#and then he PERSONALLY REBUILDS Dean's human form and OH NO. THAT FORM IS HOT TOO

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

hc that since we know Dean DID torture souls his first time in Hell, the first time Cas saw him he was in his full/true Deanmon form.

...gold, glitter, bioluminescent freckles, black eyes with fiery green centers, huge golden horns, fins, fur, spikes, long twitchy tail and all

rly who WOULDNT fall in love with that.

(also imagining Cas arriving to Grip Dean Tight And Raise Him From Perdition but finding Dean backed up against the wall of whatever Hell dungeon they were keeping him in, on all fours with his ears back and fur fluffed up, hissing at Cas like a stray kitten that doesn't know its being rescued)

[headcanonfantasy]

Apple Pie life with an Angel, a new God and a dog-A Destiel fic

“I love you.” Castiel struggled as Dean began to cry angrily.

“Don’t do this Cas.” Dean whimpered as he ran to Cas. Cas pushed him away.

“Goodbye, Dean.” Cas started as the Empty began to pour in.

“NO!” Dean roared out as he ran to Cas. “Don’t do this, not without me. You changed me just as much as I did you, Cas. I need you. I want nothing more than to be with you. You leave me, I have NOTHING, Cas.” Dean touched his forehead as tears streamed harder down his face. “I love you.” Dean then kissed Cas deeply, Cas struggling to push Dean away, but Dean was too strong as he held onto his trenchcoat, the Empty coating the both of them in its goo as both men were sucked into the Empty together, Dean never letting go. As they disappeared in tar-like ooze, the only sound in the dungeon was Sam calling Dean’s phone.

..............................................................................................................................

Sam found it hard to sleep, as did Jack. The two men found it hard to cope.

“Without Dean and Cas, we’re sunk. Do you know where we can find Amara? We could use her help.” Sam said as he drank a beer.

“We could also use Dad’s help. He was right about Grandpa to begin with.” Jack said.

“That’s true.” Sam replied. Suddenly, Dean’s phone was calling and Lucifer, once again in Cas’s body, appeared.

“So, dear old Daddy’s been screwing with the world?” Lucifer asked.

“Cas?” Sam asked confused.

“Funny, Sammy. You forget you beat me the last time we met when I was possessing your brother’s Angel of the morning?” Lucifer reminded.

“Right, I forgot. Hello, Lucifer. You got any ideas for beating Chuck?” Sam asked.

“Sure. Hey, I was able to save a dog for Deano, heard ol’ Cassie went into the Empty. Or if Dean went in with him, Jack needs a pet.” Lucifer said. “Really is a miracle. Just found him outside a gas station. Keeping him safe from Dad, but I’ll be sure to ask Aunt Amara when I see her IF he finds us and snuffs the pupper out, to let me take away his grace.”

“Why are you helping us?” Sam asked.

“Is that Dad? I wanna talk to him, knowing how to smite Grandpa. Maybe he has an idea.” Jack offered.

“Jack wants to talk.” Sam said.

“Great, I’ll bring the dog.” Lucifer said as he soon flew himself and the dog into the bunker. “A lot gloomier than I last saw it.” Lucifer quipped when he set the dog down.

“Dad, I see you’re in Cas’s form.” Jack noted.

“Yeah, when you die in one form, you tend to come back in that form afterwards. Like Nick before I possessed Vince Vincente and later Castiel. Sorry about your loss, by the way. But I think I have an idea. Our Aunt Amara has a bit of history with the Empty, yeah? They may be able to make a deal with her if I offer myself.” Lucifer said. Jack was surprised.

“Why?” Jack asked.

“Archangels and Nephilim have the power to take God’s place. You can do it, Jack. Because you’re the Nephilim of an Archangel, that’s why Dad fried you the first time.” Lucifer pointed out. “But first, we must consult our aunt.”

..............................................................................................................................

The Entity couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because once again, Cas couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because he didn’t have a reason to sleep and he happened to bring it with him. Maybe it was because that stowaway refused to unlatch himself from Cas and the men were stuck between moaning and giggling and yessing. It was very loud, very distracting and it felt like he was in Hell.

“Dean, that tickles.” Cas giggled.

“I can’t help it, you’re so ticklish, it makes me feel alive.” Dean purred as he kissed Cas’s chest. Cas moaned before arching his back as Dean stroked his groin. Dean crawled back up to Cas and they began to undress each other.

“Oh PLEASE stop.” The Entity begged as he pounded into the floor. “You’ve been drowning yourselves in each other’s pleasure and vice versa since you got here. You have GOT to stop sooner or later.” The Entity began to cry and plead.

“I’m not tired or hungry. What about you, Cas?” Dean asked.

“The only thing I’m hungry for is you, Dean.” Cas said as he nipped Dean’s ear.

“OOH, right there baby.” Dean said as he unbuttoned and unzipped Cas, making Cas whimper with extreme heat and began to slowly stroke the older Angel’s dick. Cas’s whimper soon turned into a gasp and a shout. The Entity pounded his head against a wall of the Empty a la Gordon Ramsay after Jason Underwood told him he was gonna try and make the souffles less sticky to the ramekin with butter, sugar and cocoa powder.

..............................................................................................................................

Once they had met with Amara, she heard pounding from the Empty. “The Empty should be sleeping. Funny, who’s keeping them awake?” Amara asked.

“Daddy’s favorite peeon and his Angel.” Lucifer said as he and Jack flew in.

“Dean’s in the Empty?” Amara was stunned. “No Human should ever BE in the Empty. How’s he surviving?” She asked.

“I don’t know, he latched onto Cas when it happened.” Sam said.

“Oh, Jack. I want to give you back your Grace.” Lucifer said as he cut Jack’s Grace out of him and Jack breathed it back in. Jack then closed Lucifer’s neck.

“Dad, you didn’t have to do that.” Jack said.

“You need more power, son. I never regretted bringing you to life. I was a crap father, but you’re an amazing person.” Jack and he hugged one last time as Amara went to the Empty.

..............................................................................................................................

“Oh God, baby. Yes. Yes, YES DEAN YES HARDER MORE! YESDEANYESGODDEANYES!” Cas was howling into darkness as Dean thrusted hard, hitting the Angel’s prostate. The Entity just continued to pound his head against the wall. Suddenly, Amara appeared.

“Are you here to take the sexfiends?” The Entity asked, eyes bloodshot.

“Are you willing to trade?” Amara asked.

“Who would I like?” The Entity asked,

..............................................................................................................................

When Amara came back, Dean and Cas were barely dressed and still attached to each other.

“Dude, seriously?” Sam groaned as he watched his brother exchange spit with Cas.

“Shut up, I don’t complain when you kiss Eileen.” Dean said as he went back to kissing Cas.

“I get that, your fly though, Dean. Your fly is open.” Sam sighed as he covered Jack’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Amara didn’t have time to let us dress before the deal to take Lucifer in our stead was taken by the Empty.” Cas said as he zipped himself up, Dean following suit.

“Good to have you back, but I never wanna see that much of you again.” Sam said as he patted Dean on the back and then hugged him, then hugged Cas. “Otherwise, welcome home, guys.”

“Great to be back.” Dean said as he kissed Cas deeply.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Amara said lovingly. “Can we go find my brother?”

“Oh sure.” Dean said as he pulled away from Cas and they all headed out to Chuck.

..............................................................................................................................

Amara cuffed Chuck with Enochian handcuffs and Dean kicked him in the nuts. Finally, Jack touched Chuck’s head and all of Chuck’s powers were absorbed into Jack.

“What?” Chuck asked as he gasped. “But how?”

“I got some help from the one son who was right to never listen to you.” Jack said as he finished sucking all of Chuck’s powers and absorbing it into his system.

..............................................................................................................................

After all was said and done, Jack joined with Amara. She’d guide him on how to rebuild Heaven. Before he left though, he gifted Dean and Cas the dog. “Dad wanted you to have him. His name’s Miracle. Dad said it was a miracle Grandpa had missed the sweetcake.” Jack said as he handed Miracle off to the two.

“After years of the ‘No dogs in the Impala’ rule?” Dean asked. “I’m honored to own him.” Dean said. Cas smiled and kissed the dog before kissing Dean softly in turn.

“Where will you go now?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinking a farm somewhere. Or maybe a nice home in a cul de sac. Or even a cabin in the woods?” Dean asked as he looked Cas in the eyes.

“I hear the barn we first met in is being condemned.” Cas said. “We may buy the property and build a nice acreage where I can keep an apiary and Dean can start a garage.” Cas offered. “Maybe I can even grow peanuts and make my own peanut butter.” Just as he said that, Jack gave Cas the gift of Human feelings for food and such, not needing to give him love as Dean had already taught him how to love. Another thing he did before leaving for Heaven was what Amara had done for Dean.

“Sam?” Sam’s eyes widened as he turned and faced the truest love of his life.

“Oh my God, Jess?” Sam gasped.

“Whoa, what year is this? Last thing I knew, I was making cookies when-God, what happened to you?” Jess asked.

“It’s a long story.” Sam said as he hugged her tightly.

I missed you too.” Jess said as she hugged him back. Then, Sam immediately began to kiss her as deeply as Dean was doing Cas when they left the Empty.

“Let’s beat them in our own game by joining in.” Dean said as he pulled Cas in for another kiss.

..............................................................................................................................

The house was amazing. Everything Dean had wanted, a back yard for Miracle and Cas loved the peanut grinder and apiary Dean had set up for him. Especially with the tap so as not to disturb the bees.

“Try my honey roasted peanut butter burgers.” Cas said when Sam and Jess visited them. “Dean makes his own brioche and it’s amazing.”

“He thinks everything I do is amazing. He makes his own jelly though.” Dean said. “I’m telling you, ever since Cas has been able to taste? His pallet makes me purr.” Dean said as he kissed Cas deep, but chaste.

“You make me blush.” Cas said as he touched Dean’s forehead with his own.

“Imagine if that girls’ school managed to find out you’re officially canon.” Sam began to tease. “The musical they’d be making out of that.” Jess punched Sam’s arm.

“Now now, baby. Don’t tease.” Jess said.

“Brothers are supposed to tease each other, Jessie. Don’t worry, it’s a Winchester family tradition.” Sam said.

“Pranks and teasing.” Dean confirmed. “Hot dogs are up.” Dean said as he put them on a plate after cooking them on a grill. Miracle whined as he smelled the hot dogs and Dean threw one to the dog. “There you go, Miracle.” He said.

“Apple pie life really suits you, Dean.” Jess said.

“Thanks, Jess. Congratulations on the baby, by the way. I can’t wait to be an uncle.” Dean said with a smile.

“Thanks, Dean.” Jess said as she hugged him.

Life was sweet. Not just because of the burgers either.

..............................................................................................................................

When Sam and Jess had left, Cas was cleaning up and putting food away. Dean had decided to help after cleaning the grill. However, his help was beyond drying while Cas washed.

“I missed cuddling with you this morning.” Dean said. “I bought you more pectin for your next batch of Blackberry jam you like to make so much.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Dean.” Cas said as he got lost in washing the dishes. Once they finished washing and drying, Dean pulled him into a dance, putting on a song they first listened to when they officially moved into their new home.

“But I can see how strong a man I’m gonna have to be to do for you what comes so naturally, it’s in the way you move.” Dean softly sang to Cas as he twirled the love of his life around the living room floor. Cas giggled giddily.

“Dean, why so sappy today?” Cas asked when they took a break.

“Cas, to finally let you know after all this time how much you mean to me? I thought I was gonna lose you and with Jack visiting on occasion, I feel we should have a more official title to what we are.” Dean said as he knelt down and pulled out a box. Inside was a honeybee shaped ring with stripes of Citron and Obsidian and Diamond eyes and wings. Cas was in awe at the look of it once Dean opened the box.

“Castiel, I come to you as a man, no more or less, with the hope that I can take your hand in marriage and we can make each other honest men until death parts us.” Dean said as he handed Cas the ring box.

“Oh Dean, it’s beautiful. It had to have cost a forturne.” Cas said.

“Not at all. I know an expert jeweler in town, he was able to get the materials together for the occasion.” Both men began to cry. “Will you marry me, Castiel?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” Cas said as Dean took the ring out of the box and put it on Cas’s hand, then they kissed deeply. They then spent the rest of the night celebrating in a lot of ways. Not only their engagement, but the start of what’s to come in their future.

The End

[theshopislocal]

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter seven

Dean remembers this place.

He’d only been here once before, some fifty odd years ago, but it’s etched into his memory so clearly, it might’ve been yesterday.

It’s a little different than the last time he was here. The forest is new - if it could even be called a forest; Dean’s counted twenty-three charred, spindly trees. They provide a sparse canopy, shrouding the old barn in speckled half-light. The facade is mostly unchanged, though the red paint is a little more chipped, the foundation brickwork more weathered than he recalls. And of course, the weather is mild, warm and bright, with none of the storm clouds Sam had mentioned.

The last time Dean was here, there’d been heavy wind and soaring sparks. Lightning.

Dean blows out a breath and cranes his head over his shoulder, peering at Baby where she’s parked at the dead end.

The road through the pass had been tortuous, winding across the mountain in steep slopes and sharp turns. Dean had ridden the clutch hard, one hand on the wheel, the other patting the dash - soothing Baby as she climbed the jagged hills. The descent had been slow and smooth; foot gentling the brake, he’d soared down the mountainside, and the vista rose before him like a sunrise.

Sam had undersold it. It wasn’t just miles of hayfields, it was a seemingly endless expanse of yellow and gold, trembling under the wind. In Heaven’s perfect visibility, there was no skyline at all - just the ever-reaching stretch of dry pastures, tapering off into the sky a thousand miles out.

And in the distance, Dean had spotted the old barn in the little forest - a tiny black scar on the gilded plain.

As he’d approached, the highway had run rougher, the smooth black pavement giving way to dusty gravel. He’d sped along the dirt road a little faster than he rightfully should have, and he’d smoothed his hands over Baby’s steering column, promising her a tuneup when they got home.

The road had ended in a quaint little cul-de-sac, maybe ten yards from the barn. Dean had parked at the dead end, idling. He’d passed a short while with his hands clenched on the wheel, eyes squinted at the barn doors, arguing with the voices in his head - all of which sounded infinitely more reasonable than he himself.

All I could think about was chasin’ that storm... Personally, I’d just knock on their door... Got everything you thought you wanted... You’ll know it when you find it... If you’re looking for rain—

Dean had learned pretty quickly that any road in Heaven would take him to the main highway. And the main highway ends here, running afield a stone’s throw from the little forest, with its half-burnt trees and familiar old barn.

All roads lead—

Dean turns back to the towering doors. Before he can think better of it, he presses his weight against one side, nudging it ajar. It creaks something awful, and Dean winces at the sound, halting his movement.

There’s a short, pointed silence, and then a familiar noise from somewhere inside - a soft, airy flutter.

He squeezes his eyes shut, hands balling into fists.

Dean is a great many things, very few of them virtuous, but let it never be said he’s a coward. He presses his arm against the door and sidesteps through the narrow opening.

It’s dark and musty inside. The air hangs thick and humid, dust clouds swirling in the flickering light shafts. Dean squints then blinks hard, eyes falling to an illuminated spot on the ground.

The first thing he sees is spray paint.

White symbols litter the floor - some he recognizes, some he doesn’t, some he’d painted himself. His eyes catch on a sigil on the wall - a septagram done in dripping black paint. He remembers the feel of the brush in his hand, the drag of the bristles across the dry-rotted wall, the clench of his fingers around the grip as he painted the seven lines, awaiting the arrival of the next Big Bad.

His left arm had tingled at the bicep, hot and cold at the same time, buzzing along his nervous system like a shock. For an instant, he’d felt a constriction across his chest, a heavy weight at his back, as if someone were clutching him, holding him. Carrying him.

There’s a shifting movement at the far end of the room, and Dean’s eyes snap to it. The man standing there - no, not a man, something else, something else - makes a slow volte face.

A rusted metal light overhead flickers on, and the shadow recedes.

Dean sucks in a breath, throat constricting, and he nearly chokes on air. He gapes for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a damned fish, before he finally gets his tongue to cooperate.

“Hey, Cas,” he whispers, and fuck, it’s been so damn long since he last said those words. They feel dusty, cobwebbed in his mouth.

Cas - oh god, Cas - steps forward until his toes just cross the penumbra. He looks—

Dean’s throat goes tight again, his lungs compressing around his quick beating heart. Apropos of nothing, it occurs to him that his heart shouldn’t beat at all; he’s dead, after all.

He doesn’t feel dead right now.

Cas looks precisely as he had the day — I know how you see yourself — he died. The day he was taken by darkness, drained away — knowing you has changed me — for daring to feel, for allowing himself to have, for seeing and wanting and taking his own happin—

“Hello, Dean.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Dean stares, and Cas stares back. Dean’s not sure what expression he’s wearing; his whole damn face has gone numb, though he feels little beads of flop sweat forming at his hairline.

Cas, for his part, is staring placidly at Dean, gaze leveled somewhere around Dean’s nose. His eyes shine a deep limpid blue, pink-rimmed with pronounced bags underneath. He looks tired and a little grumpy, hair mussed and trench coat rumpled. His tie is loose, the skinny end dangling free of the keeper loop.

For the first time in forty years, the recursive whisper in Dean’s head is his own: It’s Cas, it’s Cas, it’s Cas, it’s C—

Dean swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “How ya doin’, bud?”

It’s a ridiculous question, somehow loaded and stupid at the same time. He’s not seen Cas in forty - forty - years. That’s as long as Dean’s human life. As long as he spent in the Pit. And ancient, eldritch, and celestial though Cas may be, Dean thinks that forty years rebuilding Heaven - forty years of radio silence - must be more than a blip on his radar.

“I am well,” Cas says flatly, and okay, so maybe Dean’s wrong. “Thank you.” Cas tips his head forward, eyes falling to the ground. “How are you?”

How... how is he?

Dean supposes he should’ve expected that; it’s not like it isn’t the first question everyone asks. Not like he didn’t just ask Cas himself.

I am well.

Something cold and hard forms in his stomach, and Dean shakes his head, eyes wide and unblinking, stuck to Cas’ like glue. “I’m good,” lie. “Yeah, I’m- I’m real good,” fucking lie. “You, uh...”

I am well.

Forty years, nearly half a damn century, and the sun beating down from a cloudless sky, and eaten alive by the Void, and spit back out again, and not a peep, not a word, not a goddamn whisper, save the ones in Dean’s stupid heart that shouldn’t beat anyway and he’s- Cas is—

Cas is well.

Something rises inside Dean, cresting in his throat like a tidal wave, and he speaks shortly, sharply, before he can think better of it. “Where the hell you been, man?”

Cas’ eyes flutter shut, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. “My work with- with the Arch is...” he trails off on a deep sigh, before glancing toward Dean’s face with arched eyebrows and hooded eyes, “...strenuous. Time-consuming.”

Dean huffs a brittle laugh and finally looks away. His eyes find the septagram again, and he grits his teeth. “That’s, uh,” another dry laugh, “that’s why I haven’t seen you in, what... forty years?”

He sees Cas bow his head in his peripheral vision. “Time is—”

“Different here, yeah,” Dean snorts.

He’s heard that one a few times, but it never quite rings true. They’d said the same thing about Hell, too; but Dean had felt every torturous second there, remembers them all in high-def technicolor, just as he remembers every bleak, desperate moment of his human life, just as he remembers the endless drive across Heaven, waiting for Sam to meet him at the bridge, sitting on his bench at the end of the pier, casting his line and never catching anything—

“I’ve been busy,” Cas grumbles, shoulders hunching.

Dean feels a broad, bitter smile crack his face like a fault line. “Busy,” he repeats, choking out a laugh.

Cas’ jaw goes taut, chin dropping to his chest. “Dean—”

“Busy?” Dean says again. His voice cracks a little, and he swallows hard, face warming in shame - or perhaps anger. Dean’s never been real good at telling one from the other.

Castiel steps further into the weak lamplight, all squared shoulders and downturned lips. “Jack has put a great deal of faith in me,” he grunts out, voice pitched just above a growl. “I have responsibilities, Dean.”

Dean’s head bounces in a nod, jittery with upset. He makes a broad gesture with shaking hands. “And you couldn’t have told me that sometime in the last—”

“I’m telling you now.”

Cas’ voice is low and flat, but bold, unyielding, with an almost imperceptible vein of irritation. He sounds much as he did when Dean first met him: driven and no-nonsense, all righteous fury and unshakable faith. Inhuman.

I dragged you out of Hell, he’d said - stood too close, eyes too blue. I can throw you back in.

“Ya know,” Dean says in a harsh whisper, “you don’t seem real happy to see me.”

Cas’ eyes fall closed at that, shoulders sagging low. His spine forms a desolate curve, and he finally meets Dean’s eye.

In the half-light, the hills and valleys of his face are shadowed, his eyes a murky ocean blue. He’s got that look he gets sometimes: sad but... bigger. Moved and helpless - like he’s watching a Greek tragedy unfold in real time.

And perhaps he is.

His lips part, dry and sticking together at the sides. “I am,” he breathes out, “happy to see you. Dean.”

Dean holds his gaze, and holds, and holds. His stomach still feels heavy, his chest hollow, temples throbbing with his erratic pulse, the ever-present headache a sharp point in the center of his forehead.

Just as his eyes start to sting - his vision going hazy at the edges - there’s a soft, tinkling sound from the other end of the barn. Wind chimes, Dean thinks. Corinthian bells.

Cas looks over his shoulder in the vague direction of the noise. Dean tracks his gaze to the two long work tables at the rear, cluttered with various odds and ends. He spots a mortar and pestle, a few little glass vials strewn haphazardly about, a couple candles, and a short stack of books. He recognizes the binding - the same as the ones in the Library.

The chimes play again, muted and strangely echo-less in the space, though Dean can’t see anything that could be producing the sound. More weird Heaven magic, he figures.

Cas turns back toward Dean, blank-faced and eyes downcast. “I’m needed elsewhere,” he murmurs, stepping backwards out of the pool of light. His shoulders shift strangely, spine going ramrod straight. It’s a familiar motion, though it takes Dean a minute to place why. It must be something close to fifty years since he last saw it - a weird little twitch, like something’s pulling at Cas from behind, like he’s counterbalancing a weight on his back—

Oh.

Realization dawns, and Dean’s jaw goes slack.

Cas got his wings back.

Cas can fly.

No sooner has Dean thought it than the arching stretch of a shadow blooms across the barn walls. It’s been years - decades - since Dean last saw them, and even then, they’d been painted in ash on the wet dirt, misshapen and sparsely feathered. But these - these are something else entirely.

Their shadow seems to fill the whole barn, distorting at the corners of the room where their sheer size forces the silhouette to bend. The feathers are pristine, all the peaks and divots at uniform intervals, their tips spanning clear across the side walls.

They’re huge and imposing, magnificent and a little terrifying. Awesome, Dean thinks, more literally than ever before.

The air catches in Dean’s throat, somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. “Cas,” he croaks.

Cas’ shoulders rise, and the winged shadows along with them. He hunches forward, knees bending slightly. Ready for takeoff.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, glancing off to the side.

Dean gets the sense he’s apologizing for more than just his imminent departure - and no, no, that isn’t why Dean’s here. He doesn’t want an apology; he’s not even angry - just a little bruised, and, really, when isn’t he? He can’t think of a single moment in his life - or his afterlife, for that matter - where nothing hurt, where nothing stung, where the ache in his chest didn’t prod at him with cold, blunt fingers.

He extends a hand toward Cas’ retreating figure, mouth tripping over his name, and the light overhead flickers out. He spares barely an instant to glance at it, and when he turns back, Cas is gone.

Cas is... gone.

Dean’s hand hangs in the air, callused fingertips reaching toward nothing. Without the lamplight, or the feathered shadows, or the humming, electric presence of an angel - of Cas - the barn is dark and just cold enough to draw Dean’s shoulders up.

His eyes squint, trying in vain to adjust to the darkness, and a headache pokes at the back of his skull. He’s sure his heart is still needlessly beating, but he doesn’t feel it anymore.

chapter six | chapter eight

table of contents