but he is intensely changeable. these two things are related, actually; the same impulsivity and singlemindedness that mean he doesn’t have a ton of internal conflict at any given time mean that different ideas sound good to him at different times, because he isn’t really thinking about, say, what future-him will think of them. and he’s not really trying to maintain an image or identity. he’s just doing what feels right at the time, which is very different at different times and in different situations.

anyway, that in mind, i think a lot about ways to bring together many alternate versions of cas which sort of correspond to different times in the show.

i have a fic in my head about a bunch of cas-es pulled from alternate timelines by some kind of spell. so this would be set during the widower arc because the basic impulse here is to show dean a very bad time. just absolutely put him through hell. also, all the alternate timelines are different because different stuff happened, not because cas made different choices, because if we’re torturing dean it has to be like 5x04, the changes in cas can’t be cas’ fault. they have to be dean’s or just like, the universe’s (which makes them dean’s).

so dean is trying to bring cas back, and he finds some kind of spell that can bring someone “from another world.” and he tries it because hey. can’t hurt to try. anyway i’ve thought a long time about different versions of cas i would put in this and here is what i have. in order of when the timeline split off.

- a cas who never raised dean from hell. think 14x13 “lebanon.” this one i’m not too sure about, like, this could be fun, but i don’t know if it’s different enough from the next one. like this castiel would have lived through the averted apocalypse and subsequent general fuckery that happened as an angelic footsoldier, which would actually be pretty interesting now that i think about it, especially since all that stuff would have gone down soooooooo differently without cas specifically for your average angel footsoldier. like cas has PERSONALLY caused more upheaval in heaven in twelve years of spn than there seems to have been in millennia. so he would be the point of view of a normal footsoldier from a totally other world.

- a cas who died mid season four, and is pulled out of the empty in 2017 by this spell. i’m not sure when this cas died. my thoughts are (1) killed in on the head of a pin by alistair, (2) killed during his torture in the rapture, or (3) simply never resurrected after lucifer rising. (3) makes the most sense, but that cas has already thrown away everything for dean. i prefer the idea of a cas who loves dean, is already on the brink of disobedience for him, but has not yet taken the plunge. both on the head of a pin and the rapture are great places for this, and they both have strengths and weaknesses. if he died in the rapture, he was killed by heaven, which is fundamentally more fun, but he was also really very much over the edge already. if he died in on the head of a pin, he wasn’t killed by heaven, but he is perfectly teetering on the brink of falling for dean. regardless of when he died, the purpose of this cas is to be horrified at all the various and myriad ways he has destroyed and corrupted himself for dean in the other timelines.

- possibly endverse cas, who would have died in 2014, but like s4 cas, would have been pulled from the afterlife by the spell. i’m not so sure on this one. we as a society love endverse cas but i dunno what purpose he would serve. maybe endverse cas didn’t die in 2014, and instead was imprisoned by lucifer, because, you know. he’s the only brother lucifer has left. so he is very excited to see dean alive and well, since his dean is dead, and, not being an angel, cas can’t bring him back. the purpose of this cas would be to horrify dean that cas loves him and needs him so much, and to disgust the other cas-es with his neediness.

- a cas who was in some way on better terms with dean during s6. maybe dean and cas ride off into the sunset together after swan song instead of dean going to live with lisa, maybe dean prayed to cas while he was with lisa because he missed him, who knows. either way, cas has dean’s help with the angel revolution in season six from the start, and never goes to crowley. the plan cas and dean come up with to beat raphael includes breaking into the cage and stealing the grace of michael and lucifer, freeing sam and adam in the process. incidentally, it also involves cas possessing dean, because if cas is gonna eat archangel grace to become more powerful, he’s going to need a stronger vessel. so cas and dean have a whole like. midam situation happening. they’re a double archangel together, and godstiel never happened so none of the other terrible apocalypses that stemmed from that happened, and everything is pretty cool where they’re from, and also they’re obviously uhhhhhh SOME kind of together. the purpose of this cas is to upset dean because this cas shows how much better everything could have been and how much better his and cas’ relationship could have been if dean had simply been more considerate of cas in s6, and also freak dean out with how uh. close. this dean and cas are.

- a godstiel who managed to swallow purgatory without swallowing the leviathans and remained god. he’s probably soooomewhat less scary and murdery than canonverse godstiel because no leviathans, so you know, not as many angel purges or massacres on earth. and he probably went and fixed sam’s wall within about three days because cas is prideful but he does NOT like it when dean is mad at him. so they did kiss and make up, and so this cas would have had dean to act as his morality chain. but he’s still very scary and godstiel. and also he refers to dean as “The Beloved” you know. his purpose is to freak everyone out, because he’s scary, but also, for the past cas-es, because he is a terrifying abomination that they could never imagine becoming, for the future cas-es, because he is a reminder of their worst selves, and for dean, because he is a reminder of how dangerous cas is, but also because he uh. obviously has some feelings about his dean. unclear if they are consummated or not.

- a cas who naomi never rescued from purgatory, and who stayed there. hasn't spoken to another being in half a decade, has not recovered from his emotionally destroyed state in purgatory in s8. believes at first that the spell is his dean rescuing him, and is crushed when he realizes he was wrong. like endverse cas, his purpose is to show dean how much cas needs him and depends on him emotionally, and how he (dean) is capable of destroying cas, as well as his guilt for leaving him in purgatory and how lucky he is that his cas got out. this is especially noteworthy since the guilt for leaving cas in purgatory is part of the reason dean is trying to get cas back.

- a cas who stayed human after season nine, and has built himself a small human life over the next four years. he has a job and an apartment and friends outside the winchesters and yes, he still goes hunting after work sometimes, and he's still in contact with dean, but he is also independent in a way no other version of cas has ever been. he exists to freak out dean because dean has never seen cas independent of him. he is also fairly bitter at dean since dean did kind of stop spending time with him when he was no longer useful, and our dean feels guilty for that.

- a cas who showed up twenty minutes later in 10x03, finding sam dead and dean gone, and had to chase down demon dean, and has now spent three years following demon dean around as his tragically adoring stalker, because he hasn't found a way to resurrect sam yet and he doesn't want to put dean through the demon cure until he can save sam because he doesn't want dean to experience that guilt, but he also adores dean and wants to keep an eye on him and keep him safe and also keep him from doing anything too heinous, so he just covertly follows him around the country and watches from a distance as he commits various murders and fucks his way through every local bar scene. and occasionally cas finds dean something to kill, when the mark gets hungry, and drops it in his path. his purpose is to freak dean out with the lengths cas would go for him, and the depths cas would sink to.

anyway. lebanon cas and season four cas are horrified and perhaps disgusted (lebanon cas more than s4 cas) by ALL of the later cas-es, and how far they’re fallen, all of it for dean. godstiel and archangel cas being abominations, endverse cas and s9 cas being fallen, even purgatory cas and demon dean’s cas for their total dependence on dean.

purgatory cas and endverse cas are just happy to see a dean, even if it’s not their dean. demon dean’s cas, too, in a way. he’s happy to see a dean who is still human, who he can still have as a friend.

human cas is pissed to see that he was right, that dean would have stuck by him if he’d still had his powers, that this version of dean is doing spells to try and bring his cas, who is still an angel, back, whereas he and his dean only see each other once every couple months.

everyone is terrified and disgusted by godstiel, as i said before.

they’re mostly kind of thrown by archangel cas. a lot of them are jealous. godstiel is furious because how dare anyone, even an alternate version of himself, take dean as a vessel (even if dean likes it). godstiel isn’t really there, though, he resisted the summoning and just sort of popped his head through to see what was going on, and he goes back to his own reality pretty fast without murdering anyone.

also to be clear dean has not at this point examined or acknowledged any feelings he may have about his cas besides “friendship,” nor has he wondered what feelings his cas may have for him. given how many of the cas-es were clearly in some kind of relationship with their dean (endverse cas, archangel cas) or just openly in love with their dean (godstiel, purgatory cas, demon dean’s cas), dean is forced to reevaluate the nature of his and cas’ relationship.

[expectingtofly]

Claire Novak's (Surprisingly) Not-So-Lame Day

2k

this fic is written for @dean-has-great-taste as part of @starrynightdeancas' gift exchange. thanks sophie for organizing this, it was a lot of fun <33 and i hope you enjoy this, gen!!

*****

How did Claire find herself joining Dean, Cas, and Jack for an excursion to the mall?

Well.

Cas had texted her yesterday, with an extreme amount of emojis and emoticons that took some time to decipher, asking if she wanted to go shopping with him, Dean, and Jack. Apparently Jack needed new clothes and they needed a gift for Eileen’s birthday coming up, and maybe they could go bowling or something afterwards.

And normally she would’ve said no way because hanging out with old guys was lame and she didn’t like little kids, but she needed an excuse to get out of Jody and Donna’s weekend plans of cleaning out the garage. Plus, Kaia needed to study for a test—she actually enjoyed school, the weirdo—and had requested no distractions.

So that’s how she found herself sitting in the back of the Impala next to a carseat, listening to one of Dean’s old cassette tapes (which wasn’t too bad, but she’d never admit it).

“What’s that?” Jack asked, stretching against his carseat straps to jab at one of the pins Claire wore on her leather jacket.

“It’s the lesbian flag,” she told him. Cas looked back at them from the front seat, smiling.

“This one?” Jack pointed to the rainbow pin on her pocket.

“It’s the pride flag.”

Jack considered that for a moment before announcing, “I want one. And this one.” He pointed to the mothman pin on her lapel, then the big-eyed, green alien. “And this one... and this one, and this one.” (Alex said she had more pins than leather on her jacket, but sue her, she liked making her clothing her own).

Jack, it seemed, also liked… unique clothing. The kid was wearing rain boots even though the sun was out and overalls with embroidered flowers. He dressed weird, there was no way around it. But so did Cas, so there was probably no hope for him, poor kid.

“Okay,” she decided. “I know where to get you some.”

Jack beamed and swung his legs. “Don’t kick the seat,” Dean told him, and Jack pouted at him.

Claire was surprised Dean even let a carseat in his precious Impala. Pulling out her phone, she asked, “Can we listen to my music?”

Dean started to respond with a “Hell no,” but Cas spoke up first, “Of course.”

Dean spluttered as Claire connected to the bluetooth connector Sam had finally convinced Dean to install. The old man didn’t realize it was the 21st century, apparently.

“I wanna listen to Gaga!” Jack said, leaning over to look at her phone.

At first she thought that was some baby talk, then she realized Jack was into pop music. Ugh. But it would annoy Dean, so...

Leaning in conspiratorially with Jack, she let him scroll through her phone and choose which song to play. When “Born This Way” started filtering through the car, Dean groaned.

“Really?” he asked, sending her a glare in the rearview mirror. Mission accomplished.

Jack clapped along and Cas turned the music up louder. “Great choice, Jack,” he said.

Dean, for all his grumbling, didn’t turn down the music, and Claire caught him glancing at Cas, who tapped his fingers on his thigh to the beat. Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile and Claire rolled her eyes. Dude was so whipped.

When they parked at the mall, Cas grabbed Jack’s hand before he could sprint across the parking lot. “You have to look both ways,” he reminded him gently, and Jack nodded.

“Claire’s gonna buy me pins,” he said, jumping onto the curb.

“Yup.” Claire pat her jacket pocket. “Good ol’ credit card fraud.”

“Woah, now,” Dean started to protest.

“You and Sam are the ones who taught me!” Claire reminded him.

“We’ll pay for them,” Cas said, opening the door to the mall. Jack skipped inside, his rain boots squeaking on the tiled floor.

“We’re doing what now?” Dean asked Cas, taking his hand. Gross.

“Come on, Jack,” Claire said, catching up to the toddler. “Let’s go get you some style.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Meet up with you guys later.”

“Have fun!” Cas called.

“Don’t get kidnapped,” Dean added.

As they distanced themselves from the old geezers, Jack grabbed her hand, and Claire startled a little. “Do you like dinosaurs?” he asked.

Someone passing by gave them a smile, and Claire realized people probably thought Jack was her younger brother. She let him hold her hand anyway. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite? Mine is the bon-ta-sore-us.” He sounded out the word carefully.

“Don’t know. What’s the one with the spiky horns?”

“Ti-ce-a-tops?”

“Yeah, that sounds cool.”

“That’s my second favorite!” He started jumping from one colored tile to the next. “And the T-Rex. That’s Dee’s favorite. And Dad likes the steg-a-sore-us.” He peered up at her. “Did you know he got to see dinosaurs? Right in front of him!”

“You know what that means, right?” He shook his head. “He’s super old. He’s basically a dinosaur himself.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “He’s a dinosaur,” he repeated in a hushed whisper.

“Yup.” Spotting Hot Topical, she headed that way. “You should tell him that.”

Inside the store, Jack let go of her hand to grab a stuffed cat. “Claire! Like yours!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Yeah.” So, she still had the Grumpy Cat Cas had bought her. She wasn’t cruel enough to throw it away when the guy was trying so hard to make up for walking around in her dead dad’s body. Plus, the stuffed animal was kinda cute. Not that she was going to tell anyone that.

“Here ya go,” she told Jack, finding a box of pins at the register. She brought the box down to his level and Jack ran over to look inside.

“I want a Doc McStuffins pin,” he said, plunging his hand into the box.

“I don’t know if they have those.”

As they rooted through the box of pins, she heard familiar voices and looked up to see Dean and Cas walking inside.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

“I like this store,” Cas said and Dean rolled his eyes. Among the pleather and black, Cas’ dingy old trench coat—over a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt instead of a suit—and Dean’s ratty flannel and boots only looked more ridiculous. She took it back—even Jack dressed better than them.

“You guys don’t have to be in here,” she told them.

“What, we’re too old?” Dean asked defensively.

“Yeah, actually.”

Cas poked at a toy and it squeaked. God, could they be any more embarrassing?

“Dad!” Jack called, holding out a rainbow pin. “Look, they have soo many.” Cas joined Jack in going through the pins and Claire asked Dean, giving his outfit a meaningful look,

“Was the Army Surplus store too trendy for you?”

“Did they kick you out of Sephora for buying up all the eyeliner?“ Dean shot back.

Touché. In a truce, she held out a pin with the bisexual flag. She wasn’t really sure what Dean identified as, if he even gave it any thought, but guessed it was close enough. “For you.”

Dean rolled his eyes but took it. “I’m not weighing down my jacket with this crap, though.”

“No, ‘course not, that would mean having any sort of style.”

“Can I help you with anything?” asked an employee with two nose rings and jewelry up and down their ears— so cool. Claire saw the way their eyes flicked between them, probably thinking they made a weird group, and she took a step back, trying to silently communicate that yes, she was shopping with them, but no, she was not as lame as them.

“Just looking,” Dean told them.

“I like your drawings,” Jack said and the employee looked down at their arms which were littered with tattoos.

“Thanks.”

“My dad has a drawing. It’s Enochian.”

The employee—Wren, by the name tag—looked at Cas with new respect in their eyes. “Language of the angels. Sick.”

Cas looked pleased. “Thank you. It’s come in handy more than once.”

The employee went back to looking confused and, starting to walk away, told them to call if they needed anything.

“Do you want anything?” Cas asked Claire, and Claire looked through the box. She grabbed a pentagram pin and, seeming to copy her, Jack grabbed another one, clutching several pins already in his fists.

“You like bees, right?” Claire asked Cas, spotting a “Save the Bees” pin. She held it up for him.

Cas’ eyes brightened. “That’s a wonderful message.” He glanced back at Dean and frowned. “Dean, they’re not going to bite.”

Claire looked over to see Dean shying away from a few emo teens. “Look like it,” Dean muttered, joining them. Jack lifted up his hands, asking to be hoisted up. Dean set him on his hip and Jack showed him the pins he’d selected. He held a dinosaur pin to Dean’s collar.

“Do you want one, Dee?”

“He’s too lame,” Claire piped up. Not for the first time, she noticed the healed over piercing mark on Dean’s right ear and pointed to it. “Looks like he used to be cool, though.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Dean said dryly. His hand went to his earlobe. “Pierced it myself, in high school.”

“I think you’re still cool,” Cas told him, and Claire fake-gagged, making Jack giggle.

Cas took the pins to the cash register where Wren rang them up. Dean added the bisexual flag pin and Claire threw in a pair of spiky earrings, because, hey, they were paying.

“15.36,” Wren told them, dropping the pins into a bag.

“My dad’s a dinosaur,” Jack told them, trying to see over the edge of the counter. Wren raised an eyebrow, Cas looked surprised, and Claire stifled a laugh.

“Claire, help me,” Jack said, grabbing the bag from Cas as they exited the store. Moving to the side, Claire helped him attach the pins to his overalls. A smiley face, a pride flag, a grinning Stitch, a sunflower, a dinosaur, and the pentagram. The pins clacked as Jack tugged at his overalls, trying to look at them all. Overall, a chaotic look, but it kinda matched his vibe.

“Lookin’ good,” she told him, and Jack beamed.

“I’m like you!”

Alright, she wouldn’t take it that far, but, “Yeah, close enough.”

Cas attached the “Save the Bees” pins to his trench coat pocket and it ended up crooked. Rolling her eyes, Claire said, “Let me.”

She reattached the pin and stepping back to look it over, decided, “You could actually make that coat look cool if you added more stuff to it.”

Cas looked down at himself. “Thank you.”

“Nothing’s gonna save that sweatshirt, though.” Couldn’t let his ego get too big.

“Dean said he liked it,” Cas said, glancing back at Dean, who was shooting an evil eye at Claire. He quickly wiped it off his face and draped an arm over Cas’ shoulders.

“Yeah, it’s uh… Charming.” He guided Cas away from Claire. “Don’t listen to her, she still thinks sarcasm is a personality trait.”

“Screw you, old man,” she called. Jack skipped after them and she checked her phone to see Kaia had texted her: How’s everything going? They drive you crazy yet?

They’re so weird, she texted back. Then she added, They’re not too bad.

“Come on, Jack,” she said, hurrying to catch up with him, Dean, and Cas. “Let’s go get our ears pierced.”

“Yay!” Jack cheered. He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the mall.

“Woah, woah, you’re not doing that,” Dean protested like the wet blanket he was.

“You can get yours pierced too,” Claire told him, and he faltered,

“I don’t want, we’re not—“

“You know you want to.” She let Jack lead her away and Dean called after them,

“We're never bringing you shopping again!”

Grinning, she turned to shout over her shoulder, “You know you love me!”

[s11e17]

popping in to say i'm sorry to hear that and also your writing is so, so good. i get chills every time i read your work. got any excerpts or tidbits you'd like to share? anything you're especially proud of in past or current works?

wahh thank you so much anon! <3 <3

right now i'm kind of pleased over this little bit in the big bang fic - dean can't say "i love you" to cas, so instead, he asks him if he's ever been to the grand canyon.

Cas’s mouth tilts up sleepily, would be a smile if half of it wasn’t squashed against the pillow. He’d say it now, if he could, the thing that Cas deserves to hear, the thing Dean has never told anybody in his adult life.

Instead, he asks, “Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?”

also i started writing this like 15k pwp (the plot is basically that dean and cas keep having sex in dreams, aka put up your dukes but not as good) but i feel like it'll be ages before i actually finish it so here are the first two scenes (mostly under the cut bc its like 1600 words lmao):

The few times Castiel has been put under by a djinn, he hasn’t felt particularly disturbed by it. Dean flinches when djinn are mentioned. Sam is deeply distressed when the possibility of unreality is discussed. But Castiel is not so committed to this distinction as the Winchesters are.

Yes, undoubtedly, there are things that are real, and things that are, well, unreal. He likes the prefix un-. It implies a sense of reversal; undoing. Something is real, and then made fiction. Fiction, of the Latin fingo: to make. To invent. To create.

Things are, or they are not. If they are not, then they’re nothing — unless they’re something, in which case, they are. So on and so forth. This is to say, a djinn dream must be as real as Dean’s smile: both created and natural at once. Nature, creation, it is. I am that I am. We are.

This must surely be why Castiel is satisfied with being, when it comes to his love for Dean. Isn’t it enough to create? To speak, and to therefore move from nothing to something? From unformed feeling to articulated truth, Castiel has heaved himself down to Earth from out of the sun more times than he can remember. Dean is his lodestone, and Castiel dreams of him often. It is enough.

Sam’s the one to ask him, in the end. Castiel supposes that makes sense. Dean’s always aimed his comfort at Castiel’s shoulders and his stomach, offering back pats and warm meals, as if even his hands can’t meet Castiel’s gaze.

Sam invites Castiel out to the roof of the bunker to look at the sunset, while Dean is out buying supplies for his tune-ups from the 24 hour mechanic shop he likes to visit when the usual customers aren’t around. Castiel knows this because Dean once told him, once said that he liked to go when the guys were just “shootin’ the shit,” so to speak, liked to roll up with Baby and have them look her over and tell him he’s done a good job. Castiel knows he likes the camaraderie of it, likes having men touch his shoulders and slap his ass the way men do, the way Castiel does not.

So Castiel and Sam are on the roof. “It’s beautiful,” Castiel says.

“It’s real,” Sam says, as if in reply.

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. “It’s that, too.”

Sam sighs. His cheek twitches, and he looks at Castiel. His body is so big— that’s what Castiel thinks, whenever he looks at Sam Winchester. So much goodness, in that broad and wiry body— how could anyone beat him down? Castiel’s heart clenches with love for his brother, because that’s what Sam is to him. “You know— you know this is real, right?” Sam asks. “You know it’s not— you’re not— you’re not in the djinn— in the dream anymore.”

“I know.” Perhaps it’s some angelic power, which makes Castiel so certain of his place. “I know where I am.”

“Good. That’s good.” Sam sits back in his chair, then. “Do you— do you wanna talk about what you saw?”

It’s kind of Sam to phrase it that way. Dean would’ve asked him directly. He would’ve said, What did you see? And Castiel would’ve had to tell him.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask. In any case, Castiel says, “I’m happy to tell you if you’re curious.”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Damn,” he says, “you’re well-adjusted.”

Castiel smiles, too. “I don’t have much to hide from you, Sam,” he says. And he thinks of Dean, who surely must know— who must feel the weight of Castiel’s desire every day. Dean sees how careful Castiel is. He sees Castiel’s hesitance to touch him, sees Castiel’s eyes shining when Dean makes dinner for him, and knows the depth of Castiel’s feeling. The depth of Castiel’s feeling drives Dean to the 24 hour mechanic shop whose men can give Dean what Castiel can’t.

But Dean comes home to Castiel, too.

“Okay,” Sam says, “sure. If you’re really okay with it, then yeah, I’d— I’d love to know what an angel dreams about.”

Castiel wonders how to say it. “We had a house,” Castiel starts, “me and Dean.”

It was a small house. Castiel remembers that vividly. It was tall enough to feel comfortable, but with only a single floor. Two bedrooms— their room, and a guest room. Roof access. It was the kind of house where you could bump shoulders with someone in the kitchen easily, the kind of house that built intimacy. Castiel remembers Dean standing in the back door with his coffee, face turned up to the sun, as he did every morning. He was so beautiful. He’d had a smile on his face, an easy and gentle smile. He’d taken a sip of his coffee, and said, glad we started shellin’ out for the good stuff, Cas, because he knew Castiel was behind him. After so long together, Dean could trust that Castiel would always want to watch him in the morning sunlight, freckles coming in across the bridge of his nose. Some days, Castiel would kiss his shoulder, and say, You are who I cherish most in my life. Do you know that? and every time, Dean would say, Yes, sweetheart. I know.

“We were so happy,” Castiel whispers. It’s all he can think to say. He looks at the sunset. Dean will come home in an hour with new parts for the ‘58 in the garage and a spring in his step, and Castiel will say, Welcome home, Dean, and Dean will say, Thanks, man. They will sleep in separate rooms. Dean has no need for the kind of love Castiel dreams of. Dean is already as happy as he will ever be. In his own way, in the way Dean has outlined with his words and his body, Dean has delineated what it is that he wants and what it is he finds unnecessary. Castiel is honored to fit almost entirely into what Dean wants. The only thing he wishes is that he could jettison the remains.

“Did you— did you know you were in a dream?”

“The whole time.”

“And you—” Sam cuts himself off. “Jesus. That’s— wow. Did it, uh… I mean, what did you feel?”

Castiel considers the question. “I think a better way to phrase it is that I knew it… I knew it wasn’t material. That what I was experiencing was a construction. But it’s not… that distinction isn’t meaningful to me, the way it likely is to humans.”

“No shit,” Sam barks, too aggressive to be a laugh. Castiel looks at him. He’s hunched over, knee wiggling. “It’s— it’s important to me to— to— to know what’s real. That means something to me. Being certain about what the truth is.”

“I understand.”

“But I can’t know,” Sam says, and he looks at Castiel. Half-chuckling still, he says, “I think about it every day, but I can’t know. And you do know, but you don’t care. How fucked is that?”

Castiel’s mouth twitches, but he isn’t happy. He knows Sam isn’t either. “I wish I could give you my certainty,” he says, and Sam looks away. “All I can say is that you are real. I see you. I sense you, in all ways.”

Sam nods. He breathes, deeply, and asks, “Do you miss it?”

Castiel doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. Does he miss his house with Dean, the warm sunlight through the bay windows, the way Dean’s hands would slide over Castiel’s thighs in the front of the Impala? “No,” he says, because he thinks also of Dean’s bunker kitchen chili, and his unfettered delight at cowboy movies. “No, I don’t think so. Once — you remember, with God — once Dean asked me what about all this was real.”

“Yeah. I had the same question.”

“I told him we are.”

Sam exhales. “Oh.”

“Maybe that’s why it doesn’t matter to me,” Castiel realizes. “I know that Dean and I are real, that our friendship is— is a truth which has shaped our paths, in all ways. Whether it’s a djinn dream or a material place, I know the truth.”

Sam nods, considers it. Eventually, he asks, “What made you wake up?”

“I tried the moment I first realized,” Castiel says. “And again, a few— what I perceived as a few weeks later. That was when you found me. The first time I was too weak to escape on my own, and the djinn captured me again.”

“Shit, Cas,” Sam breathes. “You— you— you did it twice?”

“I’ve killed more often for less,” Castiel says. “Killing myself was easy.”

Sam doesn’t ask. Perhaps they’ve all tallied each other’s body counts. Castiel wonders if Sam keeps a list of all the people Castiel has killed.

Instead, Sam says, “Well. Here’s a— okay. The distinction between dreams and real life doesn’t matter to you. I get that. My question is, is it right to say that the material world has— that it’s primary, I guess?”

It’s interesting, to attempt to apply dialectical materialism to an angel. But perhaps faithful to God’s original purpose. “You’ve seen Heaven,” Castiel says, working it out as he says it. “It’s nothing but memories. Consciousness. You’ve seen Hell, too.”

“Yeah.”

“The only way to describe these places is through metaphor. A hallway. A cage. Ripping, tearing. I think that tells us that Earth is where true creation happens. No matter what Chuck says or does, you create your own destiny. Here.”

“Shit.” Sam shakes his head. The sun has gone down; now, Sam and Castiel are accompanied by twilight mosquitoes, by stars coming in up above. “We make our own choices, huh.”

“We have to.” That’s perhaps what was wrong with the djinn dream, the reason why Castiel couldn’t stay there. It had nothing to do with whether it was real or not. It was about choice. That Dean in that back doorway of that sunlit house must have had no choice — because this Dean, his Dean, would’ve chosen otherwise.

[occult-castiel]

The Same Page

This is my @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @eclypseaf!!! The request was open, but bonus points for Miracle being present. So I wrote some post empty rescue fic!

This one honestly gave me a really hard time and I have no idea why. I hope you like it and have has an awesome christmas!

[Ao3 Link]

The portal spits them out in the dungeon.

Dean stumbles out first, a half step ahead of Cas. Human, malleable, and very much alive with one of the little dude's arms draped over Dean's shoulder.

Cas stumbles forward. Dean shoots an arm out in front of him, places a hand firmly against his chest. He maneuvers his other arms under his trenchcoat, grips his side firm.

His skins almost cool to the touch — much too cold to be safe. Not for a human, especially a brand new one.

And what if he's sick? Or gets sick and can't get better? Without his grace, there's a whole new set of worries. A bad flu that gets worse until he's gone, a hunt going wrong, fucking cancer. Heart disease kills pretty much everyone, doesn't it?

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the gentle thud of Cas' heart against his palm.

The last eight months haven't been easy. Not between the alcohol Sam eventually cut him off from, and the hunts getting sparse, and Jack being terrifying and gone until he wasn't.

Cas lulls his head to the side. His inky heart sticks to his forehead, and his blueberry-sweet eyes are unfocused but still manage to catch Dean's.

It's achingly familiar, and he smiles easy. "Hey there, sunshine."

Cas pinches his brows together as his head swims to stay upright. He slurs through some half-baked, nonsense question about coral reef bleaching, and Dean's so relieved he laughs.

Cas smiles at the sound, dazed and feather-light, but the joy is unmistakable.

It's the best thing Dean's ever seen. Fuck, he missed him. Missed him so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Cas winces — what little help he was giving Dean in holding him up falls. He makes up the difference quick. Weak fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Sorry —"

"S'okay. Gonna —" he swallows hard. Tries to shove away the distinct pin-prick in his tear ducts that always means he needs to man the hell up. "Gonna get you to a bed, okay?"

Cas grunts, a pitiful noise that's mostly air and entirely feeble. "Tired."

"Rest then. It ain't far. I gotcha, buddy."

When he nods, his hair brushes Dean's neck.

It's not well thought out. The lack of work and overload of carbs haven't done Dean's muscles any favors. His joints creak and protest every step, but his room isn't far, and he'd be damned before he let's Cas feel like he has to do anything alone this time.

Miracle hops off the bed the moment the door opens.

Dean lays Cas on top of the bunched up blanket. Once he's down, Dean slowly works the trencoast and suit jacket off, his hands careful as they trail across the thin cotton of his shirt.

Cas shivers, and Dean wrestles to tug the blanket out from under him, Miracle nuzzling the side of his leg the whole time.

She's probably hungry. Or just wants attention. He hasn't exactly been available the last couple weeks, too busy with his nose in piles of research. But it all payed off.

Cas grimaces in his sleep, and it twists the cords in Dean's chest. He reaches his hand out and ghosts his fingers across the sweat-stained hair stuck to his skin, gently pushing it to the side.

He'd said it once, not more than a month ago, in the darkness of his room, Miracle tucked as close as he could get her.

He said he loved me, and I — I didn't say it back. But I do. God I do.

Dean trails his hand from his forehead to the flushed pillow of his cheeks. The other knuckles roughly at his eyes and comes back wet.

He has no god damn idea what he wouldve done without Miracle to talk to. Cause he could never get it out to Sam. Not those last moments. Not what Cas really means to him. Always too close to an edge of something larger than any apocalypse they've ever dealt with.

He traces down low enough to brush across Cas' wrist, the pained look still on his face.

Dean swallows, his heart hammers hard in his throat. Timid even though the guy is unconscious, Dean grabs his hand.

His mind blanks. Turns to complete static — a jumble of half-formed thoughts about every reason he ever told himself not to.

He's an angel. The worlds ending. Always ending. He doesn't feel that way. Can't, the equipment for it's not there. It's why he leaves, isn't it? And what the fuck could ever hope to start when it's all always falling apart? When they could fall apart.

Everyone leaves.

A flash of cold prickles down his back, and he tries to takes a deep breath. It goes down ragged. There was something he read once, about picking out a sense.

Cas' breath, slow and steady. The clink of Mircale's claws on the floor. A muted buzz from the florescent lights in the hall.

He breaths again, a little easier. His fingers curls into Cas' palm, and his finger twitch against Dean in response. The dent in his brows relax, his jaw goes slack.

"S'okay Cas." He squeezes. "Just... be okay."

When his phone rings, dumped and forgotten on the other side of the room, he isn't quite sure how to let go. Like the ligaments in his hand have cemented in place, forgotten the muscle memory to make the movements happen.

When the second call comes through, Cas mumbles something. Dean's shoulder slack, and he pulls his hands back, clammy and with a slight tremor.

It's Sam. There's a small tug of guilt — he should've called him the moment he put Cas down. He knows he would've been worried sick if Sam was the one that had to go.

Sam's relieved too, promises to buy stuff for dinner on his way back from where Dean went in the Empty about fifty miles out. And he must hear something in his voice, because he stresses to go watch a movie or something and let Cas sleep it off.

Of course he's right. They knew Cas would be out cold. But leaving the room is still hard, and he lingers in the doorway until he gets a good look at Miracle's mess of tangled fur.

He hasn't brushed her hair, since that's practically what the fur is, in weeks.

"C'mon girl."

He grabs the brush from the bedside table, casts on last look at Cas, and takes Miracle to the TV room.

She hops on the couch next to him, tail thumping with excitement.

"You wanna get pretty to meet Cas later?"

She nuzzles his hand, sticks her nose against the brush, and a little bit of the stress from today lightens up.

He flips on some netflix show about baking food, and talks to Miracle as he starts in on her snout.

It's ritualistic to touch on whatevers going on with her, at this point.

As her fur smooths, he tells her about the Empty. Its piss-poor lighting, the mind boggling way directions work, how it has this awful burnt-licorice and gasoline stench clung to the nothingness of its everything.

It kinda makes his head hurt.

Almost two full episodes in, he has all her fur neat and tidy, and his little monologue has circled back to Cas. She'd know a lot about him if she could talk.

"It's hard to believe he's really back. And — and maybe it'll be good. We could, I dunno, get you a yard?" He nods, smiles. "Yeah, I bet your spoiled ass would like that. The bunker ain't a place for pets."

Miracle leaps from the couch, and someone clears their throat from the door.

Cas stands in the doorway, hunched in on himself. Dark strands of hair twist up in random directions, and the casual clothes Dean left him fit snugly.

He looks... comfortable. Like he slipped into humanity ages ago, not this afternoon.

"Cas."

He tilts his lips up, tight and sheepish. "I see you have a dog now."

"Yeah. Miracle. She uh — she helped me." He motions vaguely to his head. "Might not be batting a hundred up here if not for her."

Cas glances down at her, and the tense smile softens. "I'm very grateful then."

Almost reverent, he scratches the side of her ear.

Dean shakes his head. Blinks. Two things he never thought he'd see side by side mixed with the insanity of the day make none of this seem real.

Deep breath.

"She can — she can be there for you too," Dean says. "If you need it. Dogs are great listeners. Even the Madonna types like this one."

Cas gives a contemplative hum. "They are both blonde."

He puffs a breath of air. It's easy to forget Cas actually knows what he's talking about now, sometimes. Even if he does still miss the point by a mile.

"It was your turn."

Cas raises an eyebrow.

"To, uh, pick a movie." He motions to the seat next to him. "If you want."

Cas runs his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn't look at Dean. Doesn't say anything either. Just nods, walks over, and sinks into the couch.

It's a respectable distance. Close enough Dean would be able to sense him, far enough away they won't touch.

Miracle curls up on the other side of Cas, head flopped on his lap, right next to his balled up hands.

"Is it over?" His voice is small.

Dean doesn't have to ask. "Chuck isn't aproblem anymore." Cas sighs, slinks down bonelessly into the cushions. "We figured it out, took his powers. Jack's fixing up Heaven with it. Says he's gunna do that, find a way to put Amara back together, and then come home."

"Good. I don't think I'm up to fighting standards." He rolls his head to the side. They're close enough Dean can make out each muscle in his neck when he swallows. "You didn't have to save me, Dean. I'd — made peace with that fate."

It's bullshit. It's bullshit and Cas has to know it. He almost tells him a much, but if he can't have that talk now, then he never will.

He licks his lips. It doesn't help the dryness.

"Did you mean it?"

It's a dumb question, but one he needs answered.

Cas doesn't miss a beat. "That and more." The serenity in his words is endearing as it is cutting when he adds, "But we don't have to address it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It's Dean's turn to melt with relief. "Good — that's good."

Cas winces. "I understand if you'd like some space —"

He starts to stand up, and panic seizes Dean's chest like a vice grip. He grabs his wrist and Cas freezes.

"No! God no. Cas, it — it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He looks confused, before some amount of understanding smoothes out some of the worried lines in his face. His eyes flick down to Dean's mouth for an instant. "How was it supposed to happen, then?"

"I thought, maybe on a hunt? Or — I don't know. Just... " some place I could say it back.

Its not good enough, saying it without saying it. Cas gave a speech. He saved Dean's life, saved the god damn world. All without knowing.

He shakes his head. Starts again. He had enough practice between thoughts he couldn't shove away and late night pet-therapy. "I thought you knew. Hell, I've been scared everyone knows. And if they did, you did too, right?"

"Subtly isn't always my strongest suit."

He laughs, and it's almost on the wrong side of sane. "Don't I know it."

He can do direct.

Slow enough that Cas has time to pull back, he runs his hand up his arm, cradles it against the back of Cas' neck. He leans across the small distance and kisses him.

It's clumsy and unsure, and Cas places a skittish hand on Dean's side like he's not sure what he's allowed to have even now, but their lips mesh together in a way that feels better than anything he can remember.

When they part, he's not sure either one of them are breathing. And he can't look at Cas, not when he says it. Not yet. So he presses their foreheads together, keeps his eyes fully lidded.

"I don't know how you could think you aren't worth saving. You — you're it for me."

"Dean —"

He shakes his head, and the tips of their noses brush. "I love you more than I know what to do with. You know that right?"

Bewildered, Cas says, "I didn't."

"Yean, well. Now you do."

He scoots back in place, flushed firm against the cushion. Their hands tangle together, and their knees are touching, and it's too much and not enough. But mostly not enough. Dean dares a glance over. Cas is staring at their hands, a pleased smile on his face.

And they're on the same page.

"I think you said something about a yard when I walked in?"

Instead of answering he says, "We should retire. I'm too old for this shit."

"Entirely?"

Dean shrugs. "A hunt here and there wouldn't hurt I guess."

"We'll talk about it later." He reaches over him, grabs the remote. "I think you said it was my turn?"

Dean grins, full and toothy. "Yeah, just no more romcoms, dude. I can only take so many."

Cas nods, curt and serious. "Of course."

He does anyway, and it's the best shitty movie Dean's ever seen.

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

-

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

-

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

-

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

-

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

-

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

-

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

[apatheticanvas91305]

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas​ celebration day to @firefly124​! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though. 

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed.  Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

[cassiecasyl]

sometimes you just don’t know the answer (wait for me)

Anyone remember this fic? Well, I’ve finally finished it!!!! 

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3 

or read the whole fic on ao3!!!! 

chapter 4: what died didn’t stay dead 

Are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark? 

  -  Lost Stars by Keira Knightley  

It’s an old tale, and that’s not how it ends. 

Long, shadowy fingers wrapped around Castiel’s wrists, pulling him back, slowly and deliberately leading him to be devoured by the Empty. Dean could almost hear the universe’s malicious laugh. He’d be stripped of his love once more. 

No. Ancient, familiar rage boiled his blood and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at the shadows. It was bleeding love, protective and fierce. There was no fear, because everything was already on the line —  Dean had nothing left to lose. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, at nothing and everything in particular. They couldn’t lose now. Not with him standing in the light as Cas succumbed back to the dark — it wasn’t fair. 

Dean did what he couldn’t back then, what shock and fear and disbelief — and perhaps, above it all, cruel, cruel, capricious Gods — prevented; he reached forward, and where he touched, he brought light with him, breaking into tiny rainbows against the universe’s shards. He disentangled Cas’s hand and grabbed them himself, holding on and never letting go. 

The fabric of stars was in their hands, being overwritten as they stood there. “You’re not leaving,” Dean promised, and Cas looked up at his sun that lit up the world. Finally, Dean pulled him close, holding him in the here and now, just tightly enough to make sure that no dust escaped his vessel. “Not on my watch,” he whispered defiantly, his voice breaking, and Cas almost chuckled. 

I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. 

Dean breathed in his angel’s smell — home with a whiff of honey. How the sweet substance always clinged onto the vessel was a mystery, but Dean wouldn’t want it any other way. Cas nuzzled his face into the side of his neck in retaliation and Dean relaxed for the first time in years. They were safe. They made it. Cas was solid and alive and real and here. Nothing could ever bring them apart. 

Golden light drowned out the retreating darkness behind Cas, and the angel looked up in admiration, that childlike adoration in his eyes that had Dean absolutely smitten. Fuck, he thought, I’m in love. Laughter bubbled up his throat, carefree like the amber sky, the beginning of a new morning. 

Maybe, in this moment, they found a new destination that would always lead them back to each other's arms, or maybe it had been there all along. Their journey was the same as yours, the same as anyone’s, yet so uniquely different — they’ve defied the universe, won a challenge set up to fail. At last, they knew the way, knew where to place their feet — where they’ve always been going. Home. Turned from promise to reality, alive between their arms. Home. The long way round. 

Dean loosened their hug to look the angel into his eyes — the drowning blue a sky he was falling into, or maybe, flying. He gulped, suddenly nervous like a schoolboy standing before their crush. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, fighting against the instinct of wanting to escape these piercing, knowing eyes, because his words held so much weight. “I—,” he started and stopped. This was stupid. He’d said it before. He just let Cas out of hell through a deal that required true love. Why couldn’t he just say it? 

“I know,” Castiel intervened, always wanting to comfort him. Bless the angel. 

“No,” Dean shook his head, “I need to say it. Because you deserve to hear it.” Cas’s eyes were impossibly patient, giving him all the time in the world. He was the calm ocean against his forest fire, waiting for him like he’d done for years — Dean couldn’t let him wait any longer. 

“I love you,” he said, whispering the promise into the sky so it may let it be known to the whole world; Dean Winchester loves Castiel. It was a simple fact of life, and he was found. 

“I know,” Cas repeated his answer, smiling. The happiness in his eyes made it all worth it. 

“Can’t believe you just Han Solo-ed me,” Dean joked, and Cas bellowed out a laugh. 

“I love you,” Cas said, lost and found in the moment. His heart could’ve contently jumped out of his chest right now and Dean found himself thankful Fred Jones wasn’t around. 

His soul had been broken and shattered countless times, but now, every last particle constructed a wondrous mosaic with the ragged pieces of Cas’s grace, cosmic consequences pulling them together rather than apart. One could’ve called it celestial, heavenly, divine even; but it was fundamentally human, terrene.  

As sunlight found them, they found each other. They were stars in the daylight, no longer dancing around each other but colliding into one. Dean almost expected an explosion as their lips met — it would’ve been fitting. But, alas, there were no fireworks, no big announcment. It was the softest touch he had ever experienced, true like nothing else. It was the sunlight warming up their bodies, the sunlight Dean flew right into. It was something he’d never thought possible — love. 

They were two stars finally found, lighting up the dark, walking away from the night sky, from a graveyard. Walking home. Their light burned on, growing to a calming, graceful blue as it filled their own sky. It was filled with a love that had done everything — it had defied the universe, defied doubts and fear — and had survived. But then again, what isn’t alive can never truly die. They’d pulled it into life, away from the realm of uncertainties, of will they, won’t they. 

Cas was here, alive and well, and they kissed under a rainbow. It was a fairytale, and for a moment, Dean blinked, trying to wake himself up. This could all be a dream. He could wake up any moment and still be in their bunker, sunken to the ground in sorrow. Dean drew in a shaky breath, hoping with all his might that this was real. 

“I’m here,” the angel said in his heavenly voice, cupping his cheeks. Dean grabbed onto his hand, holding on for dear life. “We’re real.” 

Behind them, the sun disappeared behind clouds, revealing the familiar surroundings of the map room. Home. Dean looked back at Cas and smiled. With the angel at his side, it truly was home. They made it. Dean laughed in realization, and drew Cas close again, reuniting their lips. They made it. 

“I really didn’t need to see that,” Sam, ever the cockblock, interrupted. As Castiel turned away, Dean pulled him back for a quick peck, just for the hell of it. He was allowed to do that. Holy hell, he was allowed to do that. No cage in hell would ever be able to contain his grin, not ever again. 

“It’s good to see you back,” Sam greeted them before Dean could think of a good retort to his earlier line. He welcomed Cas with a hug, and then embraced his brother too. The last time Dean didn’t mind everything being so lovey-dovey must’ve been when they were kids. Or maybe in the Empty. Not that he’d admit that. He briefly squeezed Cas’s hand, just to remind himself that he was still there. The angel looked at him, smiling softly, and laid his head on his shoulder, nuzzling closer. 

“Castiel!” Jack stormed into the room and into his father’s arms, uncaring about Dean right next to them, who huffed in complaint. “You did it.” The kid was all smiles and laughter — one of those moments that showed his age. Dean smiled. His family was all there. For the first time in decades, he felt happy. 

“Of course we did it,” Dean said, his cheeks starting to hurt with how much he was smiling. He never noticed how he could see them at the edge of his vision when he smiled wholeheartedly — something he knew was promised to happen a lot more now. “Who do you take us for?” 

“The most epic love story ever written,” Jack answered and Dean blushed. Suddenly, everything was too warm and too much all at once. Realization was still sickering in, overwhelming the man. He retreated slightly, away from Castiel, even though the angel felt like safety, love, everything he’s missed for years and didn’t even realize he needed. 

“Shut up,” Dean mumbled, looking down. 

“It’s okay,” Cas assured him. As Dean glanced up at him, the angel’s face was lit up in admiration for his adoptive son. He had never seen something more beautiful, more serene than the love in his angel’s eyes. He was glowing with love, and Dean was basking in his light. He was the stars blinking hope into the night, the moon guiding the hunter home, the sun over a long lost planet. Otherwordly, yet wholly home. 

Dean would never believe his luck. A part of him would never believe this story, scoff if told to him, memories already bathed in doubt. He couldn’t trust his own mind, could he? Soothing grace touched his mind, assuring him once more. I heard you. I’m here. We’re what’s real. I love you. 

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Sam said, still chuckling. Dean’s head snapped up at his brother, being ripped so suddenly from Cas’s sweet nothings that hummed on quieter now. “I’ve known for years. It’s hardely something one can miss. Pretty much everybody knows.” 

Dean opened his mouth. That’s what I’m worried about, he would’ve replied once before, and some shadows still wanted him to, but he found that he didn’t care. Something had changed, and that something was the angel at his side loving him unashamedly. Castiel, who was never afraid to love.  

You changed me, Dean. 

Yeah, you did too, bud. 

Instead, he nodded at Sam in appreciation and wrapped an arm around his angel. They’d walked through hell and worse, and showed the universe their love, and the universe had bowed to it. There was nothing left to hide, and nothing they couldn’t beat together. 

“Damn right we did it,” Dean whispered, making Cas laugh. Because if anyone could’ve done this, it was them. 

[woodsteingirl]

okay here’s the much awaited (at least for me) first chapter of my multi chapter fic, where we go from here! it will be below the cut but i’m also uploading it to ao3 here

It was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill ghoul hunt. They’d be back in a day at most. But it had been more than a day and Jack was getting worried. Normally he wouldn't be this on edge, but Sam was off the grid with Eileen and wouldn't be in range for a few days. Dean and Cas had gone to Tennessee three days ago to deal with a call from a concerned local authority who got their number after another hunter had stopped by the town to deal with a vampire nest. They’d promised Jack they would call him if they really needed him, but they hadn't been picking up his calls or listening to any of his voicemails. So he did the only thing someone with the innermost thoughts of a four-year-old would. He contacted the first person he could think of that Dean and Cas cared about, minus Sam.

Claire was doing the normal thing to be doing at one in the morning on a Tuesday. Sleeping. She was understandably alarmed when someone knocked on the door at that hour. She opened the door, marine-grade knife in hand (a birthday present from Dean), to a kid no older than herself.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing at my house at two in the morning,” she questioned.

“Hi! I’m Jack.” He raised his hand and did a little wave.

“Okay, Jack, still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I’m sort of your little brother? Did Dean and Cas not tell you?”

Dean and Cas? Huh. They had mentioned a kid, but she had expected a toddler not a teenage boy. “The god kid?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh. Okay then, so why aren’t you with Dean and Cas right now? They kick you out or something?”

“No, they’ve been on a hunting trip. They haven’t been home or answered any of my calls in a few days,” he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, “I came here to see if you’d help me look for them.”

Claire could see how worried the kid was and if anything she was no stranger to absent parents and she’d stop anyone going through that if she could. Plus it’s not like she had anything better to do these days.

“Okay but you have to let me get the rest of my night’s sleep. I’ll pack a bag and we’ll hit the road tomorrow morning.”

Jack was pretty much beaming at her now, it was evident that he looked up to Claire from what Dean and Cas had told him about her. Kaia, who he regularly talked to, also told him a lot about Claire. She was like the sibling he never had!

Claire already had a bag packed. It was her ‘drop everything, something bad has happened and I need to haul ass’ bag, so far she hadn’t had to use it aside from one time she just didn’t feel like packing a real bag. She didn’t think she ever would have to, but here she was. The stakes of the whole ordeal hadn’t set in her mind until now. If they didn’t find them or get there in time, Dean and Cas could be dead. They could be dead right now. She put those thoughts out of her mind, in favor of the more optimistic outlook of Jack’s probably just paranoid. She still couldn’t sleep very well that night.

Jack was still sitting on the couch in the living room. Claire still lived with Jody and the other girls so he couldn’t do much else without waking someone up. He eventually fell asleep on the couch. He woke up when Claire came into the room.

“You ready to go or what?” She asked.

“Yeah yeah im ready,” he mumbled back, still half asleep.

“Do you want me to drive?” Claire asked.

“I don’t have a car,” Jack said, with a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he wouldn’t have a car.

“How the hell did you get here then?”

“I can teleport.”

“I guess I’m driving then.”

Claire put her bag in the back seat and Jack took the passenger seat of Claire’s old Subaru. And they were off.

“So where are we going”

“Dean said they were going to Tennessee for a ghoul hunt. Someone in a small town called them, I’m not sure what town though.”

“Well, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, then.”

They did have a lot of ground to cover. The seventeen-hour drive from South Dakota to Tennessee was a lot in and of itself, but to try and find Dean and Cas without having a clue where to look was another story.

“Do you want to look in the news for somewhere to start?” Claire asked, not looking away from the road. “Maybe if you found something in our lane we could take care of that and see if they knew anything about Dean and Cas.”

“Good idea.” Jack seemed to be happy just being out of the bunker and having something to do. He pulled out his phone to look at any news, he looked at all the major cities first. There weren’t that many. Nothing in Nashville or Knoxville.

“Heres something! A public works director in Chattanooga ran over the city treasurer with a car.”

“That just sounds like regular murder. Probably for money or something, maybe they wanted the position.”

“Yeah but there have been an increasing number of murder cases there, way more than normal, all in the past two weeks. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? If it’s not our thing then we can just move on.”

“Chattanooga here we come, I guess,” Claire said. It wasn’t exactly the place she had thought of when thinking of the trip, she’d imagined a lot more action and less investigating a murder in Tennessee. But hey, it’s not for her sake. If it gets Dean and Cas back safe it’s worth it in her eyes.

About another hour passed in relative silence. It was going to get awkward if they were like this for another 12 hours.

“So do you listen to music?” Claire asked, just to break the silence.

“Yeah, I do. Mostly whatever Dean listens to.”

“Well do you want to play something?”

“Sure!” He seemed oddly excited about something as ordinary as picking the music, but he mostly rode in the car with Dean which means other people seldom got their say in what they listened to. Claire’s car had an aux cable which was also more than one could say about Baby. Jack really didn’t listen to much, he would listen to Disney soundtracks on occasion, but those are a sort of ‘listen to it once then it gets annoying’ thing.

“What are your thoughts on lo-fi hip hop beats to chill/study/sleep to,” Jack asked in a way that didn’t really sound like a question.

“There is really nothing else you can think of. In your super powerful angel kid brain, all you can think of is lo-fi beats to chill/study/sleep to.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Truth be told Claire would rather listen to anything but lo-fi beats at the moment, but when put on the spot like that it’s hard to come up with an idea.

“We could just take turns playing songs for a while.”

It was a flat stretch of land for a good amount of miles up ahead so Claire didn’t need to focus so much energy on watching the road.

They went back and forth, Jack played Rainbow Connection from the Muppets and Claire played Celebrity Skin by Hole, so on and so forth. They went on like this for a while, Jack really liked Abba apparently. They eventually agreed on one of the premade “road trip” playlists on spotify. It was mostly dad rock.

“You still need to eat and stuff, right?”

“Yes, I may be part angel but I still have human DNA and organs.”

“Do you want to stop soon? It might be nice to stay overnight somewhere and just get there in the afternoon.”

“Sure. Saint Lewis isn’t too far away from here.”

They stopped at a shitty fast food restaurant and then went to try and find a motel. Instead of stopping directly in Saint Lewis, they decided to go nearer to Mark Twain National Park, as they figured they would find better luck finding somewhere available without a reservation. And they did. A shabby-looking motel almost directly off the one-lane road. They headed inside and sure enough, there were more than enough rooms. It was by no means the most pleasant place either of them had stayed, but it would do for the night. They’d be out early tomorrow morning. They checked in, the woman working at the desk couldn’t have been more than in her early twenties, which wasn’t what you would think of when you walked in, but they’d seen more suspicious things. Claire dumped her bag at the end of the bed closest to the door.

[dcforts]

fix it fic. 15.20 spoilers 1.5k. ao3

The reaper they send looks at him with compassion. It’s not anyone he knows.

“Welcome, Dean,” she says, “Are you ready to move on?”

Dean blinks, looks back at where he was a second ago, where Sam is still hunched over his lifeless body.

He says, “No, my brother – first I need to make sure he’s gonna be alright.”

She smiles reassuringly and tells him, “He will be.”

But Dean insists, says, “Look, you don’t know me, but I know your boss -”

“I know you, Dean. But without Chuck, things have changed. You’re just like everyone else now.”

Right, no Billie anymore. Just an old regular Death that doesn’t care about him.

“Yeah, well, then let me stick around awhile. As a ghost or something,” he looks back once again at Sam, carrying his body out of the barn, “After everything I did. I'm just asking for this,” he begs. “It won’t be long. Just- just give me a day.”

She accepts.

*

So he sees his funeral.

There’s Jody, and Donna, by Sam’s side. There are the girls, tears streaked faces and broken voices. Kaia doesn’t leave Claire’s side the whole time. Garth is there too, Charlie with Stevie and a whole bunch of hunters he met down the literal road. It’s an impressive turn up, if he’s being honest.

Dean has always thought about how his funeral would look like. Before Sam, he thought his body would just rot away in some abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere, forgotten. He’d hated that. Later, he’d pictured his brother lighted by the fire of his pyre, alone and miserable. He’d hated that even more.

But things had changed and he’d changed and he’d let people in and fought to hold on to them and to do right by them. And he is proud of what he’s done for them and for the whole world; he wouldn’t change a thing. His life had been a difficult one, but he’d known love and family and that was the important part.

Now they are there, saying thank you and goodbye. And he realizes, he was silly to worry about Sam not being alright. Of course he’s going to be alright. He can see it in the way he gets shepherd to the car, fussed over, held, in the way Eileen never lets go of his hand.

So when the reaper comes again and asks “Are you ready, Dean?”, he says, “Yeah, we can go now.”

*

It’s only fair Bobby is the one to welcome him. He hugs him and Dean breathes in car oil and gun powder, and the inside of his house, old books and cheap booze. He doesn’t even question how is that possible.

“Good to see you, boy,” he says in the same gruff voice.

“You know that me being here means I’m dead, right?” he jokes, but accepts the beer Bobby hands him and sits next to him.

“Everybody dies, you ain’t special,” he replies with half a smile. “How was Sam?”

“Oh, you know. I’m sure he’s dealing.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon.”

Dean scoffs, “Hell, I hope not. I hope he lives the longest life, so he can tell me all about it when he comes up.”

Bobby clinks his bottle against his in agreement.

He is the one who tells him about Heaven – points in the distance at Rufus’ house, his own house. He is the one who tells him about Jack. And Cas.

Dean is surprised and gets a little chocked up. “I thought he was in the Empty. I thought – I thought Jack couldn’t reach him there.”

If he thinks that he could have -

But Bobby smiles and takes a sip. “Well, you’re right, but you think that would’ve stopped Jack from trying? He’s your son, after all,” he says and Dean is filled with pride and affection. “But when he got there, turns out, Cas was fighting from the inside.” Dean huffs a laugh and Bobby follows suit. “They broke everyone free, sent the Empty back to sleep. They’re all at peace now.”

“Wh-when did this happen?”

“Who knows. Time is different here. You’ll get used to it.”

Dean waits for Bobby to offer up some other information, but he stays silent.

So he takes a breath and starts, “Is - Cas, is he -?”, but Bobby cuts him off with a look.

“He sure knows you’re here. You just gotta call him.”

Dean nods and swallows but stays put, beer forgotten in his hand.

Another moment passes, then Bobby says, “Go, boy,” and Dean doesn’t look but he knows for a fact there is an eye-roll involved.

That gets him out of his chair and out of the shade of the porch, under a sun that is not too warm, nor too cold. “Thanks Bobby,” he looks back.

He nods and says, “Hey, when you’re done, come over at my place. I’d like you to meet my Karen,” and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen such happiness in his eyes.

*

He takes a few steps from the Roadhouse but when he turns back again, the pub seems miles away and then there’s the Impala right beside him.

“Hey, Baby,” he says, touching her hood affectionately. He leans against her, closes his eyes and concentrates. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna take off in a minute. Just wanted to know if someone wants to come along for a ride?”

He feels brave and light but holds his breath in the defining silence that follows. Before he can feel like a fool though, he hears a flap of wings right in front of him.

He can’t contain the smile that takes over his face. He waits a second more before opening his eyes.

“I would love to.”

Cas is beautiful. Dean has seen him powerful, and he’s seen him determinate, but he’s never seen him so peaceful and ethereal. He looks like home and like something so out of Dean’s reach – except that’s not true. He told him himself that he was wrong about that. The light shines on his face and he’s got a little smile that reminds Dean of one time on the side of a darkly lit road a lifetime ago.

Dean closes the distance in a heartbeat and wraps his arms around him and holds tight. “Hey, Cas.”

He feels the fabric of the trenchcoat against his skin and Cas’ strong arms and warm hands around him and if he didn’t already know he was in Heaven he would have started to suspect it right then. “Hello, Dean.”

They hold each other for a long time and Dean thinks of what Bobby said and wonders how many years are going by and how many more could go by before he gets sick of that.

He pulls back a little, just enough to look at his face but not enough to get out of his hold. He jokes, “You could’ve come find me at the gates, thrown me a welcome party.”

Cas presses his lips together. “I thought it was best to let you decide where you wanted to go and who you wanted to see.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t wanna see you?”

Cas hesitates but Dean cuts him off before he can say anything.

He cradles his face and makes sure Cas is looking straight at him when he says, “Cas. I love you too. Of course, I love you too,” and it comes out a little broken and a little breathy but he feels giddy and Cas is smiling and then there’s kisses, lips and hair through his fingers and a whole new shiny beautiful world. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me,” he says. “I’m so glad you’re here, I can’t believe my luck.”

Dean keeps thinking, Cas was right. All this time he thought that the best thing that could happen was to know that Cas loved him, but the way Dean feels now, seeing his eyes shining as he hears his words, yeah, nothing can beat that. He decides then, that he’ll tell him everything that Cas always deserved to hear and he’ll make sure he never forgets it. It may not make up for the time he spent doubting, but for sure he’ll try. Cas grabs his hand, “I feel the same way.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “So, what are we gonna do?”

“I could show you around. I thought I was offered a ride?”

“Yeah,” laughs Dean, pulling him along, walking backward towards the car. “You sure I’m not keeping you? I heard you’re big shot now.”

“I am God’s father. There are perks to the position,” Cas says, as they both get inside.

“Good. Hope that means you’re gonna stay. Cause I’m kinda sick of you getting out my sight.”

Cas looks back at him from the passenger seat, and it’s a sight Dean knows very well, but this time it’s different. This time he smiles and says the most amazing thing Dean could hope for.

He says: “I’m not going anywhere.”

[petrichoravellichor]

Begin and End There (Part 2)

For Day 6 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: Destiel).

Note: This is Chapter 2 of 2; you can find the post with Chapter 1 here, or you can read the entire work on Ao3.

Rating: T

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, minor Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, minor Castiel & Sam Winchester, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Warnings: Brief, non-graphic mentions of canon violence; reference to Dean’s suicidal ideation/decision to temporarily kill himself in 13x05; references to repeated major character death that didn’t stick - to be clear, this fic has a happy ending and is basically everything Dean needed to say and Cas needed to hear.

Summary: After the Empty takes him, Castiel wakes up in the last place he expected (Chapter 1), with a second chance at happiness when he reunites with Dean and the latter finally gets to speak his truth (Chapter 2).

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Love him, and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” —James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

********************

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was imploring, gentle, just like it had been the first two times he’d tried. “Come on, sit down.”

Dean ignored him and continued pacing, the cramped stillness of the motel room a vicious sounding board for his thoughts. Among them all, he clung to one thought in particular, the only one keeping him sane: Jack’s gonna get him back. He said he would. He has to...

He could feel Sam’s worried gaze on him from where his brother sat in a chair by the door. It had been Sam who had insisted they grab the motel room after Jack had gone, having intuited, rightly, that Dean was a mess even if he was trying to hide it and that he needed somewhere private where he didn’t have to. The only problem was that, for Dean, privacy in the sense of space to break down meant an audience of zero, not one, and Dean didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself together.

“Damn it, Sam,” he growled a minute later, “don’t you and Eileen have stuff to talk about? You don’t gotta hang around like a damn babysitter.”

If Sam was annoyed by Dean’s tone, he didn’t show it; instead, he just leaned forward, folding his hands in his lap. “We do, but it can wait,” he said calmly. "Besides, you heard her: someone had to go back to the silo and make sure all the Apocalypse-world hunters made it back okay. She said she’d text me when she got there.”

Dean huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, well...Still. You could’ve gone with her, is all I’m sayin’.”

“No. Not until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dean, enough.” Sam was frowning now, and there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “You think I don’t know what Cas means to you?” He scoffed and shook his head. “Because if so, I’m sorry, but you’re not as hard to read as you think you are, not for me.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, stunned, and as he wilted under Sam’s knowing gaze, the full force of his exhaustion hit him all at once and damn near brought him to his knees. “I can’t lose him,” he heard himself admit in a hoarse whisper. He swallowed and shook his head. “Not again.”

Sam’s expression softened. “I know. We’ll get him back; if Jack can’t save him, we’ll find another way. We always do.”

Dean sighed, then nodded. Sam was right; of course he was. They’d get Cas back even if Dean had to storm into the Empty and grab him himself, grip Cas’s formerly feathered ass and raise him from perdition for a change. Cas, you idiot, what the hell’s the matter with you? he imagined himself demanding. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?

Suddenly, there was a shuffling sound outside, and before Sam could even begin to stand, Dean had bolted across the room and yanked open the door, determined to hear whatever news Jack was bringing them so that he could actually do something instead of just waiting, only...only it wasn’t Jack standing on the other side of the threshold.

Cas gazed back at him as though in a daze, hand raised in an aborted knock; after a beat, he lowered it and cleared his throat. “I—Hello, Dean.” He nodded past Dean toward the interior of the room. “May I come in?”

Dean nodded wordlessly, feet suddenly like lead as he stepped aside so Cas could brush past him. He closed the door and sank down on the edge of the nearest bed as Sam let out an exclamation of relief and stood to pull Cas into a hug.

“It’s good to have you back, man,” Sam said warmly, clapping Cas on the back. As they drew apart, he added, “How’s Jack? Did you have a chance to talk with him?”

Cas nodded, smiling. “I did. He told me everything that’s happened since…” Cas’s smile faltered, and his eyes darted over to land on Dean, who suddenly felt as though his face were on fire. Before Dean could say anything, though, Cas looked away, as though he were the one who’d been burned. “He told me everything,” he said instead. “He also said that he’ll be home as soon as he’s able, once he and Amara have finished remaking Heaven.”

Sam raised a brow, glancing curiously from Cas to Dean and back again; clearly, he’d clearly picked up on the weirdness between them. For a moment, Dean thought he was going to call them out on it and started casting about for something innocuous to say; however, Sam just smiled and nodded. “That’s great, Cas. Thanks for the update. And for saving Dean. If you hadn’t gone with him…” Sam swallowed, a more sober expression settling on his face. He reached out and clasped Cas’s shoulder. “Just...thank you. For everything.”

The genuineness of Sam’s words seemed to catch Cas off guard; then, after a moment, his lips quirked in a timid sort of smile, and he nodded. “Of course.”

Sam beamed at him, then took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Okay, I’m gonna go grab lunch while I wait to hear from Eileen, so I’ll see you guys later.” Then, with a poorly concealed smirk, he looked over at Dean and added, “Text me if I should steer clear of the Bunker for a few days.”

Dean glared daggers at him. Sammy, I swear to our kid who is now God...“How ’bout you just get a move on before I kick your ass? Bitch.”

But Sam just chuckled. “Good luck, jerk,” he replied, fondly; then, with a wave, he turned and headed for the door.

A moment later, he was gone, and the room was unbearably silent. Dean glanced up at Cas to find the latter regarding him almost shyly, as though any words uttered between them would bring the walls crashing down. For his part, Dean would have almost welcomed it. A quick death sounded pretty good right about now; at the very least, it’d absolve him from having to speak.

In the end, it was Cas who cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Jack said you wanted to see me?”

“Uh.” Dean sucked in a shaky breath, then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” Then, feeling his face grow warm at Cas’s continued stare, he coughed and looked away. “Cas, have a seat. We, uh, we need to talk.”

He’d expected Cas to sit opposite him, in the chair Sam had vacated; but before he realized what was going on, Cas had crossed over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, less than a foot of mattress between their thighs. The heat on Dean’s face licked down his neck and back, almost overwhelming him, and if his legs hadn’t suddenly turned to jelly, he probably would have bolted.

Instead, he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “So...Jack was able to get you back, huh?” He immediately wanted to kick himself, because of course Jack had been able to get Cas back, that much was obvious. Way to go, dumbass...

Thankfully, Cas just nodded. “He promised the Empty a future of noninterference within Its realm in exchange for my life, and It accepted.”

“Huh.” Dean chewed his tongue thoughtfully. “Sounds like one of us actually made a good deal for a change.”

Cas gave him a tentative smile. “I hope so.” A pause; then: “Dean, I need you to know that I don’t regret my choice, because that’s what it was: my choice; and there’s nothing you could have said or done that would have made me choose differently.” Cas was speaking quickly, urgently, looking at Dean as though afraid Dean would interrupt. “And I also need you to know that I meant every word that I said about how I see you. Now that Chuck is gone, you can finally be happy, and...if it’s possible, I would like to be part of that happiness.” He looked up at Dean sadly, adding, “but if that’s not what you want, if you want me to leave, I promise I understand.”

Dean, who up to this point had only been able to listen in stunned silence, finally managed to unstick his voice. “If that’s not what I...What are you...You think I don’t want you to be a part of it?”

“I...” Cas looked down at his hands. “I’m aware that my connection to Heaven is no longer of particular value, and more than that, I don’t wish the knowledge of what you mean to me to make you uncomfortable.” He smiled sadly. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean; I recognize that. I—”

“Stop,” Dean interrupted, because every word out of Cas’s mouth was landing like a knife in his heart. He reached out and gripped Cas’s shoulder tightly, causing the latter to look up in startled surprise. “Damn it, Cas, stop talking like I’d only want you in my life if you were a goddamn tool I could use. You’re not a hammer, remember? Not mine or anyone else’s.”

Cas’s stunned expression melted into one of soft wonder. He nodded slowly, gazing back at Dean with eyes so earnest and hopeful that Dean had to look away lest he fall right into them. With a nervous swallow, Dean licked his lips and dropped his hand from Cas’s shoulder, determined to keep going now that he’d gotten started. “And..and about me not owing you anything...Cas, I owe you everything.” He made himself meet Cas’s gaze again, because damn it, this was apparently something Cas had doubts on, and Dean needed him to understand. “You pulled me out of Hell, and you helped me and Sam stop the Apocalypse and saved both our asses more times than I can count, and Jack’s alive because of you and so is everyone else in the world. And you think what, that I’m just gonna forget about all that?” he demanded, just barely managing to keep his voice from breaking. He shook his head. “Fuck that, Cas; you’re not disposable.”

Cas, whose expression had become increasingly anguished the longer Dean spoke, now looked dangerously close to tears. “Then what am I, Dean? I...please, I need to know, I need you to tell me, because I don’t...I can’t...”

Everything, Dean thought fiercely; you’re everything. Fuck, he just needed to find some way to actually say it…

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: maybe, if saying it out loud was too much...He closed his eyes and started praying. Cas?

He felt a slight shift of the mattress as Cas stiffened in attention. “Dean?” he asked, hesitantly.

Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you. Dean kept his eyes closed, responding in his head. Question is, can you hear me?

A beat of silence; then: “Yes. I can hear you.”

Dean let out a steady breath. Okay. Okay, good. ’Cause there’s something I need you know, but...He tried to finish the thought; damn it, he tried, but even like this, he just couldn’t fucking seem to—

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder; his eyes fluttered open to see Cas leaning forward into his space, looking at him with soft understanding. “There’s something you need me to know,” Cas repeated slowly, “but you’re not sure how to say it.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “You...you got that part, too?”

Cas nodded. “The way it works...It’s difficult to explain in human terms. Prayers are something I hear and see and feel, all at once, and they don’t have to be words. They can be feelings or images or—”

“Memories?” Dean sat up straight, an idea forming. “Does it work with memories?”

Cas’s brow furrowed in apparent confusion, but eventually, he nodded. “Yes. If you show them to me.”

Dean didn’t waste another moment—he couldn’t, or he might lose his nerve. He closed his eyes and resumed his prayer. Okay, Cas, listen up...

He was pulling Cas’s trench coat out of the reservoir after the Leviathans had walked Cas into it, and the feeling in his gut...Dean knew it was grief. He’d lost friends before; hell, he’d lost Sam before, but this...this felt different...

But the Leviathans were on the loose, and the wall blocking out Sam’s Hell trauma had crumbled, and Dean didn’t have time to let himself stop and think. He folded the trench coat and stowed it in Baby’s trunk.

Months later, he was talking to Cas in an abandoned hangar the night before they stormed Sucrocorp and went after Dick Roman. Cas was saying he should stay behind, told Dean he wasn’t good luck and would just get in the way, but Dean wasn't having it. He’d done life without Cas, and it had sucked. Now, he knew he’d rather have him, cursed or not, friend or...He’d rather have him.

He only told Cas the first part, though.

Then, after, when he was tearing through Purgatory for over a year, Dean realized it wasn’t that he’d rather have Cas—it was that he couldn’t imagine not having him. He was going to find Cas no matter the cost, wasn’t leaving Purgatory without him. Cas was...he wasn’t something Dean couldn’t stand to lose.

And then Dean lost him anyway.

Dean was back topside, and Cas was still in Purgatory because Dean had failed to save him. The knowledge haunted Dean; he saw Cas everywhere, was sure he was hallucinating...until it turned out he wasn’t. And then he learned that Cas had made the conscious choice to stay behind, because apparently, Dean was something he could stand to lose, and that knowledge hurt in a way Dean didn’t have words for.

So they didn’t talk about it.

Then Dean was kneeling, bloodied, in Lucifer’s crypt, Cas standing over him with his angel blade raised. And Dean didn’t know what was going on, but he knew, he knew, that this wasn’t his Cas. His Cas. The words were loud in his mind, and he was both awed and terrified of how right they felt. He needed Cas, and he told him so...and Cas’s angel blade fell to the floor.

They didn’t talk about that much, either.

Years went by, and now Dean was the one standing over a bloodied, crumpled Cas, the Mark of Cain burning on his arm and Cas’s stolen blade in hand. He needed to hurt Cas, or for Cas to hurt him, to fight back and end the goddamn constant screaming in Dean’s head that was all blood and rage and hate and—Cas’s hand came up to gently clasp Dean’s wrist. “No, Dean...please.” And for a second, just a second, the hate in Dean’s mind was quiet, and in its place, strong, surging, and undeniable, was—

Dean stabbed the book next to Cas’s head and walked away.

Next, he was standing in a barn with his mom and Sam and Crowley, watching in terrified helplessness as Cas writhed in agony on an old couch. Ramiel could come for them at any moment, and yet all Dean could think about was the intensity in Cas’s eyes as Cas told him, told all of them, that he loved them, and fuck, Dean loved him, too, but not the familial sort of love that Cas seemed to be getting at, no. Dean loved him in a raw, real sense that he felt in his bones and that scared him half out of his mind, and he wanted to say it; but then Cas was convulsing, and it was too late…

Then Crowley snapped Ramiel’s spear, and Cas was saved, and Dean told himself that enough was enough, he needed to get his shit together and find some way to tell Cas what he felt before—

He was kneeling, silent, on the shore of a lake. The sky was starless overhead, and Cas was dead on the ground in front of him, wings scorched against the sand. And Dean was aching and empty, hollowed out by grief and regret, because he’d waited too long, and now it was too late…

And then he was dead, or something like it. He was in Death’s library and Billie was showing him the shelf of books with his name on the cover, detailing all the possible ways he could die, and Dean should have felt fear, should have felt fight, but instead, all he felt was finally. He hadn’t been able to save the people he loved, hadn’t been able to save Cas, so what was the point of going back? Sam would be better off without him, would get a shot at the normal life he’d always wanted. Billie could toss Dean in the Empty; he didn’t care anymore. Hell, he wanted it, anything to end all his goddamn regret—

But Billie sent him back anyway, and later that night, Dean’s phone rang.

Cas was back. He was alive and he was back, and fuck, he was so much more than Dean deserved. And Dean told himself that he was okay with that, with not having Cas in the way that he wanted, as long as he had him in some way, shape, or form. But then Jack killed Mary, and Dean...he was so angry and hurt that he lashed out at Cas, said horrible things he didn’t mean but didn’t know how to take back once they were out, and he couldn’t even look at Cas without wanting to scream and break and beg for forgiveness. He watched as Cas left him after they fought, left him like everyone else did, and Dean let him, because he knew now that needing someone wasn’t the same as deserving them.

Then they were back in Purgatory after a botched attempt at securing a Leviathan Blossom. They’d been ambushed, and Dean had been knocked out, had woken up alone with Cas nowhere in sight and limited time to make it back. And Dean knew he still didn’t deserve Cas, but he prayed to him anyway. He told Cas about the hurt and the anger and the helplessness he felt when it took hold of him, and he was sorry, God, he was so fucking sorry…

When he found Cas at the last moment at the base of a tree, he wanted...he needed to tell Cas what he hadn’t had the nerve to say in his prayer, because it was so much more than of course I forgive you; it was please forgive me, I know I don’t fucking deserve you but I want you, I need you, I love you…

But they had to go, because as always, there was never enough fucking time.

And then they were trapped in the Bunker’s interrogation room as Billie pounded on the door. Cas was going to die, and it was Dean’s fault, again it was his fault, because he’d screwed up, because he’d been stupid and angry and that was all he knew how to be—

But then Cas was talking with tears in his eyes, and each word was its own revelation, because Cas was looking at him the way Dean had never in a million years thought to be worthy of. And Dean forgot how to breathe, because suddenly, Cas was saying it, he said it: “I love you…”

And then the Empty took him, and Billie, and Dean was left alone on the floor. He was dimly aware of the way Sam’s name flashed on his phone, but he couldn’t answer, because then he’d have to explain, and…and...

Dean cradled his head in his hands and sobbed. He felt like his entire soul had been lit on fire and that every word he’d ever known had been ripped out of him by the roots, all except for the two he murmured, strangled and broken, into the silence: “Me too...”

Dean gasped and ended the prayer. He opened his eyes and felt tears roll down his cheeks; he hadn’t noticed them forming while he’d been praying, and he was about to reach up to dash them away when he saw that Cas’s face was wet with tears of his own; he looked more wrecked than Dean had ever seen him, and the hand he’d kept on Dean’s shoulder throughout the prayer had started to tremble. “Dean, I—”

“Look,” Dean said shakily, because if he didn’t say this now, he didn’t know if he ever could. “I...I know you said happiness isn't really in the having and all that, but...well, I think maybe it is. For me, anyway. Because Cas, if there’s one thing I’ve learned after all the crap we’ve been through, it’s that my life ain’t happy if it doesn’t have you in it.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and pushed on: “You said you thought you couldn’t have me, but the thing is, you’ve had me for years. And I just...I need you to hear me, I need you to know…” He almost stopped then, almost couldn’t go on, because the look of absolute love in Cas’s eyes was overwhelming, and Dean could no more deny it than he could give up breathing. He raised his hand, placed it firmly on top of the one on his shoulder, and squeezed. “You changed me too, Cas.”

Then Cas was kissing him, and Dean let out a muffled sob of relief as he felt Cas’s hands wrap around his middle and pull them flush against one another. His grip was hot and desperate on Dean’s back, and the way his mouth moved against Dean’s made Dean feel as though he were going to burst into millions of joyous pieces. He tangled his hands in Cas’s hair and kissed him hard, tugging him backward until Cas was straddling him on the mattress, his solid, unyielding weight a blissful, dizzying contrast to the lightness Dean felt in his mind as Cas’s tongue slid surely over his own, ravishing and reverent and real. They were real, and they always had been.

And Dean would never, ever doubt that again.

[deanstead]

Family Don’t Start With Blood

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Request by anon: Could you do a Sam x daughter!reader where they found her as a baby but she was half demon so they took her in to try and be good and she grows up with them and stuff and then I’m season 15 instead of Cas going to the empty it’s her going (bc she’s half demon) where they find Ruby and Ruby admits to the reader that she’s her mother and Sams her father

Warnings: none

A/N: This was a specific request so I decided to give it a go. I apologise if there’s any mistakes! Hit me up in my ask and let me know what you think – should I continue to write Winchester!Daughter fics? That said, this is based off of 15x13 and I do hope you like what I did with it! Taglists are open, as are requests!

---

Sam turned slightly to look at you, where you had fallen asleep in the back of the Impala and smiled.

“Kid’s pooped.” Dean commented and Sam smiled. “Technically she’s only what… 11?” Sam said with a smile, looking back out the window, as Dean looked in the mirror and turned the music down.

Sam still remembered that day about 11 years ago, when he had first found you – just a baby wrapped in a thin blanket. It took a little less than a minute of you laying in his arms before you had Sam wrapped around your tiny fingers.

At best, Dean had been hesitant, the hesitation only growing when they realised you were half-demon. Sam glanced at Dean who had his eyes fixed on the road, remembering the many arguments that they had had - about bringing you up to be good and Sam’s own insistence that you were half human and could be good. When Sam finally managed to convince Dean to carry you in his arms, you had looked up at him, grabbed his finger and Dean had stopped arguing altogether.

You had spent the next 11 years growing under the watchful eyes of the Winchesters. You didn’t present like a normal 11-year-old child, growing rapidly, both physically and mentally and Sam had finally relented a few years back, allowing you to go on hunts with them. Which, as Dean constantly reminded him, had saved their skins more than once.

You whined a little as Dean went over a hump and Sam turned to glance at you again as you shifted in your sleep. “Sorry kid.” Dean whispered, an affectionate smile on his face as he glanced at you through the mirror.

Sam smiled. “Crazy, huh?”

Dean glanced at Sam. “You know if Dad was here, he’d whoop our asses.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, it took you all of two seconds to love that girl.”

“Shut up.”

Sam chuckled, readjusting himself on the seat, taking one last look back at you, the feeling of pride that was blossoming in his chest was one that only a father could have. You’d made both of them proud - the way you could tell right from wrong as easily as breathing, sometimes even steering both of them on the right path when they wavered.

---

You had been brought up like a daughter under Sam and Dean, but you always knew it was out of the goodness of their hearts that they had taken you in, so you were always careful about making the right decisions. You had always called them by their names, and no one talked about what you all were to each other – you just knew you were family, and you loved each other.

As you were growing up, you had an unmistakable connection to Sam that you couldn’t really explain. Dean was just as protective over you and you knew he loved you under his gruff exterior but there was just something that made you naturally closer to Sam.

You looked up as you heard voices talking, getting up and peeping out from your room. You could hear it in Dean’s voice and it wasn’t good.

“We’ll deal with them but right now, you and me, we gotta go to Hell.” Dean’s voice travelled down the corridor.

You froze as you heard Castiel’s voice, “Woah. You do?”

“Jo said that’s where Ruby stashed the Occultum.” Sam explained.

You stood a little distance away but you could hear everything they were saying. “Ruby? The demon you were sexually intimate with?”

Your eyebrows shot up as you heard the disdain in Dean’s voice. “Sexually intimate?”

You didn’t like where this conversation was leading though, as you listened to Cas try to convince Sam and Dean that going to Hell wasn’t a good idea.

“We have to work with what we have. So we’ll go to Hell, you stay topside and keep that spell alive so we get back, alright?” Dean snapped, turning but freezing in his tracks when he saw you. “Hey kid.”

“Y/N?” Sam stepped out of the room they had been in.

Your expression must have betrayed you because Sam stepped towards you.

“Isn’t that too dangerous?” You asked, your eyes darting from Sam to Dean and back again.

Sam didn’t answer your question directly. “As long as the spell is kept alive here, Dean and I will be able to come back. No problems, okay?” he bent to look you in the eye.

You knew this was important. “Okay.” Your voice came out as a whisper.

As Sam straightened up, you looked up again. “Sam.”

You paused as he looked back down at you. “Be safe.” You whispered. Sam smiled and reached down to hug you. “You take care of things here, okay?”

You nodded before looking at Dean. “Don’t worry, kid.” Dean said, as he gave you a tight hug. “We’ll be right back.”

---

You sat with Castiel in the library, staring at the bowl that contained the spell that was Sam and Dean’s ticket back.

“So they made it? Sam and Dean are in hell?” Jack asked as he walked in.

You didn’t answer but Castiel spoke, “Yeah.” He paused. “There are too many holes in Jo’s story. Who was Ruby going to sell the Occultum to? Why didn’t Jo try to get it back?”

Your eyes flicked up now. “You think she’s lying?”

Castiel sighed, “I think we need to ask Ruby.”

“She’s dead.” Jack stated, confusion etched across his face.

“In the Empty.” Castiel clarified. “I need your assistance. Both of you.”

“Sure, anything.” Jack responded, as you knew he would.

Castiel stood, “I need you to kill me. Almost.”

“Wait.” You stopped him.

Castiel put a hand up. “Listen, if I’m at death’s brink, I should be able to put one foot in the afterlife and contact Ruby.”

Jack frowned and glanced at you. “Cas, the Empty doesn’t exactly like you, remember?”

“I’ll go.” You said, interrupting the conversation.

Castiel frowned at you. “No.”

“I’m half-demon, the same spell will get me to the same place. I’m a new face, the Empty doesn’t have a beef with me, and me being half-demon might be advantageous when I talk to this Ruby.”

Castiel hesitated, glancing at Jack.

“Besides, it’s safer that you’re here. What if you go and Jack and I can’t bring you back?” You argued. “If you’re here, I know that you’ll definitely be able to bring me back. Come on, Cas.”

Castiel looked at your determined expression and he knew that you were right.

“If this will help Sam and Dean, I’m doing it.” You stressed.

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, looking from you to Castiel.

Castiel glanced at you again and you nodded at him.

“You have one hour. That’s it.” Castiel said, looking slightly worried.

You nodded at him before turning to Jack. Jack hesitated but touched your forehead and you felt the breath knocked out of you, your life force being drained into a flask that he was holding out in front of you. The last thing you saw was Jack’s worried face before your eyes fluttered shut.

---

You found yourself surrounded by darkness. Utter pitch black. You could even feel your human half squirming.  

“Ruby? Ruby? Can you hear me?” You called out, taking a few steps forward. You weren’t even sure if any of your powers would work here.

“Hello. You’re a new face.” A voice came out of the darkness and you spun around defensively.

A woman sitting on a chair facing you. “Why are you stomping around here looking for Ruby?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m here to fulfil a request ordered by Death.” You paused, narrowing your eyes slightly. “Are you the Empty?”

She let out a smile. “Oh, a smart one. Now, tell me. Why should I help you?”

You took another step forward. “I understand you and Death are working together.”

She sighed dramatically before pointing. You turned to see a ball of light, before it enlarged and a young woman took its place.

“Ruby?” You ventured, moving towards the new appearance.

She looked confused as she looked around before looking at you. “Where am I?”

“You’re dead.” You stated matter of factly.

Ruby’s eyes grazed over you and it bothered you that she seemed to be sizing you up. “I remember.” She finally said, “Are you?”

You shrugged, “Almost, I guess.” A beat of silence passed between the two of you. “Ruby, I’m looking for an object known as the Occultum. The angel Jo said that you hid it somewhere in Hell.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Did she? That is so like her. Don’t you think it’s a little obvious for a demon to be hiding something in Hell?”

“I wouldn’t know.” You said, squinting your eyes at her. “Sam and Dean are searching there now.”

Her expression softened, “Oh, Sam. How is the big lug? I liked him.” Unconsciously, a low growl rose in your throat. “We had a good thing, until…”

Ruby paused. “Are you… You are, aren’t you?”

“What?” You snapped, your patience wearing thin.

“You’re half-demon aren’t you? You’re her.”

You froze. “You know me?”

Ruby looked at you. “Oh, you must be her. Sam must have found you. I’m glad he took you in, that’s so typical Sam.” You growled a little, getting annoyed.

“How do you know me?” You asked again, wary.

“Why, honey, don’t you recognise your mother?” Ruby drawled, a small smile playing on her lips.

If you had been holding something, you would have dropped it.

Your mouth opened but no sound came out as the conversation you had overheard this morning played in your head like a broken recorder.

Ruby? The demon you were sexually intimate with?

You looked at Ruby again and she answered the question you didn’t ask, “Yeah, honey, Sam’s your father.”

You swallowed, processing the information. You didn’t have a lot of time left in the Empty, you needed to get the information you came for.

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. Can we just…” You tore your eyes away from the woman, the demon, that had just dropped a bombshell on you, and pressed further. “When you went to Jo about the Occultum…”

“When I went to see her?” Ruby’s voice was scathing now and you looked back up. “She called me.” You listened, an uneasy feeling forming in your gut as you listened to Ruby give her account of what had really happened, how Jo had asked to see her, pitching her the idea to be in the safest place anyone could be in when Michael and Lucifer battled it out – the Occultum.

“It’s a place?” You asked incredulously.

Ruby looked straight at you. “Whatever you want to call it, it’s powerful. Anyway, we had a deal so I stashed it. I can tell you the location. But it’s definitely not in Hell.”

You tried to ignore the voice screaming in your head that Sam and Dean were in hell for nothing, stashing away the desire to kill Jo. “Does Jo know where it is?”

Ruby let out a dry laugh. “As if she could be trusted. But you can trust me.”

It was your turn to let out a laugh. “Because you’re my mother?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Because I want a deal.” She paused. “I’ll help you on one condition. Get me the hell out of here.”

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“This place is full of sorrow and despair, playing over and over again.” Ruby spat.

You looked back at her helplessly. “There’s no way I can…”

“You’re connected. I bet Sam, Dean, Castiel, they’re all waiting for you at the other end. I just need you to try.”

You needed to get the information from her before time ran out. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Ruby leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

---

Jack cast a look at Cas, his eyes moving towards your limp form at the table before looking back at the bowl containing the spell that was Sam and Dean’s ticket back here. Just then, a whooshing sound signaled their return.

“Guys, you’re back!” Jack called as their eyes fell on your limp form.

“Jack? Cas? What the hell?” Dean stepped forward, his eyes trained on you.

“Y/N? Honey?” Sam was kneeling next to you. “She’s cold. What’s going on?”

Jack looked at them. “She’s dead… kind of.”

Dean looked worriedly at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” Sam spat.

Castiel stood. “The Occultum isn’t in Hell.”

Dean didn’t say anything but swung his head to Jack.

“Y/N went to the Empty. Hopefully... To find Ruby. Hopefully... To find out where this Occultum thing is located.” Jack frowned. “Hopefully...”

“That’s way too many hopefullys!” Sam raised his voice as Dean looked back at Castiel.

“Bring her back. Now!”

---

When Ruby pulled away, you studied her.

“But it’s true, what you said?” You asked. Ruby rolled her eyes. “I told you, you could trust me.”

You shook your head. “I meant what you said about… me…” Your voice trailed off.

Ruby smiled. “Oh darling, that is definitely true. I made sure Sam would find you. But the rest? That’s all him.”

With that, Ruby quietly disappeared into the darkness, smiling at you.

“Hey.” The Empty was back now. “Now, my turn.”

Your stomach did a nervous flip. You were now pretty sure none of your abilities would work here.

“You don’t get to come traipsing in as and when you like, so take this as a little punishment.” She fisted her hand into a ball and you felt a pain surge through your body, as if someone was squeezing your heart and your whole body.

You groaned, sinking to your knees.

---

Castiel glanced at Dean again. “Now, Cas!” He raised his voice.

Castiel nodded at Jack, who quickly picked up the flask, unscrewing it and holding it close to you, letting the lifeforce seep back into your body.

Dean watched helplessly as Sam tightened his hold on your arm.

Your eyes snapped open as you took a deep shuddering breath, coughing. You could still feel the lingering pain from the Empty’s hold on you.

“Y/N!” Sam called out, as you swiveled your eyes towards him, his face hovering above you – your father. Your actual father.

Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re back.” You breathed, smiling at them.

“Are you crazy Y/N? What if this hadn’t worked?” Dean asked, staring straight at you like he did when you used to get in trouble. You looked at Sam whose worried expression was now being replaced with one of slight annoyance.

“But it did.” You stubbornly said. “I’d do it again.”

“You could have gotten yourself killed.” Sam said, causing you to fall back into silence.

You crossed your arms. “The Occultum was never in Hell.”

“We would have told you that if you had waited for us.” Sam said.

You shook your head continuing, “It’s apparently the safest place in the world. And I got the location.” You stared back defiantly at both of them. 

“It’s a place?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Yeah.” You said. “Am I still crazy?” You asked, looking between both of them.

“Yes.” They both said in unison.

You rolled your eyes.

“Before we go, we need to talk.” Sam said, his stern voice telling you there was no room for argument.

You sighed and nodded. Sam looked at Dean who nodded at him. “We’ll find a way. Go.”

Sam stalked back towards your room, as you followed close behind.

“What were you going to do if you got stuck there?” Sam asked. “Y/N, I told you to think before you react. Always!” You could hear the genuine worry in his voice.

You didn’t respond immediately, just stepped forward and looped your arms around his torso, hugging him.

“I’m sorry…” You let a beat of silence pass before you said it, “Dad.”

You felt Sam freeze before he pulled away gently so that he could look at you. A small frown crossed his face. “Thought you didn’t like calling us that.”

You shrugged. “I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

You turned away. “I met Ruby.”

The thoughts you had pushed aside earlier were flooding your mind now. Sam and Dean had taken you in without knowing anything, without knowing who you were, where you came from and it was by sheer dumb luck that you had found out that Sam was your father. Your actual father. With that thought, a warmth spread in your chest.

Over the years, you had had your doubts about yourself. Sam always stressed that you were half human and that the human side of you could always choose to do the right thing. But you were never really sure, until now. You now knew why your human side could do the right thing, because your human side had come from Sam.

“Y/N?” Sam asked, you could hear him moving closer.

You turned around to face him. “She told me. About the both of you.” A look of knowing crossed Sam’s face. “That’s where I came from.” You whispered.

A look of shock crossed Sam’s face. “What?”

You frowned a little, trying to read his expression. “You don’t believe her?” You asked.

Sam shook his head. “No, I… I didn’t know.” He paused. “I think I finally understand the connection.” He smiled. 

“Ruby wouldn’t lie from where she is. There’s no reason to.” Sam reassured you. 

“Even if it’s a lie, is it wrong to want to believe in it?” You asked, dragging your eyes up to Sam’s.

“I believe it.” Sam whispered, bending down to give you a hug.

The one thing you knew for sure was that Sam had seen you as a daughter long before he knew you were his blood. Blood or not, he had loved you and that thought alone brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m glad it was you who found me.” You whispered. “Back then, when I was a baby... I’m glad it was you.”

Sam smiled back at you, affectionately tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Can I call you that?” You asked.

Sam smiled. “You can call me whatever you want.”

You nodded, “Thanks,” Reaching forward for him again, you whispered, “Dad.”

---

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