#and of course cas has been in and out of sam’s guts for years by this point so he’s like

[ardentpoop]

you know wincestiel threesome would’ve fixed cas btw. the only thing that could’ve done it.

[butch--dean]

Thinking about Dean during the Stanford era just before everything went down going to see Brokeback Mountain in theaters. He heard whispers about it but would deny that he knew anything about it if anyone had been around to ask. One night he sneaks into a theatre in a mid-sized town (not so big that it would be busy, not so small that he would stand out). He buys tickets for a different film and sneaks into a late-night showing, and makes sure to sit in the back so he can avoid the judgmental gaze of other patrons (they're not judging you, Dean, they're here for the same reason you are).

Thinking about Dean watching the slow-building yearning and the casual displays of intimacy and affection between Jack and Ennis during their summer ranching. Thinking about how they both go on to get married and have kids but continue to feel so deeply dissatisfied with their lives. Thinking about their reunion 4 years later and a kiss so frenzied that it bruised their noses. Thinking about twenty years of back-and-forth, of yearning for something one of them is too afraid of have. Thinking about the heartbreak of “I wish I knew how to quit you” and “sometimes I miss you so much I can’t hardly stand it” and "it's because of you, Jack, that I'm like this," and "there ain't ever enough time." Thinking about Dean silently breaking down during Ennis' call to Jack's widow, and again when he enters the closet of his lover's childhood bedroom to find a relic of their relationship, hidden away in a dark corner. Private. Loved.

When Dean left the theatre, he was a changed person - heartbroken for something that, in that very moment, he couldn't name within himself. I think that he carries the story with him throughout the series. Eventually, he is able to name that heartbreak - of loving someone so completely but never being able to say it. Of fearing what others would do if they knew, of having someone but never allowing yourself to actually have it.

Of course he sees the comparisons to be made between Cas and him. He sees what his insistence in believing in Cas, even when his gut tells him otherwise, means. He understands what is being left unspoken in long, drawn out gazes and crooked smiles. He knows that their post-death hugs and late nights spent chatting with each other while watching the old westerns that Dean loves mean so much more than they pretend.

I think that over the years, Dean would return to the film and re-mourn the loss of Jack. Over and over, on nights when Sam is out late researching in an archive and Dean knows he has a few hours alone. He has a torrented copy (because he can't risk the physical evidence being found, even after settling into the bunker). I think that Charlie probably downloaded for him, because of course - she knew. Maybe she slipped it in a batch of movies Dean requested from her, with a few of her own added in for good measure. He regrets never having the chance to thank her for that.

After Cas dies and goes to the empty, Dean hangs the jacket with the bloody handprint on the inside of his dresser door. He stands there and thinks about Ennis finding his and Jack's bloody shirts intertwined in a hidden spot in the back of his closet, together, after his death. Dean stands, staring at the jacket, heartbroken. He thinks about loving and losing and never-really-having. Of letting yourself bask in the sun, shining on your face. If he can't have Cas, he wishes that the universe, or Chuck, or whatever, had at least seen fit to have left him with Cas's trench coat to protect on the inside of his stained jacket. But it (or he) didn't, all he has left is the relic of his not-lover's handprint, marked in blood.

[thedeadedhooman]

Favourite supernatural ship/s

thanks for the ask anon<3

samjess is my favourite I guess. it's tragic and sad and beautiful. It always makes me upset and I end up in a puddle of tears. It hurts my brain and heart. It's like a stabbing pain in the gut. what gets me is that even after such a long time, sam could never actually let go of jessica I think. I mean what am I supposed to feel after the i still think about jessica. he was shopping for rings, and he proposed to a ghost, to his past. a nice sweet normal figment of his life, that he held on to for a while until tragedy struck. sam probably doesn't even have any photos of jessica, they were all burnt in the fire. he probably had that voicemail that she sent when he went with dean to hunt the woman in white. which probably got deleted when they had to switch phones or simcards cuz of their shitty lifestyle. she's only a memory to him...fuck

sastiel cuz I love their autistic swag. of course there are moments that make me mad like cas breaking sam's wall but cas also took sam's pain. sam and castiel are so soft and tender with each other. I just know the sex would've been a galaxy brain moment.

samruby because they're toxic af but they truly loved each other at some point. they would've worshipped each other I think. it's bout the roles and the dynamics, there's also a lot of manipulation and betrayal going on and that adds to the more complex elements regarding the pairing. also the soft tender way ruby tries to cajole sam into believing that what he did was right scratches at my brain because she too sacrificed a lot to be the one who catalysed the whole thing. they could've ruled hell together. and their whole sex scene is like two lesbians fucking each other.

deanlisa because dean had a bit of normalcy and a cute son. dean and lisa made a cute pairing I think. he got to be a dad for a little while I guess. It's sad and tragic cuz when cas wiped Lisa and Ben's memories, it really hurt. Like you build this little family and they gave you something to hold on to for a while when you missed your brother and then have all of that taken away from you PERMANENTLY. that shit is sad af.

sambrady because I KNOW WHAT THEY HAD GOING ON. demon lover brady my beloved. I know they fucked. cuz brady is a demon and he died.

samsarah. they are so cute. and honestly out of all the partners sam had in the show I think sarah blake would have been perfect for sam imo. she wanted to help them during the hunt. she's a tough girl. they kiss for the first and the last time and she hopes that sam would visit again. she keeps waiting and waiting and waiting, days turn into weeks, weeks into months, months into years and then one day she gets married has a kid and that tall floofy haired boy with the puppy dog eyes turns up at her doorstep. she has moved on obviously but at what cost? she died cuz of the very man she waited for so long. and oh sammy. the only reason why he didn't go back was that he knew it was dangerous for her. later he had to go to her to save her but again at what cost? sarah still died and she had a husband and a kid...

wincest. do I need to even say anything? I mean where do I even start? It's not like I want them to fuck each other but it's the codependency. there's a lot going on with these two that can't be seen with the naked eyes. it's the subtext, the yearning, the longing looks, the roles...how dean can't function without sam, he's afraid to be alone, how sam loses it when dean is gone, the need to be the no. 1 person on their priority list, and the fact that they're canonical soulmates. yeah they're weird and that's what I like about it. sam and dean winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other.

sammadison how could I not mention this one. THIS IS MY FAVOURITE AS WELL. I mean it's so fucking tragic. like you think you saved the girl but for what? it didn't work and it's gonna happen again and there's no cure and you two share these tender moments of intimacy thinking everything's gonna be okay only to be met with the opposite. you gave her hope and now it's being taken away..it's never gonna be okay and she asks you to kill her. whatthefuck. now you slowly see yourself in her, what if I become a monster and there's no way back and what if someone I love so much has to put me down like a sick dog. GOSH. I cried while watching that episode.

I also like samwena and saileen and megstiel but I haven't watched the later seasons that well so can't say much.

[aepsaluv]

Labyrinth

(Based of a Taylor Swift Song)

Warning: 16+ only! nsfw content //

╰┈➤In which Cas loves Dean

Castiel was an angel. He had seen horrors that no human has, he has seen loss greater than man kind knew.

He was grace, a soldier of God’s, a meer nothing to the unknown.

And yet.

And yet Dean looked at him as if he meant the world. He begged him to stop, Naomi whispering in his ear.

- Uh oh, I’m falling in love,

“Kill him, Castiel.” She whispered.

Dean grunted as Castiel punched him, the blade hanging uselessly from his hand as he punched.

Dean’s face, swollen and red, looked up at him with wide sorrowed eyes. Castiel’s voice cried in his head, screaming to let the man go- to let him live.

“Please.” Dean had pleaded, a large hand gripping onto his thigh.

Castiel stopped.

“You alright there Cas?” Dean chuckled, patting his shoulder.

Dean and Castiel sat on the couch, a meaningless show playing on the TV. The bunker lights dimmed low.

“I would do anything for you.” Castiel blurted out. His blue eyes simmering with emotion.

Dean, taken aback, chuckled nervously. His face twisted into one of concern. “Ha. Of course not, humanity over me right?” He attempted to joke.

“If it meant saving you. Of course.” Castiel responded, looking down at where Dean had reached over to hold his hand.

“I would destroy this world, rip it apart just to find you.” Castiel continued. “You saved me. You forgave me. Why did you forgive me?”

“Cas- what are you talking about.” Dean asked, his eyes scanning Castiel’s face. “Are you okay?” Dean repeated.

Castiel shoved Dean off and stood up. “Why did you forgive me, Dean. I could’ve killed you.”

Dean stood up as well, reaching out to touch Castiel. “Are you talking about Naomi? That wasn’t you, Cas. You know this.”

Castiel shook his head, shoving his face into his hands. “But it was me. I’m an angel- I listen to god’s command. That is what i am.”

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, angrily pulling at the brown strands. Dean sighed, grabbing Castiel and pulling him close. “Look man, you’ve done some fucked up shit, okay? But you more than made up for it.”

Castiel sniffled, blinking up at Dean.

- Oh no, I’m falling in love again,

Dean stared down at him, shushing him. Dean held on to him for what felt like hours, his large calloused fingers running down his spine in an effort to calm him. Castiel shuddered at the touch, letting his eyes fall close as Dean whispered into his ear.

“You have nothing to apologize for Castiel.” Dean assured. The way the angel’s name rolled smoothly off his tongue caused the man to shudder, pulling away from Dean’s hold.

“Dean…” Castiel started. His brain scanned through the thousands of possibilities before he made his decision. He stepped forward, pressing his lips against Dean’s.

- Oh, I’m falling in love,

The soft press of Dean’s lips against his followed by a soft gasp was better the the millions of events he had witness, the heat of Dean’s hand cupping his face blooming heat into his gut.

A moan tumbled out of Castiel’s mouth as Dean flipped him around and shove him into the couch. Castiel groaned as his head hit the pillow below him, a whimpering tumbling out of his mouth as Dean nibbled at his neck.

“What- Dean- I don’t understand-“ Castiel whined out, panting softly. Dean simply smirked.

“Shut up, I’ve been waiting for years- years you idiot.” Dean chuckled. Dean licked back into the angel’s mouth, rutting his hips against Castiel’s growing boner.

Castiel blushed, stuttering as he attempted to push Dean off. “What about Sam- This is a public ngl- space, Sam might walk in or- or- ah.”

Dean smirked against Castiel’s jaw, forcing the man up.

“Then I guess we just have to take this to my room, yeah?”

Castiel laughed.

He was in love.

[quillquiver]

Happy 2nd anniversary to those two old guys from supernatural [[ao3]]

Their room is a mess.

It’s not their fault; though they’re largely retired, Claire and Kaia needed backup on a nearby mystery monster situation. So Cas’d cracked open the books and Dean had packed a duffle and when they’d stopped hearing from the kids, they’d gone in after them. ’Course, by the time they’d gotten back they’d pretty much just shed their viscera-covered clothing and dropped into bed.

Bright winter sun streams in through the window, causing Dean to groan and Cas to burrow further into his pillow. The duffle has been thrown at the closet door, the thing busted open and swollen with weaponry. Cas’s angel blade thigh holster hangs off the bottom-right bed post and Dean’s gun sits atop the dresser. The room smells like sewage and monster guts, which isn’t exactly ideal for a second wedding anniversary, but Dean figures they’ve done worse; last year, Jack had been so sick they’d spent the day trying to stop his puking. 

But Jack is with Sam and Eileen today, and after a shower and a change of sheets, Operation: Oops We Did It Again can finally commence. Starting, hopefully, with a vat of coffee and Dean getting fucked silly as many times as they can swing it. 

“Cas,” he whines, eyes closed. He shakes his shoulder. “Coffee.”

“You do it,” Cas says.

“Did it last time.”

Cas slaps at Dean’s hands. “M’gonna burn it.”

“S’automatic, you loser.”

“Can’t.” He rolls over. Tucking his face into the juncture of Dean’s neck, Cas applies half-asleep kisses everywhere he can reach, mumbling nonsense about how good and strong Dean is, how he’s the best provider and so manly and wouldn’t he prefer to make the coffee?

Dean stumbles out of bed grumbling.

Cas smiles. “I love you,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. 

Yeah, Dean bets he does.

By the time he comes back with two mugs and his present under his arm, Cas has moved from his side of the bed to Dean’s, his head face-down in Dean’s pillow. Dean still has no idea how he manages to breathe like that. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. C’mon.”

Cas groans.

“Cas, seriously. There’s shit all over the room, I need you to grab this.”

He rises from the bed like a zombie from the grave, sitting up and offering his hands. As soon as the mug is cupped between his palms he sighs. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Kiss.”

Dean grins. Pecks his mouth. “We’re so nasty,” he says. “Feel like I need to go through a human car wash.”

“Mm.” His blue eyes are only barely open. “Made it though.”

“Yeah by the skin of our teeth.” Dean frowns at his mug. “Gettin’ old.”

“For fighting, maybe. For everything else...” Cas shrugs. Smiles. “I think you deserve a real retirement.”

Dean purses his lips. They haven’t really talked about going whole hog on their apple pie life yet, and it’s not something he really wants to think about; if his family’s in trouble, he’s just supposed to sit around with his thumb up his ass? He’d never leave Jack, how could he leave Claire and Kaia?

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Cas says, clearly more awake. He shrugs. “It might be something to think about. I don’t like it, but Sam and Eileen’s network has been doing great things. And I think we scared Claire.”

“Yeah,” Dean chews his lip, distracted. “Maybe.”

“...Is that for me?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Smiling, again, Dean takes the badly-wrapped package from under his arm and offers it. “It’s, uh, nothin’, y’know. Just... yeah. Happy anniversary.”

Cas kisses him, soft and sweet. “What is it?”

“You have to open it, you dork.”

“Alright, well...” Cas stretches and reaches under the bed, bringing up a present of his own. “Happy anniversary to you, too.”

Dean grins. “Open mine first.”

Cas’s gift is a riotously coloured cotton sweatshirt and short set. The thing looks like it’s been pulled right out of the 90s, soft and bright and Cas smiles so big his gums show. “I’m going to wear it once I’ve showered.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He leans in for another kiss, grinning when Dean chases as he pulls away. “Open yours.”

Dean shakes his head, moving to press soft, wet kisses across Cas’s top lip. “Wanna make it last.”

Cas gives as good as he gets, shuffling until he’s practically in Dean’s lap. Their empty mugs have gotten lost in the dirty sheets somewhere, hands holding and squeezing and grabbing as the kiss deepens to something sexy and slow. Cas has this way this way of kissing that makes it feel like the main event. “Trust me,” he breathes. “We’re going to want what’s in there for the next part.”

“The shower?” Dean teases, leaning in again.

Cas nips his bottom lip. “The sex.”

Dean tears into the wrapping paper. 

“Oh hell yeah.”

Sheets. 

“Egyptian cotton,” Cas grins. “500 thread count.”

“Mm, talk dirty to me.”

“Single-ply,” he says lowly. “Hand-dyed.”

“Oh baby.”

They beam at each other. 

“Thanks, man,” Dean says. “I love ’em.”

“That’s only part of your gift,” he explains matter-of-factly. “I also plan to fuck you on those sheets. And to have pizza delivered later.”

“Hot.”

They make-out for longer than they probably should given how gross they are, until Cas is trying to hump him like some over-eager teenager and Dean is rapidly forgetting why they shouldn’t just add to the mess (the answer: that would be disgusting). “Sweetheart, we gotta—we should—”

“What if we just, ah, like this. Then later—”

Dean shakes his head. “Want it to last. I want—”

“I can do that. I can—fuck—”

“Cas, if you come without fucking me I’m gonna be pissed.”

Cas wrenches away, frustrated. “Then just let me—”

“Woah,” Dean interrupts. “What’s the rush? Sweetheart, hey. Castiel.” But Cas refuses to meet his eyes. Dean cups his face. Cas grips his wrists. “Talk to me.”

“I love you,” he blurts out.

Dean frowns. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

“I love you so much,” Cas says, like it’s a confession. Like it’s being ripped out of him. “I’m here. We’re married. We almost died. And I just—Dean, I don’t know—There’s something wrong with me, I—”

Dean’s eyes soften. “Nah, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Sorry,” Cas croaks, squeezing his eyes shut as if to stop himself from crying. “I want you. I-I want—So I don’t understand why I’m—I was fine. I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “You are.” His dirty fingers thumb away tear tracks from the apple of Cas’s cheek. “Look, sometimes... we think we’re fine but we’re overwhelmed, y’know? S’okay.”

“I wanted to take care of you today.”

“Who says the day’s over?” Dean asks. “We’re gonna go take a nice long shower and I’m gonna wash your hair, and then I’m gonna go order like 40 pizzas and choose a movie, ’cause you owe me for coffee this morning. Then we’ll shove everything in the wash, and change the sheets, and you’re gonna fuck me so good I’ll feel it for the rest of the week.” Cas huffs a laugh. Dean smiles. “Darlin’,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk about hunting.”

Cas bites his lip. “I don’t want to die,” he breathes. “I only just got you back.”

The smallness of his voice hangs in the air between them. Dean feels something in him break. “...Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “I know.”

“But I don’t want to leave Claire if she needs help,” Cas argues with himself. “And you love hunting, I don’t want—”

“Alright well, first of all I don’t love hunting.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean promises. “We always do.” They’re quiet as he rubs at the cut of Cas’s jaw, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. “Not to change the subject or anything,” he eventually says. “But that was some serious real adult shit right there.” Cas rolls his red-rimmed eyes. Dean puffs out his chest. “C’mon, you gonna tell me I didn’t just make that conversation my bitch? I win at relationships, man.”

Despite the smile creeping across his face, Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Whatever, I’m totally winning.”

Cas squints. “You routinely put things away without asking where they go. And then you forget about them, like a squirrel.”

“Please, you leave your shit all over the place. What am I supposed to do? Just walk right on by?”

“Yes! You...” Cas trails off, eyeing Dean’s shit-eating grin with a grimace. “Fine. Yes. Thank you. You’re very good at relationships.”

“Some would even say...” Dean prompts.

“They’d be wrong,” Cas says simply. “If the sample size is the rest of our lives, there’s no way to tell you’ve won yet.” A shrug. “And as we aren’t even through the whole day today, the jury still seems to be out on that, too. Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry. 

Dean hums. “So what you’re saying is, we should get in the shower to figure out who’s better.”

“As a start, yes.”

“Cool.”

Dean’s halfway to the bathroom when he suddenly pulled into a hug. Cas steps in and around until they’re pressed chest to chest, clinging to him in a way that would have broken bones if he was still an angel. He pulls away with a kiss to Dean’s closed mouth. “Thank you,” he says emphatically. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop being thankful for it.”

A blush explodes across the bridge of Dean’s nose. “That’s cheating.”

“I meant it.”

Dean looks at him, helpless. “Cas.”

Cas stares his fill until he’s apparently done, nodding to himself before leading Dean, by the hand, into the bathroom. “Come.”

Dean does, for the record.

[zmediaoutlet]

a vessel

pairings: Sam/Dean(na), Dean/Lucifer, pining!Cas warning: non-con length: 2700

What if Jack wasn't Kelly Kline's son, but Deanna's?

---

Deanna can't stop chewing her thumbnail. It's down to the quick, smarting, but she keeps sticking it in her mouth anyway, biting at it anyway. A rush of coppery salt makes her jerk and blink and finally tear her eyes away from the tome of celestial theory. Red riming the bed of the nail. She could get up and get a band-aid but it'll have to wait because Sam, the stupid self-sacrificing idiot, is in a submarine seventy-three years and an ocean away from her, and nothing really matters but getting him back.

"Him and the Hand of God," Castiel says, extra-gravelly like if his voice is even lower she'll take it more seriously.

"Yeah, Cas," Deanna says, but she doesn't know why he bothers with clarifying. Like they haven't known each other for almost a decade. Like he doesn't know what her priorities really are.

Sam shouldn't have gone. Of course there was no choice but to let him be the one to go. Not the first time she's wished she was born a guy. A submarine in the forties full of male soldiers—no way she'd be able to sneak around, find what needed to be found. Of course, his stupid hair would make him stick out like a sore thumb, too, so technically—but he'd only given her that so-patient look, waiting for her to come to the obvious conclusion. For all the arguments to the contrary over the years, she isn't actually stupid.

They'd hugged. Nothing else, not with Castiel right there watching, waiting almost impatient, and he'd wrapped careful arms around her shoulders and pressed his lips down against the top of her head. She can bring to mind exactly how he smelled, right in the center of his chest. The shirt he'd worn for two days, the faintest trace of rain-fresh deodorant but also the smell of his skin. Salt. She'd said told you you should get a haircut, and he'd huffed and said, yeah, and then kissed her hair brief and easy, and stepped back to where Cas was waiting with that hard strange light in his eyes. Getting ready to jump. See you soon, Sam said, and Cas clamped a hand on his shoulder and then—

She blinks hard at the book. It's gone blurry. Her thumb hurts, and she sucks it clean of the blood and then wipes her hands hard over her face, pissed at herself—there's work to do, there's no time for this shit—and on the next page, there it is. A spell.

"Can you do it?" she says, dumping the book in front of Cas. "It calls for the power of an archangel, but—"

Cas looks it over. Irritated at first—he has been since he came back sogged out from the ocean, which Deanna did find entertaining until she realized what it meant and bloomed into full-on panic—but then considering. "It can't hurt to try," Castiel says.

Her gut's one hard furious clench. She thought he'd say something sadsacky and Cas-like, something about his powers being fragile. "I don't know how much time he has," Deanna says. Cas ignores her, looking at the ingredients. "The whole time travel thing—do you know how long we have, until the sub goes down?"

"We have time," Castiel says, barely looking at her, and she—how does he know? How can he possibly?

The majority of the ingredients are simple if gross, fetched from the catalog in one of the archive rooms. She washes her face in cold water in the WC and puts her hair up in a half-bun and looks at herself in the mirror. Her eyelashes dark spikes like she's been crying. Her lower lip so bitten and chapped she might as well be a kid again. When she remembers telling Sam, who kept chewing his lip, hey, quit it, use Blistex like a normal person, and had tugged his lip out of his mouth so many times when he was fourteen that he'd bitten her thumb once in pure bitchy retaliation. He'd stopped, though. All that work to get him to grow up and she couldn't, couldn't. Wouldn't.

In the library Cas is working, steady. Willing to try, no matter what. No matter what else has happened between them she loves him a little, for that. Only—

"Cas," she says, helpless. He dumps vervain into the steel bowl, ignoring her. "You're not strong enough. It isn't going to work."

"Deanna," he says, rough, and pauses. He picks up the butcher knife, dragging the preserved brain closer. "Have faith."

Where has he been. As though there were any point in having faith in anything but—Sam, and sometimes, on occasion, what Sam and her could do, together, and when all else failed what their friends could manage. She presses her fingertips to her eyesockets, pressing hard just under the brow bone, and she wants—more almost than anything she wants—to go back. When their problems were easier. Just a quick apocalypse or two. Sam at her side, the two of them turning to people who knew better for help—like standing in Bobby's house, getting easy answers. Getting an eyeroll and getting called stupid, but the answers came anyway, easy-peasy.

Her eyes open. Bobby.

"Wait," she says. Cas sighs. He drops the mangled flesh into the bowl. "Wait, you—we can power you up."

"How," he says.

"Use me." Cas pauses, still holding the knife. Deanna drags in air, certain. "You touched Bobby's soul, way back then, to get me and Sammy back from the past. Use me, take—whatever you need. However you gotta power up, so you can do that spell and you can get Sam back. You can do that. Can't you?"

"I… can," Castiel says, looking down at the bowl of reagents. "But I'm sure I don't need to, Deanna—"

"You can't be sure," Deanna says, quick. She comes close, sets her hand on his sleeve. "Cas, please."

Later she'll know it all went wrong—there. Right then.

Cas laughs. He never, ever laughs.

Deanna steps back. Instinct, inbuilt from age four. "What?"

"It's so strange," Castiel says. He turns, leaning his hip against the table. Weird and casual. "I'm working so hard to get Sammy back, and I'm letting you boss me around like—what, like you're interesting? You've got the connection to Amara but there's nothing about you that's ever, ever mattered to me. Isn't that funny."

His voice odd, high. Deanna takes another step back and runs into the other table. She grips the edge of it with one hand.

Castiel drops the knife onto his table and then he's—there, crowded up against her, his hands hard on her wrists. Bruising, shocking strength. She doesn’t breathe, looking up into his eyes. Unfamiliar blue.

"I always focused on Sam, you know," Castiel says. He smiles down at her, shrugs. "Girl that got away. Just hated him to bits. But you, you were always just the irritating little gravel in my shoe. Little bitch that Sam kept pining after, making him say no to everything I wanted to do. Even when I finally got in there, it was you that caused all the problems. What was it he saw in you? I never could figure it out. When, to me, you're just some stupid slut who never served her purpose. My brother never even got to take you for a ride, so what is the point of you?"

Her tongue, caught fat and shocked in her mouth, finally unfreezes. "I don't know, Lucy," she says, her voice coming from some distant place. "Must be above your pay-grade."

Lucifer smiles wider, all teeth. "Took you long enough, dummy," he says, and then backhands her so hard she falls back against the table, the legs screeching a foot backwards on the floor.

Pain's nothing—it rings in her skull, blood sluicing down from her nose, but so what—and she knows, knows, there's an angel blade on the bookshelf under the scimitar and there's another on the bar, by the crystal decanter she hasn't refilled in too long—and even if they won't work on Lucifer, at least it'll give her time—and all that goes through her brain in quick flipbook succession, knowing how to roll off the table and lunge for the bar and grab it and spin and stab him in the chest, in the fucking brain if she has to, no matter whose body he's in—but. This isn't Cas, this is an archangel, and he knocks her back to tabletop in an instant, crushing her down into the wood, not letting up. She blinks hard, tears smarting, and Lucifer arranges Cas's face into a little playact of pity, looking down at her.

"Aw, sweetheart. Feeling tough?" he says.

She lets her head thunk back onto the table. Rage ripples down through her throat and lungs and gut, chased with a liquid shot of fear. She wants the mark back on her arm. How she could tear into him, with the blade back in her hand. No matter the consequences that'd follow.

Lucifer looks all over her face, clearly entertained. "Well, that is kinda fun," he says. He transfers her wrists to one hand, squeezing so hard the bones feel like they're going to snap any second, and flicks her hair back away from her face. Smiles, softer. More awful. "You know, Cas said yes to this? He knew I was your only shot at fighting back Amara. First decision he made that wasn't grade-A idiot. But you know that wasn't the only reason. Don't you?"

Deanna breathes shallowly. The cage. Sam stuck in there, all her terror proved true, and when she broke in Lucifer beating them both bloody, her bones shuddering and Sam nearly gone and Cas shoving Lucifer away from them, from her, and—she can't—she was holding Sam, curled over him like she could protect him from what was coming, and Cas said—Cas—

He drags cool fingertips down her cheek, denting the skin. Down her throat, hard enough it hurts. "All those dumb protective urges," Lucifer says. Cas's fingers on her collarbone, and then dragging at the collar of her henley. Revealing the edge of her bra. Her heart thuds thick and slow and calm, a vast coiled beast under her skin. Lucifer's lips twitch. "All that envy. What he'll never get. And he just wants to protect you, anyway, you know that? You and Sammy. He knows. You know that, right? About you and your brother."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Deanna says. Wishes, immediately, that she hadn't. Another stupid instinct from all those years in the dark.

"Honey, you're dumb but you ain't that dumb," Lucifer says. His hand drags down, glancing over one breast and then down to her stomach. It sucks in without her say-so. "So," he says, soft. "I'll get your brother back, so I can take the Hand of God out of his big mitts. Then I'll gut him, because I am so, so tired of that stupid hangdog face of his. And I'll keep you safe and sound in my palace, a caged kitty while we work out how to take out my bitch of an aunt. But I think, first, it's only fair to give Cas a little treat, for the favor he's done for me—letting me free to take out Mork and Mindy, once and for all." He drags her hips to the edge of the table in a hard cruel haul, and smiles at her. "Mindy was kinda hot, don't you think?"

He flips her onto her stomach. Maybe he thinks that's more humiliating. She breathes slow. Not like it's the first time. Her belt snaps. Her jeans and panties hauled down to her knees. She braces her boots on the floorboards. Buzz of a zip. "Wow, not the most embarrassing vessel in the world," Lucifer says. She wants to say, Cas. Cas, stop. It's me. Cas, you can stop, it's me, please, don't let him, don't let him do it, you don't want to hurt me, Cas, can't you—can't you take control, take some goddamn responsibility, Cas, please—except there's no point in saying anything like that because if Cas were going to stop it he would have stopped it, already, and while she's thinking that his cock blunts stupid up against her, already hard, and she opens her eyes wide and sees every fleck and color of the woodgrain and then it's shoved inside. Thick. Not the thickest or biggest but she's dry and it hurts. Of course it's meant to.

She grips the edge of the table, takes it. Her hipbones grind into the wood. "Don't be afraid to make some noise," Lucifer says. He grabs her hair, pulling her face away from the safe shadow of the table, hauling her back onto Cas's dick. "We gotta make a nice highlight reel for Castiel, don't we?"

Like he's taking a walk in the park. She braces, tilts her hips so it hurts less. Because her head's been pulled up she keeps her eyes fixed on the telescope, at the far end of the library, and lets the room bob dizzily between each pummeling thrust. Her toes curl, scrunched inside her boots. Her heart a distant, steady drum.

"You're good at this, huh?" Lucifer says. He's not. His hips move like a piston but there's no imagination, either to make it hurt more or to humiliate her by making it good. Never was human and apparently never bothered to learn, either from Cas or Sam or poor doomed Nick, all those years ago. Just hard meat, cramming in where she's soft, over and over. Slick now because that's how bodies work. She doesn't know if he's ever done this before, in any body, but Cas is hairsbreadth from being a virgin so it can't take that much longer.

Sure enough: "Let's give him a show," Lucifer says, and pulls her upright by the throat. His breath coming in odd little puffs. He's not choking her but the clutch is hard enough to make her dizzy. She squeezes her eyes closed and focuses: the pole slotting in and in and in, the grip around her right wrist, the bruises throbbing up on the bend of her hips and now maybe on her thighs where she's getting crushed against the table. His chin over her shoulder, prickly stubble against the side of her neck, his voice soft while he says, "We better show Sam, too, before I kill him. Make sure he really sees. Big sister, dripping. Just like he used to, you know? Back then, when we were roomies."

She makes a sound. Not meaning to but the air chokes in her throat. He squeezes hard, laughs high and goofy.

"You're all so easy," Lucifer says, laughing, and then he pulls her in tight and pushes her own hand over her crotch and says, "Feel that," while he jerks inside, coming. She can't, other than the thickness. It should be—boiling hot, like the demons used to be, but then again he's an angel. Despite everything.

When he pulls out there's a sting. He pushes her hand down further, cups against the loose-wet gap, and she feels that first trickle, dripping. Thick.

"Too bad Michael never got to try you out," Lucifer says, soft against her ear. She opens her eyes. The library, the telescope. A little smoochy kiss against her neck. "Would've been fun to break you both in. Oh, well."

He shoves her. Deanna catches herself against the table.

"Ooh, stay just like that. Be right back, lickety-split."

A flutter, like wings. How didn't they notice that before?

She pulls her hand out from between her legs. Sticky. No red. She's surprised, considering, but then Jimmy Novak's dick wasn't all that big. Her breath and heart and mind are still slow and calm as a hibernating snake. In her pocket, a knife. She drags her jeans mostly up, folds her fingers around the silver handle. Angels and blood. Her thumbnail stings, where she tore it.

The wingbeats come again and there's Sam, in an old-time sailor uniform and his face pale and his eyes going right to Deanna, ignoring the danger at his left side.

"Dee?" he says, taking her in, and then steps forward. His face changing, seeing what was left for him to see. Behind his shoulder Lucifer smiles at her, broadly satisfied. Happy to win the battle, no matter the ultimate stakes of the war.

[unhinged-jackles]

An exploration on the progression of loss in 15x18

The first loss that occurs is Charlie losing Stevie. This one definitely hits the least, as it’s AU!Charlie with a character who’s never been seen before. The audience isn’t at all emotionally attached to the relationship between these characters, but Stevie vanishing is still sad given the romantic nature of her and Charlie’s relationship, and the sense of foreboding this loss sets.

The second loss is Sam losing Eileen, and this one definitely hurts. We’ve grown to love Eileen throughout the past few seasons, both as an independent character and as love interest of Sam’s. Even though we don’t actually see her vanish, seeing her messages stop coming through is brutal especially with Sam also doing his best not to lose his mind and keep focusing on the tasks at hand. It was also an inevitable loss because of the phone call Sam received from Bobby of another hunter just vanishing. We knew Eileen’s death was coming, but that almost made the pain worse because Sam wasn’t able to save her.

The third loss occurs when the refugee hunters are in the silo. This doesn’t have the depth of Eileen’s death because the hunters are mostly a bunch of extras. Seeing Charlie, Bobby, and Donna vanish in front of Sam and Jack, however, was quite sad. The tone is set that this cannot be stopped, and then we also learn that everyone in the world has vanished. Team Free Will 2.0 has lost, because who is left to save?

And of course, Cas. Cas’ death was by far the most devastating loss in 15x18, which is something we are all extremely aware of. What’s interesting about it is the way it become framed with the other events of the episode. Cas dying, specifically Cas dying in front of Dean is framed as a greater loss than Sam and Jack finding out the world has been Thanos snapped. Cas’ confession and subsequent death is the most gut wrenching moment in this progression of loss. Yes, Sam and Jack just found out they’ve lost the world but Dean lost Castiel, a name with a weight that can’t be put into words.

The manner in which Cas dies contrasts the other deaths in the episode as well. The losses of Stevie, Eileen, the hunters, the fucking world, was all manipulated by Chuck as a means to fulfill his big grand plan. Cas instead chose to sacrifice himself. He chose to be taken by the Empty in order to kill Billie and save Dean. His death was his final act of rebellion, his final act of free will against Chuck who’s left him alive; the exact opposite of all the other losses in the episode.

Cas’ death also simultaneously directly parallels Stevie and Eileen’s deaths. There are three losses that are specifically one person — Charlie, Sam, and Dean — losing someone important to them — Stevie, Eileen, and Cas. Two of these are existing romantic relationships. The third is the love confession that broke the internet and trended over Russian politics and the fucking United States Presidential Election. Cas’ declaration of love for Dean rewrote their entire 12 year relationship, and him dying was so fucking heart wrenching because he left Dean with a what we could’ve been. There was no closure, a door was opened and would forever remain open. Yes, Charlie and Sam lost their significant other, but Dean was left with a whisper of a what if and a broken heart. He ignores Sam’s calls and just sits there on the the dungeon floor quietly dry heaving, feeling nothing but despair.

[diminuel]

Time to watch another SPN episode, 12x15 now. I don’t even know what this is about off the top of my head. I have always struggled a bit with the second half of S12 because I found the Lucifer plot ridiculous. (And was annoyed when Cas was constantly away on the Kelly Kline chase plot.) Anyway, under the cut!

Alright, I am not enjoying the depiction of Dean here. He is “gross” (covered in monster guts which he casually flicks about, doesn’t care about it, Sam has to tell him that he’s got bits of a siren stuck in his hair and that he should not sit on the chair because he’ll get the chair dirty. But Dean got into the car like that...?) and he’s also “stupid” - totally blanks out when Sam gives him a lie about how he got the cases.

But, seriously, why the hell is Sam lying to Dean about that. He knows Dean well, he saw what the fall out was to Mary’s secrecy and he’s just doing the same shit? I don’t care that it’s Sam’s birthday today, he’s getting the knife emoji for that. 🔪🔪

Sam and Dean don’t really do their job properly if you ask me, unless I am confused. But A demon deal takes ten years. From the couple’s conversation it seems like she is leaving for college, so she must be pretty young. Do Sam and Dean just assume the guy made a demon deal at 10...?

Again, we are faced with Dean behavior that would have been fitting in S1 but not in S12 in my opinion. (Dean tells Sam to take care of “her” but by her he doesn’t mean the girl Sam is protecting but the car. And he harps on about how she’s a beautiful woman...) Crowley’s casual “ew” reaction on the other hand is fitting.

Crowley saying “ a few years ago, who would've thought you'd be working with the King of Hell?” Have you been watching the show, Crowley? They’ve been working with you on and off for years now X3

And I wished Dean would have been more disappointed or felt a bit more betrayed by Sam lying to him about the BMOL...

I don’t think I said anything about the Cas sub plot, but since we’re already at “lying to Dean/ keeping secrets from Dean” I should mention it. Cas should know better too at this point... This is not a terrible secret of course, he’s just listening to Joshua’s pitch. But he could have mentioned it even though I understand why he didn’t... That Kelvin kept on saying that heaven is now united due to the nephilim problem, when they already banded together due to the Amara problem annoyed me a little bit just for consistency’s sake I guess.

So, to sum up: it was an episode. Not bad but not particularly entertaining either. Visually, it was appealing though - Dean in classes and Cas was particularly beautiful this episode.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 119

You Can’t Handle the Truth/The End of Time Part 1

“You Can’t Handle the Truth”

Plot Description: Sam and Dean investigate a series of suicides and discover someone is invoking the Goddess of Truth, forcing people to be cruelly honest

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: why is there a fully loaded gun just in a locked drawer at this restaurant but like where any employee could just get it? Honestly? I’d just move. I wouldn’t blow my brains out

How did Bobby not notice there was something off about Sam for a YEAR?? Of course Dean sees it from the get go but damn

Good LORD. The writers were like “what’s the most hurtful shit someone could say to another person” and then put it in as the dialogue for this episode

Yeah, see. If someone confessed to assaulting my teenage daughter, and I had access to dental tools, I’d be taking those matters into my own hands too

Calling it now: we’re gonna get a scene in the last 10 minutes of the Goddess of Truth getting Dean to say that he doesn’t trust Sam and/or Sam to say he did just sit back and watch Dean get turned by the vampire

The dentist had not one but two pictures of Kenny G hanging in his office??

So there’s a Goddess of Truth who has Gabriel’s Horn of Truth…cool

Cas!!!

I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to be the Winchesters dealing with all these angels and demons. They disappear in the middle of conversations but will come back with relevant information for what you’re going through but it’s JUST enough time for you to have fully cursed them out

God…someone hug Dean

Does GONE gone mean cremated? Or….MISSING?????? They’re just missing???

No, Dean!!! (This lighting is very flattering on him though)

Is the news anchor the Goddess of Truth?? She’s been on the tv every time someone has said they want the truth, I’m pretty sure. Or…is that just some weird coincidence because this IS the cw

JESUS, BOBBY. “I never told anyone that. Why am I telling you? Probably because you’re my favorite, though Sam’s a better hunter. Lately, anyway”

Yeah. I knew we’d be getting a classic Winchester confrontation that could only happen through supernatural forces

Oh no. We’re gonna get a Lisa/Dean break up under this curse Dean has??? I feel bad for both of them.

Does…does it only work on people with SOULS? God. Now Dean’s gonna feel like shit for doubting him even though he’s right

Omg was I RIGHT??? It IS the news anchor?? That wasn’t just the cw not being able to afford other stock video in the background??? Look at meeeeee being so smart

We’re in the last 10 minutes now…I’m still holding out for that confrontation.

Ok but like she’s VERY pretty. I’m glad she got dressed for the occasion

See this?? This is what I mean. Supernatural forces making them spill their guts (metaphorically). Dude, Dean. I can’t tell you that punching Sam repeatedly in the face was wrong though.

“Been On My Mind…”: ohhhhh, the exact opposite. I think we’re at 5 now…I am BAD AT COUNTDOWNS

"The End of Time Part 1"

Plot Description: The Ood have given a warning to the Doctor. The Master is returning yet that is not the biggest threat. A Darkness is coming which brings with it The End of Time.

Am 👏 I 👏 ready 👏 for 👏 this?👏 NO.

Um. Where'd that lady who was just talking to Wilf go? I don't think she's related to Cas. She cant' just go disappearing like that after telling the story of why the TARDIS is in that church's stained glass

You're being very cavalier about all this, Doc.

WELL, after THAT, he's got his ass in gear. Literally everything the Ood said was terrifying.

Hmmmm, that's uncomfy. The lady who found the Master's ring is now freeing Lucy Saxon. Why's it take four humans to sacrifice themselves to bring back a timelord?

I love, GENUINELY love things just happening because we say and for the drama of it all. I love when you don't have to explain all the details of why there's a potion of life and one of death in science fiction. Sometimes, you just wanna enjoy stuff

Oh, I love Wilf rallying his old folks group to find the Doctor.

The bleach blond look is a good one for The Master

CAN THERE BE ONE DAY. JUST ONE. WHERE SOMETHING I WATCH DOESN'T REMIND ME OF HIM. (this is about the intermittently skeletal Master propelling himself super high in the air and then diving down at his victims while yelling for the Doctor) I would just like ONE. DAY.

No because why am I also getting Todobros fight, a little bit, from this Doctor and Master confrontation. The Doctor just wants to help because the Master is BURNING UP HIS OWN LIFE FORCE. I CAN'T DO THIS

Ma'am, that is sexual harassment.

Pain. Agony, even. "I'm going to die." "I will, too, one day" "Don't you dare" All while knowing one of if not the last thing Bernard Cribbins ever filmed was the 60th anniversary special WITH David. I am unwell.

Their discussion about Donna as she's getting in the car is equally heartwarming and heartbreaking. Every moment is Wilf not even that subtextually begging the Doctor to just DO. SOMETHING. so she can travel with him again all the while they both know he can't. And then doing it very plainly. They both want her back with him SO. MUCH. They made each other SO MUCH BETTER.

Positively WHINING at this scene between the Doctor and the Master. The Doctor wants to help him, and the Master WANTS to accept that help...but he can't. Because the Doctor can't. hear. the. drums. So how could he possibly help?

Oh my god. Hundreds of years of having to deal with that sound driving you mad, and finally FINALLY someone else hears it for barely a few seconds, but it's enough. It's enough to know that all the suffering you've been through has been real. It's something that's been done to you and not something you've done to yourself.

Oh, hey, it's the outfit I did for the only time I cosplayed at a con.

How'd she have a whole conversation with Wilf through the television. This isn't Blink. You don't have anyone transcribing half the conversation

Knowning what I now know about the industry, this must have been either a wonderful or HORRIBLE day on set for John Simm, having to shove that much turkey in his mouth for however many takes it took

OMG RIGHT. He turns EVERYONE into himself.

ba-RACK Obama? Really??

I love the stupid ways things happen on this show. The way everyone turns into the Master, their heads shake really really really fast for a minute

No no no no no no, Donna. Nooooo.

He's so cringe.

[shipsandlattes]

So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already. 

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long. 

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold. 

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean​ and @inacatastrophicmind​! 

[pinknatural]

After a long while, Jack straightens back up, wiping away his tears.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he says again. Dean waves his hand in dismissal. What’s some snot and tears? 

“It’s fine,” he says again. “I mean it, kid.”

Jack looks like he might begin to cry all over again, but he sniffs and makes a valiant effort not to. They’re in a motel room--Dean couldn’t bear the Bunker, and Sam and Eileen’s honeymoon phase. He’s happy for them, of course he is, but seeing them so in love is kind of painful, and Dean could tell Sam was trying not to be overt about it to spare Dean’s feelings, and Dean just felt that, well--he might as well remove himself from the situation, at least for a little bit. 

(Plus, now he has some peace and quiet--the motel room is littered with books and research, scrolls and files and other pieces of lore--all on the afterlife, of course. All on how to get there.)

“Okay,” Jack says. “Okay.” He raises a glowing hand to his own forehead, but he pauses when his fingers are about an inch away. He swallows. 

“Come on, kid, what are you waiting for?” Dean asks. 

“I could bring her back,” Jack whispers. “I should bring her back.” 

He lowers his hand, turns a stricken gaze to Dean. 

“Who?” Dean asks. He thinks, Kelly. He thinks, Maggie. He thinks, absurdly, Charlie. 

“Emma,” Jack says. 

Dean feels as if he’s been hit over the head. 

“What?” he says. Has he turned into a fish and been left out on the docks? Where did all the air go?

“You’ve been thinking about her,” Jack says, like a confession. “Praying.” He has, if only because he’s been wallowing in what he can’t have, the husband, the daughter. He has, if only because he’s been wondering if the way to the Empty could be through Purgatory. Would he have time to sweep the place first? Would he be able to find her, unlike the last two times he was there?

“Yeah,” Dean tries to say, but no sound comes out. He tries again. “Yeah. You could really…?”

“I can do anything,” Jack says, with a sad, bitter smile, and Dean reaches for him. Jack falls into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Dean’s back, clinging to his shirt. Dean runs a hand up his back, cups the back of his neck. 

“You don’t have to,” Dean says. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever said. “God, kid, I’d like nothing more, but you don’t have to. You gotta do what’s best for you, you hear me?”

“I know,” Jack says. He sniffles. Dean thinks he might be crying again. “And I love Claire so much but I just want my sister. Dad, I want to bring her back.”

Dean squeezes his son. He closes his eyes. 

“Then bring her back,” he whispers, and one of Jack’s hands leaves Dean’s back. Golden light shines, starting behind Dean and filling up the room, making it brighter and brighter and Jack gets smaller and smaller and Dean just holds on, tighter and tighter. 

The light fades. 

A little boy has his face buried in Dean’s gut, arms wrapped tight around Dean. They don’t even go all the way around, anymore. Dean runs a hand through Jack’s hair, stunned even though Jack told him this was what he wanted, even though they’d talked and talked about it before Jack decided to go through with it. 

“What?” a tiny voice says, and Dean turns around. 

Emma is standing there, only she’s not--she’s not exactly the Emma Dean remembers. Instead of being sixteen, she’s something like eight years old, eyes wide and hair tangled with leaves. She’s splattered with blood, and wearing the same clothes she’d died in--the same clothes Dean buried her in. They’re too big for her, and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears. 

“What happened?” she asks, looking around the motel room wildly. “Where am I?”

“Emma,” Dean says, untangling himself from the three year old on the bed and kneeling, reaching out gently. He stays near the bed, afraid of spooking her. “You were rescued from Purgatory. You’re safe.” He turns to Jack. “Why is she little?”

“She’s human,” Jack says, shrugging. He’s chewing on the end of his sleeve, eyes wide. His clothes, at least, are three-year-old sized. Dean wonders where he’s supposed to get Emma some clothes, but there’s a pink suitcase sitting beside Dean’s duffel. The sight of it is too much, and he looks back at his daughter. 

“Safe?” Emma repeats, looking down at her hands. She flexes her tiny fingers. 

“Eight years have passed,” Dean says, still holding out his hands--he’s not sure if he’s trying to soothe her or reach for her. “You’re safe, you don’t have to kill anyone, I won’t hurt you.”

Emma looks around again. She sees her suitcase and stares at it, then swings her gaze back around. “Who’s that?” She points at Jack. 

“That’s Jack, that’s my son,” Dean says. “Your brother. He brought you back.”

“How?”

“He was powered up--he was God--but now he’s just a kid,” Dean says. “He, um, wanted to bring you back.”

“Dada was prayin’ for you,” Jack says, voice muffled around the sleeve he’s still chewing. Dean reaches out and gently removes it from his mouth. “He wanted you to come back. I wanted to meet you.”

“Oh,” Emma says. She looks down at her pants. “I’m all dirty.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “The bathroom’s over there if you want to--shower. I can help you if you want.”

Emma shakes her head and reaches for her suitcase. She goes into the bathroom, turning around and looking back at Dean and Jack, eyes wide, until she shuts the door behind her. Dean collapses back onto his feet, running his hands over his face, laughing incredulously. 

“I did good?” Jack asks, sliding off the bed and crawling onto Dean’s lap. “I did good?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Dean says, voice cracking. He hears the shower turn on, the water begin to run. He curls up tight over Jack. “You did great.”

--

The first thing Cas is aware of is big blue eyes. The rest of the features on that face sharpen into a nose and mouth, grace smearing around the small face, and although it seems impossible, it can only be--

“Jack?”

“Daddy!” Jack cries, and he throws himself onto Cas. Cas catches him easily, holds his tiny body within his arms. Oh, he’s so small. His golden wings stretch as big as they go, which is not very big, to wrap themselves around Cas, and reflexively he wraps his own around Jack as well, holding him tight, rocking slightly back and forth.

Then he remembers--everything, and that he’s supposed to be dead, and he looks up.

Green eyes. Freckles, slightly crooked nose, beloved mouth, beloved jawline.

“Cas,” Dean croaks, and he falls to his knees. Cas is on the floor, legs crossed and Jack curled up on his lap. Cas doesn’t want to let go but Jack wiggles away, and Cas is afraid to reach out but helpless to do anything else.

Dean crawls toward him, falls against him. He presses his face into Cas’ neck and breathes, in and out, and Cas thinks he might be crying. But Cas is breathing Dean in, and he smells like the Impala (home) and guns (safety) and lemon (Dean) and Cas’ eyes aren’t very dry, either. 

“You dumb son of a bitch,” Dean says, voice tucked safe into the place between Cas’ neck and shoulder. “You goddamned idiot. You stupid fucker. You dumbass, you, you.”

“Dean,” Cas says, and Dean shudders out a shaky breath, breathes heavily against him. Dean is alive in Cas’ arms, and he couldn’t be happier.

He tilts his gaze up, looking for Jack, and he finds instead a little girl with brown-blonde hair. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt and denim shorts and one of Dean’s flannels. She’s practically swimming in it, but her sleeves are rolled up and her eyes are the same apple-green as Dean’s, and Cas holds Dean tighter. 

“Emma?” he asks. She nods and looks away uncomfortably. 

“Emmie, Emmie, my daddy’s back,” Jack says, bouncing over to her and dancing around, wings flapping madly. 

“Yeah,” Emma says. 

Dean clears his throat and finally leans back from Cas. He reaches out an arm and Emma comes over to him, sitting on the floor beside him and tucking herself against his side. Dean wipes away tears with his other hand as Jack barrels back around, throwing himself into Cas’ lap. Cas holds him and looks around. 

They’re in a motel room, two queen beds, identical to the countless ones Sam and Dean have stayed in over the years. But there’s a pink suitcase next to the TV and a blue duffel with sharks on it beside it. On one of the beds there’s a pair of stuffed rabbits, one pink and one yellow. There are various books and scrolls piled on the little table beside the couch and also piled onto the couch itself. Spell ingredients are on the floor, spread out over a placemat. 

“Daddy,” Emma says, and Cas looks at her, tugging on Dean’s overshirt. His heart melts. Dean deserves nothing less, of course, but he knows what toll gaining then losing a daughter has had on Dean. He’s so glad that Dean can have her back, that she can have Dean, too, that she can have another chance. She deserves it, and already Cas looks at her and sees her hair in a careful braid and her Wonder Woman socks and he knows he would die for her. “If me and Jack are siblings and you’re Jack’s dad and that’s Jack’s dad, too, then. Um.”

She looks at Cas nervously. Dean squeezes her shoulders. 

“Me and Cas have to talk about all that,” Dean says. Cas is astounded that it’s not an instant denial. 

“We do?” he asks, and Dean meets his gaze head on.

“Yeah,” he says. “We got a lotta stuff to talk about, you and me. Kids, why don’t you watch some TV and Cas and I’ll go outside.”

Jack scrambles off of Cas’ lap and turns around, presses a wet kiss to Cas’ cheek, then he climbs onto the bed with the stuffed animals. He grabs onto the yellow bunny and Emma crawls beside him, putting the pink bunny on her lap and pointing the remote at the TV. Cas stands and offers his hand to Dean, who takes it, lets Cas pull him up.

Dean goes outside and Cas follows, of course he does. They don’t let go of each other’s hands. 

“Why are we in a motel?” Cas asks. Dean shrugs. 

“Needed some space,” he says. “Then I wasn’t sure how big of a house to get.”

“A house?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. He rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Can’t raise kids in a bunker, come on man.”

“What about Sam?”

“He’s fine,” Dean says. “On a hunt with Eileen.”

“Oh,” Cas says, slightly confused. 

“Yeah, I dunno,” Dean says. “Salt-and-burn in Orlando, I think. So, um, listen, man…”

“Thank you for getting me out of the Empty,” Cas blurts, afraid Dean is about to reject him. He has always known Dean would do so, but he thinks to hear it would be--upsetting.

“Of course,” Dean says. “You’re, um. I couldn’t just leave you there, you’re--”

“Family?” Cas suggests.

“Yeah,” Dean says. He takes a step forward. “Though, you know, I’ve been thinkin’ about what we are to each other.”

“You have?” Cas takes a step back when Dean takes another step forward. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. “Living together, raising a kid together, dying for each other. Never wanting to be apart.”

“Oh?” Cas says, and his back hits the wall. Dean stands over him, caging him in with only one hand--the other still wrapped around Cas’ palm, their fingers intertwined. 

“You know what that sounds like?” Dean asks, breath ghosting along Cas’ jaw, and Cas can’t really think. Why is Dean standing so close to him?

“Family?” Cas croaks, brain stuck on the word. Family, they’re family.

“I was thinking it sounded like husbands, Cas,” Dean says, and then Cas doesn’t have to worry about why Dean is standing so close anymore, because Dean kisses him, and Cas’ brain ceases functioning--but it’s okay, because if Dean says they’re husbands, who is Cas to argue?

--

Sam pulls up to the motel after dropping Eileen off at the Bunker. She was tired from driving all night and Sam doesn’t blame her, but he can’t believe he’s missed everything while he went to one measly salt-and-burn.

He parks the car and gets out, crossing the parking lot. He knocks on the door and Claire opens it. She looks the same as always, except she has a purple stuffed bunny peeking out of her jacket pocket. Sam is smart enough not to comment on this. 

She steps aside and lets him in, and Emma squeaks and practically climbs up Dean when she sees him. It’s a work in progress, with her, and Sam feels terrible but he’s not sure what he can do besides give her time, so he looks away and instead turns to Cas, who smiles when he sees him. 

“Sam!” he says, and he stands up from the couch, crosses the room and hugs him. 

“It’s good to see you,” Sam says, clapping Cas on the back.

“Sam!” Jack says, and he barrels towards Sam’s legs with the determination of a battering ram, and Sam intercepts him before he can make contact, picking him up and swinging him over his shoulder. Jack laughs and laughs, and Kaia waves at Sam from her spot curled up on the couch. 

“This motel room is very full,” Sam says, looking around, and Dean grins at him. 

“That’s why we’re shopping, Sammy,” he says, and he points at his laptop. 

“Find anything good?” Sam asks, crossing the room to sit on the couch so he can see the computer. He deposits Jack into Cas’ arms, and Dean comes to sit on his other side. Emma stays on the bed, hiding behind Claire, who’s obviously taking guard-duty pretty seriously since she’s half-glaring at Sam.

Sam looks away and turns his gaze toward the computer. 

“We weren’t finding any good listings so we’re looking for some land, now,” Dean says. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the Bunker? We’ve got a lotta room,” Sam says. 

“Nah,” Dean says. He slings his arm around Cas, who’s perched on the arm of the couch. “We need a house.”

“Windows,” Cas says solemnly, tangling his and Dean’s fingers, and Sam notes the movement with a pleased smile. 

“But if we build a house we can add-in wards and stuff, right into the foundations,” Dean says. “We can make sure it’s safe, and good.”

“Will you build it?” Sam asks, even though he knows the answer. 

“Damn straight,” Dean says. The silver band on his ring finger flashes as he shuts the laptop. Jack crawls into Kaia’s lap, and she wraps her arms around him. 

“I think it’s a good idea,” she says. 

“Yeah,” Sam says. He meets his brother’s eyes. “Me too.”

(ao3)

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

after the credits

to thirteen years of cas and of the greatest love story ever told...an empty rescue fic for y’all :) 2.3k,  read on ao3 here

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

After a while, Castiel gets tired of watching. He’s practically dreaming all the time, but he’s so tired.

Eternal sleep is not restful.

He can’t leave the Empty, but he manages to mold it, with his mind, into a theater. He went to one once, with Dean, and there are probably nicer theaters, like those for plays and operas, but this movie theater is right for him. If he concentrates, he can almost smell burnt, buttery popcorn and spilled soda and old carpet, and Dean right next to him, aftershave and car oil and whiskey.

Almost.

The scenes unfold in a memorable order, because they’re Cas’s own memories. At first, he tried to jump in, alter the scene, but he’s powerless. So, like clockwork, he watches. He’s saving Dean in hell. He’s being stabbed in the chest by the same man he raised. He’s asking Dean to get answers from Alastair and then almost getting the grace pressed out of him. He’s slamming his palm onto a bloody sigil. He’s--

Everything, all of his twelve years on earth, pass by, over and over and over again.

Right now, it’s an early scene, not far into the cycle. It’s not one of his favorites, because he can see the expression on his face, remembers exactly how he felt. Remembers that he he was feeling at all.

“That was a pretty awkward kiss, huh?”

Cas turns sharply at the sound of Dean’s voice. Of course, Dean does talk in this scene, before he kisses Anna. But this Dean is sitting next to him, frowning at the screen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cas says.

“I know.”

Chances are this is just the Empty trying to mess with him. Last week a random trashcan showed up in his theater. Or maybe it was last year, or a millenia ago, or five minutes from now. Time is weird.

They keep watching in silence. On the screen, in the memory, Cas’s head jerks away from the sight of Dean and Anna kissing. The scene flips then, to a park at night, Anna right in front of Cas, no Dean in sight.

“For the first time, I feel...” Memory-Cas says.

“It gets worse,” Anna warns.

“So your first feeling….” Dean starts.

“It was something.” Cas can’t look at him. The scene on-screen changes.

Dean, to his merit, doesn’t press.

The memories progress through the year they spent trying to stop the apocalypse, the year that ended with Sam diving into the pit and Dean going off to Lisa’s. Then through Cas starting to work with Crowley, a conversation that happened right behind Dean without his knowledge.

On-screen, Cas is watching Dean rake leaves. The expression on his face is nearly mournful. After a moment, Crowley steps into view.

“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?” Crowley says.

“What are you doing here?” Memory-Cas asks.

“I want you to help me help ourselves.”

“Speak plain.”

Crowley smirks. “I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”

“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an Angel, you ass. ”

The scene flips again.

“Is there a way to pause this?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head. “It just does this, on a loop. I can’t sleep. The Empty won’t let me.” He puts a hand on the armrest between them. “I forced the theater up, to make it better.”

“It looks a lot like that theater we went to once.”

“I know.” Cas stares at Dean for a moment, looks away.

Many of these scenes are things Dean knows of. Cas works with Crowley, gets locked in a ring of fire, feels his chest seize up as Dean looks back for a moment. Watches the Leviathans lead him to a lake. They meet again on porch steps, Cas unable to remember who he is but still able to figure out that Dean is important. Cas gets his memories back, takes on Sam’s hell trauma. They go to Purgatory, Cas stays behind. It’s like clockwork.

Until.

“I don’t remember that,” Dean says slowly, watching himself die on the screen. “You never--you’ve never killed me.”

“Yes and no.” Cas knows what’s coming next--he’s going to kill Dean thousands of times. Each one is the same, with Cas in tears as these copies, mock-ups of Dean struggle, beg and plead, tell him not to. Each time, Naomi makes him do it again.

Until, finally, he doesn’t hesitate.

And she says he’s ready.

As they watch that scene in the crypt unfold, with the real Dean at Cas’s mercy, Dean leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin in his hands. “You lied.”

“Hm?”

“You said you didn’t know what broke the connection.” Dean twists his head to look at Cas. “But you did.”

“I did,” Cas assents.

They watch Cas ride cross-country on a bus, pulling out his phone and almost calling Dean over and over again.

“Is there a way that we can see some of my memories?” Dean asks.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”.

Dean shrugs. “Well, I am here, and you figured out how to make a friggin movie theater, so I think I can do it.”

The image on the screen shudders, coalesces, breaks into a million pieces and then reforms. Dean is standing on the edge of a lake, picking up Cas’s coat, still covered in Leviathan goo. “You dumb son of a bitch,” Memory-Dean mutters, wrapping up the coat in his arms.

The scene flickers again--the coat in those same hands, moving from car to car to car, and then being passed to Cas. “I always knew you’d come back ,” Memory-Dean says. It’s a soft scene, almost, but then it flips to Dean seizing a monster’s collar in purgatory. He’s covered in blood and grime as he shoves the monster up against a tree, practically growling, “Where’s the angel?”

Even after the monster answers, Dean guts him.

It’s a cycle. The memory blurs through sleepless nights, through Dean stepping into streams to pray, prayers Cas knows well. It pushes past Cas letting go of Dean’s arm in the portal, and here’s something else new: Dean sees Cas on the side of the road, sees him outside the window while it pours down rain, sitting bolt upright at the phantom sight of Cas’s face.

“Why are you here?” Cas finally asks. This must really be Dean, after all. The Empty wouldn’t know these things, wouldn’t be able to dream them up. They’re too good, too honest.

“To bring you home.” Dean kicks the back of the seat in front of him, leans back in his own chair.

“I can’t go home.”

“You should.” The scene on screen rapidly changes--it’s Dean as he looks now, carrying a little boy on his back. The little boy is blonde, round-faced, holding onto Dean’s neck for dear life, laughing as Dean swings around.

“Is that--” No, it can’t be.

“Yep. He’s four, you know.” Dean clears his throat. “He misses you.”

“I wish I could have gotten to say good-bye.” Cas trails off.

“Come home. Then you never have to say it.”

Cas shakes his head. On the screen, Dean is reading to Jack, Jack following the words with a chubby finger. “It would be...awkward.”

“How?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “We’re family, dude. Jack misses you, Sam misses you, and Eileen’s been hanging around, and me…” Dean clamps his mouth shut.

That’s why.

“Things aren’t going to be the same. Not after…” Cas takes a deep breath. “What I said. We won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Then we won’t.”

“Dean--”

“You don’t know?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know. Okay. I, uh…” The screen turns black.

“You what?” Cas is almost afraid to know.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

The blackness unfurls into Billie’s library, Dean standing in front of her. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation.

“What do you want me to say?” Memory-Dean asks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. ”

“Don’t you?” Billie replies.

“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“Dean--” Cas starts, but Dean just looks at the floor, like he’s trying to avoid this.

“You really believe that,” Billie says. “You wanna die.”

“When was this?” Cas asks, speaking over the rest of Billie’s statement.

“It was...right before we, uh, got the call from you. That you were back.” Dean leans his head all the way up, looks at what would be the movie theater’s ceiling, if it wasn’t in the void. “I had a bad time. I…I would show it to you. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I held it together enough to wrap your body and burn it…”

“Hunter’s funeral.”

“Only kind I know how to do.” Dean swallows, audibly. “I’m doing what I can now. Having Jack to take care of, and Eileen around, too, helps. But it’s…” He finally looks at Cas again. “Please let me take you home. Please come home with me.”

Cas would do anything for Dean Winchester. He has done anything for him before. So he will grant him this, at least the illusion, because Cas knows he can’t leave the Empty. He’s trapped here for eternity.

He takes Dean’s hand.

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

There is a little boy crawling on him.

“Daddy,” the boy says, poking his face, “I know you’re awake.”

“Jack,” Dean says, from somewhere up above, “Cas is still sleeping.”

Cas blinks rapidly. “‘M not.”

“Shouldn’t’ve said that.” Dean releases Jack, and Jack fully clambers onto Cas.

“I missed you,” Jack says.

“I missed you too.” Cas holds onto him, tight. He’s so small, like he’s supposed to be. A kid. Safe.

Cas thinks he might be in Dean’s bed.

The bunker, he discovers, looks much the same. He was gone for four months, in which time Dean and Sam took care of Chuck, Jack became a kid, and Eileen became a permanent fixture. When Dean and Sam aren’t looking, she signs to Cas, “He already looks better.”

“Who, Dean?” Cas signs back.

Eileen nods. “He had a pretty bad time.”

Dean turns around then, and Eileen presses a finger to her lips.

There’s not a quiet moment for the rest of the day. Sam explains what happened--”You might be human now,” he says, and Cas replies, “I’m not tired yet.”--and Jack wants Cas to read to him and play Barbies and racecars and puppets (apparently Dean built Jack’s little puppet theater, which--).

After dinner (spaghetti and meatballs, and Dean has a Coke instead of beer, Cas notices), everyone goes off to bed, and Cas realizes he is tired, which is something to think about.

He starts to head to the room he typically stays in, but Dean seizes the top of his arm. “Nope, you’re coming with me.” Dean drags Cas down the hall towards his room.

Cas hadn’t gotten a good luck at it earlier, what with Jack climbing all over him, but he sees it now. Dean’s bed unmade, scraps of random paper littered across the dresser, a picture Cas recognizes because he and Dean are wearing cowboy hats, and now he knows how Dean was really doing right before that case in Dodge City--

There’s also a dent in the wall. That’s new.

Dean follows Cas’s gaze. “I chucked a whiskey bottle at it. Sam took the rest of my stash the next day.” Dean steps over, brushing the drywall’s cracks with his fingers. “I didn’t fix it up so I wouldn’t forget.”

I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.

“Dean,” Cas says, “Tell me in words.”

“What?” Dean turns away from the wall. “Tell you what?”

“You know.”

Dean swallows, licks his lips. “I’d say don’t ever do that again on the whole dying thing, but I said that to you once and you didn’t listen. And maybe if I say it the right way now, you’ll stay, but…” Dean slumps, sits on the bed. “You can’t leave again.”

Cas touches the wall himself before sitting next to Dean on the bed. “I’m not going to.” He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Dean.

Dean touches him instead, leaning into Cas, finding one of Cas’s hands, holding it tight. He’s crying, Cas realizes. “I love you,” Dean says into their joined hands, then his chest wracks with a sob. “I was always so sure that if--” another sob, “If I said it, you’d leave. Get taken away from me.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Cas repeats.

He isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but Dean finally straightens up, lets go of Cas’s hand, wipes his eyes with the back of his own. “Pajamas,” Dean says, standing and crossing to the dresser. “We gotta get you some of your own, but…” He digs a pair of sweats out of the drawer and tosses them to Cas. “These’ll do for tonight.”

Cas doesn’t ask if he can stay. Dean doesn’t ask him to leave.

With the lights out, it’s pitch black, almost as inky as the Empty, but Cas can hear Dean breathing, so close to him. The bed is almost too small for both of them, so they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Hardly ever have they been this close. Never did Cas dare to dream it.

In the dark, under the covers, the world outside of this room, Dean kisses him. It’s flat, soft, a brush of lips, the barest ghost, but it’s enough. More than enough.

Cas is home.

[tibbinswrites]

Day 1 - Harvest

You reap what you sow. Dean had always been taught that. In John’s very specific way of course. He reaps, those he saves get to sow. 

Watching autumn press closer this year is a strange feeling, he thinks from his vantage at the corner table in a coffee shop. The shorts and tank-tops begin to shift into jeans and sweaters. The frappuccinos become pumpkin spice (Dean isn’t complaining, not that he’d ever tell Sam) and the laziness of free summer days take on the more polished air of competent people with competent routines. He wonders, too often, if Cas ever felt like this, watching humans evolve over the eons, day by day, so slowly it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment when everything changed.

Once his mind begins to wander that way, it’s hard to pull back from. He doesn’t mind dwelling on thoughts of Cas anymore, the sharp edge of his loss has eased into a dull ache. It still cripples him sometimes, but less, and the memories are comforting. They’re about all that he has that can even make him smile anymore. He barely notices the sadness clinging to them. All his memories are sad in some way or another.

The bell above the door tinkles and a man enters in a beige coat. It causes a stab in his gut even though the man is light-haired, and the colour and cut of the coat is completely wrong anyway. It’s a thin coat, light. It’s not yet so cold for anything heavier, indeed, the man discards the coat almost immediately after entering the cosy interior of the coffee shop, folding it over his arm. Dean looks back out the window.

Perhaps it’s the chill draft from the briefly open door, perhaps it’s the turn in weather, or perhaps Dean just hasn’t had enough coffee yet, but he can’t help a sudden overwhelming feeling of bitterness as he looks out at the world, seeing the traffic, the people hurrying to and from places, ducking into shops, laughing, chatting, embracing, waiting at the crosswalk. All of them alive because of him. All of these people get to reap the rewards of his labour, of his loss, without even knowing a damn thing about it. But Dean Winchester doesn’t get a fucking harvest. All Dean Winchester gets is to watch the happiness that exists outside of himself. Sometimes it’s enough, most times it isn’t.

He knows it’s selfish, that once, not too long ago, seeing his brother happy and thriving, in love and fulfilled in his life, would have been all he needed to be content. Maybe even as little as a year ago he could have kidded himself. But they had come too close, he and Cas, far too close to becoming something, so close that began to rely on it as an option if he ever got strong enough to take it, began to look forward to that time even. And now, months after Cas’ confession and subsequent death, it’s the almost that kills him. The realisation that Cas felt the same, and the immediate knowledge that it was too late. The whole time they could have been… not more exactly, what Cas had been couldn’t take up more space in his heart if he’d tried, but something else, something that Dean had desperately wanted. Still desperately wants.

The man in the beige coat sits down opposite him, pulls out a brown paper bag and shoved it towards him with a glare. Dean responds in kind, tugging the bag towards him and peering inside. Then he nods, satisfied.

“Tell Rowena thanks.”

“She requests that you all come by when you’re done.” His face twists. “For tea.”

“We’d be delighted.” Dean says evenly. “I’ll keep her updated on how it goes.”

Draining the dregs of his coffee he stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and slinging it on, carefully tucking the jar of blood-red viscous liquid into his inside pocket. Fat droplets of rain begin to hit and slide down the glass of the window, increasing their intensity even in the short walk from his seat to the door. He pushes out into it and starts as a cold droplet immediately hits his face. Heading to where he parked Baby a block over. he sends a quick text to Sam, telling him that he’s on his way and that he’d managed to pick up the sap of the dragon’s blood tree, found only on a specific island off Yemen and the last ingredient they needed for the spell.

Dean placed the jar in the box he’d packed with bubble-wrap in the footwell of the passenger seat before making his way around to the driver’s side and opening the door. He pauses before getting in though, taking a moment to lift his face to the sky, allowing the rain to fall on his skin, and sends a quick prayer to Jack that he does what he can to make sure this one thing, just this one, goes right.

There’s a sudden break in the clouds overhead and Dean finds himself in the only spot of warm sunshine for probably a few miles. Then the rain closes in again, and Dean smiles, comforted in knowing he was at least heard.

As he gets in and starts up Baby’s engine, his bitterness from before transforms into hope, and a deep gratitude that everyone around him has been willing to help in this months-long endeavour. What had started as an insane idea born of the deepest kind of grief, accidentally voiced to Sam and Eileen one drunken night, became a kind of group cultivation. Calls had gone around the rest of the family, research had been done, strings had been pulled all over the country, theories had been brainstormed and tested. Cases had been handed over to others so that they could focus, even though Claire had been chomping at the bit to go out and kill something. He couldn’t have done this without them, and he knows that they’re (at least mostly) doing this for him.

He’s getting tired of reaping after all. He just wants the chance to help something grow.

[icefire149]

Fluff prompts. 51 + destiel :)

Heyyyy there <3 I'm so sorry how long this took to write. Between my own life throwing hurdles, THIS FIC.....this fic just kept throwing me in the trunk and taking control of the car. I'm so sorry it sprung a million miles away from fluff immediately. I don't know why when I mediated on the prompt my mind went this way and didn't stop. I hope you still enjoy what ended up happening anyways <333

#51 “I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”

Dean’s heart stopped the moment they fell through the portal rift. His body hit the bunker floor with a loud thump, but so did Castiel’s. It wasn’t until a moment later when Cas wiggled to sit up, slamming the palm of his hand onto the floor as he gasped for air, that Sam felt his stomach drop.

“Dean?” Sam shouted, dropping to his knees at his brother’s side. He shook Dean’s shoulder with increasing roughness.

With wide eyes, Cas pushed forward searching Dean’s face for any sign of life. “He was…..Sam, he was just-”

“He’s not breathing.” Sam muttered in shock before surging forward to start pressing on his brother’s chest. “What did he do, Cas! A deal?”

“No!” His whole body started trembling. What he wanted was to lay his hands on Dean’s head and wake him up, but there was nothing he could do now. His fingers lightly grazed across the bandage Dean quickly taped on his neck. There wasn’t an ounce of grace left.

Squeezing his hands into fists, Cas glanced around the room. Besides the three of them and the bowl the brothers must have used for the spell, the room was bare. “Where’s Jack?”

Sam kept his eyes glued to his brother’s face. His jaw tightened. “A lot’s happened since you died. Jack’s God now so he left.”

“He’s what?” Furious, Cas pushed Sam’s hands aside and took over compressions. He slammed a single fist into Dean’s chest, rocking the man’s whole body from the impact. Still, Dean didn’t wake.

Cas leaned close, listening and feeling for breath against his skin. His mouth quivered as he sat up feeling for a pulse. “No,” his voice commanded.

He started compressions, pressing harder than Sam dared. Dean’s limbs convulsed. “You failed, to mention, that you let, our son, become God,” he growled in between beats, letting his eyes trail up to Dean’s face. “You promised, me, forever! You promised. You promised.”

“You’re….breaking his rib cage,” Sam’s voice broke. His eyes were wide with horror as he watched his brother’s chest concave more than he thought possible. “Cas?” Sam’s voice shook. He rested a shaky hand on the angel’s shoulder.

“You don’t, get to die,” Cas mumbled, ignoring Sam’s presence. His hands paused for a moment as he took a deep breath. The sound of his own heart racing was like a loud boom, pounding on his eardrums. “Jack Kline, you will come home right now.”

Cas resumed compressions. Again, and again. He blinked the beading tears away, but they quickly filled his eyes. His hands, the bunker, Dean….they all blurred away as he kept beating to the rhythm of his nightmare.

The tears ran hot down his cheeks while he blinked. He needed to keep Dean in his sight. Dean was his beacon home. Sniffling, Cas couldn’t stop.

Sam withdrew his hand. “Cas?” his voice was so small and afraid like several decades were suddenly torn away.

Then as Cas pressed, he finally turned to glance at Sam. His voice cracked, "We're gonna need an ambulance."

At that, Sam flew to his feet, feeling for his phone before spotting it on the nearby table. He was unlocking it when a blinding light filled the room.

"Castiel?"

“Fix him.” Cas didn’t look up. He kept pounding on Dean’s chest. His compressions had only lessened a fraction in strength.

But Jack didn’t move from where he stood on the other side of Dean. His gaze moved over to Sam, and the fear circling there twisted the hunter’s gut into knots. “But I…..” Slowly, he dropped down to a knee, and then the other. “Cas,” his voice cracked. “There’s a bigger picture that I’m apart of now. I promised to protect it. I promised not to interfere.”

“And I, promised, to protect you,” Cas answered, halting compressions. He remained hunched over Dean with his hands still pressed over his heart. The angel’s eyes squished shut as quiet sob tore through him.

New tears slid down his already soaked face, hugging his jaw. “I can’t do that without saving him one more time. He promised me forever.” His gaze slid up to meet his son’s with fiery determination. “Jack, it’s too soon to be his time.”

“Okay.” Jack laid his hands next to his father’s. He closed his eyes, and breathed.

Dean gasped awake with three sets of eyes staring at him from above. The angels withdrew their hands.

Sam fell back into the chair at his side. His whole body sagged with exhaustion. “Thank you.”

“What happened?” Dean’s stare bounced back and forth between everyone. He slowly sat up, and Jack collided into him first.

Pressing his chin into Dean’s shoulder, Jack collapsed into him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A few coughs tore through Dean’s body, but he kept a hand on the center of Jack’s back the whole time. When his breathing settled, Dean hugged him back. Also with his free hand, he laid a hand on Cas’ knee.

“I felt it….when I healed you. Everything,” Jack confessed quietly. “Your heart gave out.”

Dean snorted at that. “That’s not much of a surprise, kid.” His eyes met his brother’s. “Sammy’s been telling me for years the bacon was gonna get me.”

“No.” Jack hung on tighter. “It was grief. The loss of Cas…….me. It weakened your heart, but I knitted it all back together again.”

“Oh.” Dean’s grip on Cas’ leg tightened.

“I didn’t know you would miss me.” The words came out quiet enough that Dean wasn’t sure if Jack meant to speak them out loud. And then Jack started to let go, but Dean held on tighter.

“I’m an expert at messing up….heh, well, everything in my life, but yeah, of course Jack. Of course, I missed you.”

-

The rest of the day felt almost too good to be true. They all climbed into the impala -Dean drove much to Sam’s dismay- and they went out to their favorite diner closest to the bunker.

Over their favorite meals, Jack began going over his progress and plans for all of creation. There were several parts where his excitement was palpable, but he clearly was trying to be mature about the situation under Cas’ scrutinizing eye. Sam followed after, explaining in detail the spell work him and Rowena poured over crafting the past several months. Intermittently, Dean cut in to proudly point out where his research came in handy and how him and Eileen went about gathering the ingredients.

Afterwards, Jack looked up from his dessert with chocolate syrup smeared at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he studied Dean closely. “Now that Castiel is free, what are you planning on doing now?”

Surprised, Dean leaned back in the booth. “That’s not my call.” He wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Any ideas?”

“No more dying,” Cas answered firm, taking a long drink from his beer. His steely gaze slowly moved to each person at the table. “That goes for all of you.”

“And you too,” Jack pressed.

“Of course.” Cas shivered involuntarily. “I’m not planning on returning to the Empty any time soon.”

“You shouldn’t, ever,” Sam answered. “That was the push behind removing your grace. Without it the Empty shouldn’t have any claim over you.”

“Thank you,” Cas answered, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“You’ll never go back.” The tone in Jack’s voice lifted Cas’ gaze to his. “When the time comes, you’ll have a place at my side. Forever.”

Smiling softly, the tension drained away from Cas’ body. “Thank you, Jack. That’s an honor.”

“You’ll all have an important place,” Jack continued happily. “Mary too. And my mother.”

-

That night had a difficult start. Jack reluctantly left for Heaven. He promised to return for the following weekend to discuss his duties further with Cas. And Cas, he held onto his son for so long that Jack in between his laughter had to appeal to Sam and Dean for help getting free.

It wasn’t long later that Sam got up from the library chairs they were all located at and rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re back. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight Sam,” Cas answered. He watched Sam cross over to Dean and punch his shoulder teasingly.

Once Sam was out of sight, Dean’s gaze landed on Cas. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Today, uh, didn’t exactly go as planned, but….I’m glad it happened.”

Cas’ stare hardened. “Dean, you died.”

“And I got better.”

Sighing, Cas’ gaze fell to his lap. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I can’t do that again.”

“Well, I can’t watch you die for….what? The fourth? The fifth time?”

Wincing, Cas nodded. “You asked me earlier….or rather, Jack asked you, what we’re planning on doing next and-” He sat up straighter in his chair and held Dean’s stare. “I want us to retire from hunting.”

Gobsmacked, Dean blinked. “Retire?”

“Doing research. Providing assistance on the phones….that’s all still acceptable and I’m willing to compromise on that.”

Dean chuckled, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Cas repeated, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded with a grin. “I’ve been bugging Sam for a couple years now about retiring…..especially if Jack could make things better...like the future that you saw.”

“Oh.” Cas tilted his head a bit. “I didn’t realize that you took that to heart.”

“I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “You died, and I figured that it was all one huge manipulation. Gabriel’s illusions. Lucifer’s lies.” Cas nodded, and Dean continued. “But then, you came home and….it became hard not to see so much of...you in him.”

“He’s a good boy, but I’m afraid that you’re placing too much….credit? On my shoulders.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Jack’s good, because he has the best father to emulate. There’s nobody else that fights….and sacrifices...to do the right thing like you.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth curved. “And they’re probably better off for it….”

“Cas, come on.” Dean sighed. “Okay, you did your big speech about how you see me….well suck it up, because you need to learn to see yourself the way everyone else sees you.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Dean pressed. “Like yeah, things don’t always go as we planned. I sure as hell know Chuck didn’t plan on being fired and left in the dirt, but….the point is that, you’re probably the best guy in existence.”

That knocked the air out of Cas’ lungs and slapped a goofy smile on his face. “You’re biased.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, and I’m not.”

Cas shook his head, but that smile was still firmly there. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Come on,” Dean said standing up. He reached a hand out towards the angel. “It’s time for bed.”

Without hesitation, Cas took his hand but he didn’t rise from his chair. He stared at the marvel that was Dean’s skin pressed against his. It was callused in a few places, but still softer than Castiel imagined.

His gaze lifted up to meet Dean’s and a pang of anxiety wrapped around his chest. The joy slipped from his face.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s grip tightened.

“What if I don’t wake up? Statistically, there’s a chance I’m still asleep in the Empty.”

Dean tugged Cas’ arm, and the angel let himself be pulled forward and engulfed in Dean’s arms. They clung onto each other tightly.

“You’re here,” Dean pressed. “This is real. I’ll remind you every day if I have to. I meant what I said when you woke up.”

“And then you almost didn’t get to fulfill that promise.”

“I would’ve,” Dean said, in a matter of fact. Pulling back, his eyes trailed over every inch of Cas’ face. He brought a hand up to cup the angel’s cheek, and then Dean leaned forward to press a kiss to Cas’ forehead. “Where ever my soul would've ended up, nothing was gonna change. I’d still love you.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “So you’re promising, forever-forever?”

Chuckling, Dean dropped his head so his forehead was on Cas’ shoulder. “Yeah,” he breathed, laughing still. “When forever ends, I’ll just love you some more.”

Other fics from this round of prompts

Previous round of prompts

[curlynerd]

You're Bacon Me Crazy Word Count: 2K Rating: T Summary: "I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!" Or, Dean comes out through complicated burger metaphors. Notes: humor, canon-adjacent, coming out, established Destiel, #pray4Sam

Also read on AO3!

"You're really having two burgers, Dean?" Sam asks in his most smug, most obnoxious "I’m eating kale for lunch" voice. Dean really hates that voice.

Dean straightens his back and spreads his hands out, like the two wrapped burgers, the extra large fries, and the soda with two straws are a majestic bounty. “I’m a growing boy, Sammy."

“Uh-huh,” Sam deadpans. He lifts the takeout lid of his salad and starts carefully drizzling the vinaigrette cup over his bed of leafy greens and grilled chicken. “And you’re definitely not going to bully Cas into splitting them with you? You know he doesn’t need to eat.”

Something tight and anxious curls in Dean’s chest. “No!” he blurts out, realizing a second too late that it’s normal for him to share his food with Cas. Just because he’s been doing it more now that he and Cas are finally together does not mean that it’s weird now.

In response to Dean’s defensiveness, Sam raises a self-righteous eyebrow in sync with his salad-laden fork. “Can he even really taste them? I thought he didn’t like food in angel mode.”

Dean swallows down a multitude of answers. He likes sharing the experience with Cas anyway. He thinks the way his face scrunches up at the molecules is cute. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside that an angel -- his angel -- is willing to put up with something so silly and mundane and human as taste-testing different burgers.

He really, really needs to tell Sam the truth about him and Cas. Hell, he’s been trying to for months! But every time the perfect opportunity presents itself, he turns into a fuckin’ coward.

And today definitely is another perfect moment. The conversation has naturally turned to Cas. They’re sitting at a picnic table at the park, with nobody around to overhear Dean spill his guts in the most agonizing and uncomfortable way possible. They’re working a case, so immediately after the conversation Dean can bury himself in research and hunting and not have to deal with Sam’s big, obnoxious “let’s make a huge deal out of this!” puppy dog eyes. And Cas isn’t even here right now to make things more awkward. He’s still checking out the victim at the coroner's office across the street.

Dean tries not to think about what a big baby he’s being by ignoring this golden opportunity. “He just tastes stuff different as an angel. He’s learning how to pick out the nuance.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Because there’s so much nuance to ‘extra cheese’ or ‘hold the tomato.’”

“Oh like you’d know, Mr. Tofu Burger.”

“You’d eat a burger off the floor. Are you really trying to convince me you care about what kind of burger it is?”

Dean huffs and levels an indignant glare at his brother. “I absolutely have a favorite burger.”

“Then why’d you get two different kinds?”

"I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!"

Sam snorts. "That's just an excuse to eat more burgers." He spears a forkful of tomato and spinach with a smug little twinkle in his eye.

"It's so not," Dean insists. He gestures at the two wrapped foil rounds in front of him. “These are two unique burgers that both have their own delicious qualities.”

“Really?” Sam’s expression is so pompous Dean kind of wants to throw a french fry at it. Except that would be a waste of a perfectly good fry.

“Yes ‘really.’ Look--” Dean carefully unwraps his first burger. “This is a pickle burger. And not just any ol’ pickle burger. The best, most amazing, and -- dare I say it? -- sexiest pickle burger in the entire continental US.” He smirks as Sam rolls his eyes. “Now I can tell by that condescending look in your eye, you’re wondering, ‘What the hell is so special about a pickle burger? It’s just pickles!’ But that’s where you’re wrong.” Dean lifts the top bun and points down to the burger, looking almost gleeful at all its toppings. “Fried pickles, pickled red onions, relish…Sour and sweet and crunchy, the perfect compliment to a juicy, meaty burger. And one this big? You’ve gotta have a little something special to handle all this meat.” Sam tilts his head, his mouth twitching like Dean said something embarrassing. Was it waxing poetic about vegetables? Probably. Dean chooses to ignore it.

“Ya know,” he continues, “for the longest time I didn’t think I’d like a pickle burger. For years I’d be at diners and think, ‘...maybe? I dunno. Probably not for me.’” Dean pulls his mouth down into a thoughtful frown and bobs his head to mimic his past thoughts. “And then...I’m not sure, I just figured, why not at least try it? All those burgers I’ve had all over the country; I could at least give it a whirl. And it. Was. Awesome!” Dean gently places the bun back on his burger and gives it a little affectionate pat. “Now I can’t get enough of ‘em.”

Sam's expression does a complicated dance that Dean can't even begin to follow. But it suddenly clears into a look of dawning realization, followed quickly by horrified guilt, before it clamps down entirely.

Weird.

"Well...I can't fault someone for enjoying a good pickle burger," Sam says slowly. He doesn't meet Dean's eye, keeping his gaze down as he delicately stabs at his salad with his fork. He frowns at the cucumber slice he spears and carefully dislodges it from the prongs. "Especially if they really like, uh, pickles?" Sam cringes a little down at his greens. Dean can't blame him. It's a sad looking salad.

"Exactly!" Dean gestures down at the burger. "I'm a meat man and a pickle guy." Sam looks up toward the sky and then down toward the ground below with a sort of pleading desperation. "This is a great burger for me. And don't even get me started on the sauce--"

"Okay!" Sam's voice pitches up several octaves. Dean frowns at him, but before he can ask, Sam takes a deep breath and plasters a warm, understanding smile across his face. "You know what? You're right, Dean. After all this time. All those, uh...burgers. I'm glad you've figured out which one you like best."

"Well, not quite. I mean, this one…" Dean carefully unwraps the second burger. "Is there anything sexier than a breakfast burger?" He practically beams down at the golden-brown bun, the fringes of fried egg drooping over the side, crisp bacon peeking out from under the patty.

"I...I don't know?" Sam has the same terrified expression as when Dean drags him onto ramshackle roller coasters at crappy county fairs. God, he's such a baby about cholesterol.

“Yeah. C’mon, you know they’re great!” Dean says cavalierly, because he’s not going to miss a chance to gloat about the awesome food Sam misses out on with all his salads. “Bacon is, you know, bacon! It’s the best tasting thing in the world! Salty, greasy, crunchy…”

Sam’s brow furrows so deeply it’s like it’s mining for coal, his unfocused eyes searching the empty space between them like he’s trying to figure out the deep, dark mystery of bacon.

Dean rolls his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t understand. The dude eats low sodium turkey bacon. "I know you haven't had good, real bacon in ages--" Sam looks offended. Then confused. Then offended again. "--but trust me, man. It's awesome. When ya got bacon in your burger, it automatically makes the burger a hundred times better. Can’t get enough of it!” Sam groans like he's in pain.

Dean grins and keeps going. “And you’ve gotta admit, a fried egg is a thing of beauty. Give me a good silky, drippy egg all over my burger and I’m a happy guy.” Sam’s nose scrunches up into abject horror. “You get that gorgeous, soft yolk oozing everywhere...It’s creamy and delicious and unctuous and--”

“Dean!” Sam shrieks. He lets his fork fall into his bowl and covers his face with both his hands. His voice is muffled, but it’s definitely a tormented whine. “I know this is a tough topic for you, but can you please just say you’re bi and never use words like ‘unctuous’ again? I’m begging you!”

Dean freezes. “Wh-What?” Did Sam really--? He--? How does he know?!

Sam pops up from his elbows, dragging both hands through his hair as he frees his face from hiding. “I get it, dude. Okay? I get it. I mean...I don’t get it.” He glances down at the two burgers with a perturbed look and holds up his hands in surrender. “But I get it.”

Dean stares at him. “Get what?” he demands. His heart is pounding fast. Bi. Sam knows he’s bi. When did he figure it out?! Why’s he bringing it up now?!

Sam fixes him with a flat look. “The burgers? The...God...bacon sex metaphor? The pickle guy thing? I get it. Please. Please stop talking about eggs like that. I’ll never eat an omelette again!”

Sex metaphors? Pickle guy?! Dean takes a moment to think and...yeah. Yup. He really did say “I’m a pickle guy,” out loud. Wow.

Maybe he should just...roll with it?

Because otherwise Sam is definitely going to mock him for that for the rest of his life, and honestly, coming out is the much better option.

“You got me,” Dean says with a small laugh. He spreads his arms out with a bit of a flourish, and it’s a relief to say it. It feels good. “What can I say? I like all kinds of burgers. And hotdogs. Tacos. Kielbasa...”

“Please stop,” Sam groans, rubbing at his eyes with his hand.

Oh yeah, this is definitely the better option. Dean fell ass-backwards into a conversation he’s been dreading for months, and the only person feeling awkward and miserable here is Sam!

Really it’s a win-win.

Dean grins from ear to ear as he relishes Sam’s mortification. “Hey now, I thought you were supportive! What happened to ‘I’m happy for you and your burgers?’”

“I am happy for you, I just wish this wasn’t happening over lunch…” Sam whines as he drops his hands on the table.

“What’s Sam happy about?” Cas asks, startling the both of them by approaching their picnic table. His eyes are earnest and sincerely curious, which only causes Sam to send a miserable, pleading look his way while shaking his head.

“Sam thinks pickles are gay,” Dean says to Cas with the same sort of smug glee of the teacher’s pet tattling about note passing in class.

Cas scrunches his face in confusion as he sits down beside Dean. “Sam, that’s...nonsensical.”

“That’s what I said!” Dean lies, because the way Sam’s eyebrow is twitching right now is too damn funny. “Wait til you hear what he thinks about bacon.”

Sam drops his face into his hands again. “This is the worst day of my life,” he groans as he massages his temples with his fingers.

Cas furrows his brow at him. “You’ve been to Hell.”

“And I’m still there, apparently!” Sam flings his hand up in exasperation. Cas quietly takes a sip of Dean’s drink, which for some reason just pisses Sam off more.

“You know, you could have just been normal about this. No weird, gross food metaphors. Just--” Sam drops his voice several octaves and bobs his head in a deliberately annoying parody of Dean. “--‘Hey Sam, by the way, I’m bi and totally in love with Cas, no big deal,’ or whatever.”

Dean goes still while Cas tilts his head at the two of them.. “Who says I’m in love with Cas?” Wait. Is that obvious too? Shit, well, looks like he gets to rip two bandaids off today. Thank God for the hilarious panic on Sam's face, because otherwise Dean would be the one freaking out here.

Sam’s eyes go huge, all color draining out of his face. “Oh shit. I didn’t-- I’m sorry, I--”

Dean can only manage to maintain the ruse for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Where have you been, man? Cas and I have been together for ages. I thought you were the smart one!”

Sam looks like he wants to leap across the picnic table and strangle Dean.

With a glare so sour it could peel paint, Sam snatches Dean’s extra large order of french fries and storms off toward the car to sulk. About three paces away, he stops, turns around, and levels a stern finger at Dean alongside his scowl. “For the record. I’m proud of you. And I’m honored you chose to trust me with this information,” he hisses in a frustrated huff before he spins on his heel and marches away.

Dean wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling under his breath. Cas stares after Sam in concern.

“Why is he so mad?”

Dean shrugs off the question as he slides the pickle burger in front of Cas and nudges him with his elbow to try it. “Hell if I know. If you ask me, dude needs to have a burger every once in awhile.”