#a very minuscule part of Cas’ grace got left behind in her

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

Okay but like he’s dressed like Constantine and he kind of acts like him. So everyone is just like “oh my god Constantine had a child with an Angel!!!” And their all freaking out. And Constantine is trying to remember if he ever did actually sleep with an Angel, and now he’s just chasing after Danny trying to get answers!

Idea: Danny runs away after fighting Dan. Yes, he stopped that future, and yes, his friends and family are alive, but as long as he’s around they’re in danger! Danny’s ghost form is nothing but dangerous, he destroyed the entire world! So he breaks the portals (Vlad’s portal too) and runs, using a virus Tucker made to wipe all research and blueprints on ghostly stuff. Just like that, he disappears.

A couple years later, Nightingale is known among the occult community for specializing in Death. Dealing with all forms of the undead from ghosts to vampires, he will show up when there is a problem and leave once it’s solved with no method of contact inbetween. Few are as good as he is, not to mention how quickly he gained a name for himself.

The Justice League need his expertise. They weren’t expecting a depressed teenager.

[nightingalefeminist]

Freedom: a 15x03 Coda

Ok so, disclaimer... I love Dean but im very angry with him right now. Cas deserves better. If Dean realizes this and treats Cas how he deserves I might forgive him (aka the writers) but until then I don’t write happy destiel.

So just an FYI this is not a happy ending. Also excuse the tense shifts I’m horrible at using past perfect where it’s not appropriate but I can’t edit anymore!

__________________________

The heavy bunker door closing behind Cas echoed through the empty space. It reverberated through Dean’s mind and disturbed all the dangerous thoughts waiting for the excuse to escape.

It wasn’t like he treated Cas like shit! He treated him how he always did, like family dammit. But that son of a bitch had still walked. He’d abandoned them.

Dean tore through the books and artifacts on the closest shelf, throwing them to the floor as hard as he could. He waited for the embarrassment to sweep in like it did when he took a breath and saw what he’d done, but it didn’t come. Seeing the destruction only made him angrier and he grabbed a poker from the fireplace and smashed through a lamp on the table. Then he destroyed the shelf that he’d knocked the stuff from but the anger only turned to rage. That’s when he saw the angel statue sitting on the partition wall between the library and the entry hall. It was a woman in long robes but her black wings reminded him of Cas’s stretched out and burnt into the sand. He hefted the poker and beat the statue until he was sweating and shivering over a pile of dust.

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey a pulled from it for too long. The burn of alcohol twisted his insides.

No. Cas had abandoned them, his own family. After he’d gotten Mary and Jack and then Rowena killed. It was his fault they were dead. Wasn’t it? The guilt forced his thoughts back faster than he could wash them down with the bitter spirits. He knew something was off with Jack; a nagging at the back of his mind. Dean even said something to Sam about it a few days before Jack disappeared with their mom. Cas shared his worries but hadn’t said anything, why hadn’t he said anything?

You didn’t say anything either, his traitorous mind whispered to him through the fast-approaching whiskey blur. Then he remembered the look on Cas’s face when he said Cas was the problem, the reason for all of it going wrong, and his words finally bloomed ugly in his gut. The whiskey threatened to come back up but he swallowed hard and steadied himself on the table. He managed to keep his stomach in check but the tears came fast and hot.

______

The air outside the bunker was cool and it cleared Cas’s mind for the first time in days. He breathed in deep and was astonished that the emotional rising to the surface was relief.

There was sorrow below that and desperation too, but they were staying under the veil of numbness; it allowed him to recognize that he felt lighter outside of the walls, formally detached from the Winchester’s. When he thought of Sam he hesitated, he would miss him and would worry about him too, but Dean would take care of him. Sam was the only one Dean took care of.

Cas thought Dean was finally letting himself love and be loved by Cas. They’d started spending nights together, and Dean would sometimes talk to him, and sometimes make love to him. The first time had been years ago and Cas never felt such an attachment to anything before, they grew close and kept getting closer.

Then something happened.

Even looking back he didn’t know just what it was. Had it been subtle? Or was it a moment that snapped what they’d built like a twig? Cas supposed it didn’t matter, the end result was the same. For the past year or more Dean had become so distant it drove Cas to compulsion, trying to hold on to what they had. He told Dean he loved him one night in desperation.

The next night Dean came to him drunk and hungry, they ripped each other’s clothes off and pushed each other against the walls, growling their desires without inhibitions. It satisfied Cas until he woke up the next morning and Dean was gone, the first time he’d ever snuck out of his room. After that Dean came to him almost every night whenever they were in the bunker and he was almost always drunk. After a while Cas started to feel sick when Dean touched him while drunk, it was such a contrast to when Dean touched him with purpose and reverence. The rush he got at first in response to Dean’s hunger, it had come with the hope that Dean was letting him in. But soon Dean would come too drunk to make love to him and he’d ask Cas to fuck him instead. When Cas refused, sick off the smell of whiskey, Dean would leave angry and wouldn’t speak to him the next day.

When he told Dean that he loved him It was the truth, but as soon as he said it he knew it was all wrong. The way he said it. When he said it. Wrong, just like Dean had said. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get it right. At least this way, on his own, he’d only disappoint himself and no one else.

Against his better judgment Cas closed his eyes and concentrated on Dean, reaching through the space between them and listened intently. He didn’t hear anything. He only felt white hot anger and then deep, seeping guilt.

Cas shook his head and cut the connection, he should get rid of his grace, what use was it if his powers were failing anyway? He started walking down the road, taking out his angel blade while he looked up at the stars. Before he could think twice he found the grace’s pulse at the base of his throat and cut it out. The bright blue miasma slid from him and floated in the air a moment, waiting to be contained by something or stored away in another living thing. When Cas kept moving and left it behind him he felt it start to dissipate, scattered to the countless atoms that made up every minuscule part of the universe. He knew when the last of it finally melted into the night because it felt like a black hole, impossibly large for his vessel, opened up in the center of him.

All he ever wanted was to just be an angel; but with heaven failing and God as their enemy, it didn’t seem possible any more.

Even after the drunken, disturbed nights Cas thought his place was by Dean’s side. He felt like Dean might return his love some day. One day. Tonight Dean made it clear that Cas didn’t belong with them. He felt a sharp sadness but then the feeling dulled, just like that, and his path away felt right.