#as evidenced by him giving up hunting when dean finally Lets Him Go

[ardentpoop]

ok since more of you than I expected are ready to acknowledge that spn’s concept of hunting is racist at its core are you ready to confront sam’s uniquely complex relationship with hunting as someone who is both Hunter and Hunted. as the second half of the notorious winchesters, expert monster-killers and world-enders, he “belongs” to the same oppressive group that dean and the other hunters belong to. however he is also decidedly on the fringes of that group for significant chunks of the story no matter how well he’s convinced himself that he’s assimilated. boy with the demon blood, abomination, freak monster vampire, grenade that’s abt to go off, if I didn’t know you I’d wanna hunt you, etc etc etc.

sometimes I’ll see people be like “so silly that the show completely dropped sam’s psychic powers” but like it actually makes perfect sense that he could never bear to use them ever again, or otherwise broadcast any further signs of him being a Freak - god knows he’s got enough going on w/ his fucked up body as it is. sam fully leaning into his powers in s4 almost ruined his relationship with dean for good lol from that point on he associates them with SUCH a low point in his life. he’d be absolutely terrified to ever touch them again. sure supernatural abilities are justifiable for their allies/“friends” but not for sam! never for sam. he has to stay inside the lines to avoid tripping dean’s Protective Instincts. can’t make dean need to Save Him again after all!

[chaoticbibuck]

so like this isn’t gonna be coherent at all but bear with me, bc i just watched the bad boys ep for the first time (i’ve been putting it off for Reasons™️) and uhhhhhhh insert that john mulaney “now we don’t have time to unpack ALL of that” meme but like i’m gonna try.

So first things first: John Winchester aka shittiest dad of the millennia. This may be an unpopular opinion but after watching bad boys I can comfortably say that John Winchester is an even worse father than god was. GOD. I was gonna brush over the fact that we all knew which is John probably didn’t even give Dean enough money for food to begin with, BUT upon thinking about it that’s a more important point than it seems because when Dean is first explaining to Sam why he went to a boys’ home he says he lost the money playing cards. Now at first that might just seem like some irresponsible teenage shit, but when you think about it it’s not because Dean was probably playing that card game in the first place because he knew John hadn’t given them enough money so he was trying to get more, but through some bad luck or whatever he ends up losing it instead. That then causes Dean to have to steal food because how else is he going to feed Sam, because let’s face it that boy was not thinking about feeding himself at that point, evidenced by when Sonny confronts Dean about him being hungry after the cop leaves in the first flashback. So then Dean gets caught and when John is told that Dean’s been arrested for stealing food, aka taking care of Sam, aka doing the ONE THING John has been hammering into his head since he was 4 years old, he tells the officer that Dean “can rot in jail”...... WHAT KIND OF BACKWARDS ASS SHITTY ASS PARENTING.....anyway I digress. Now imagine being Dean, 16 years old trying to be a mother and a father to his 12 year old little brother because their actual dad pretty much left them to starve while he was off on some revenge quest, and hearing that said father has abandoned him for doing the one thing he had always taught Dean to do. I know Dean is an emotionally repressed bastard even as a teen, but dear god I wanted him to burst into tears when he heard that. Not because I think he deserves to be upset, but yes I do think he deserves to be upset. Let me explain. I wish Dean never had to go through what he went through, but he deserved to feel upset that his father was gonna let him “rot in jail”, because what kind of a father does that? Dean deserved to feel that pain and heartbreak instead of bottling it all up and pushing it down. Also as an aside because I just remembered, why the hell is the cop (this is a rhetorical question bc cops are shit and it was the 90s) that arrested Dean not suspicious as fuck when this father says his son can “rot in jail” for stealing some bread and peanut butter?

Okay moving on before I become even more unhinged over John Winchester’s shitty parenting. Next I want to talk about Dean’s stay at Sonny’s and what that means to me in light of the finale. So we find out that he only stayed at Sonny’s for 2 months, which I honestly thought he was there for longer but anyways. It’s in that 2 months that we find out just how much Dean thrives in a normal home environment, or as normal as he can get anyway. As we find out in the diner flashback with Sonny, Dean is doing good in school, he’s making friends, and he’s joined the wrestling team which why join a sports (which he is very good at, looking at you championship certificate) team if he doesn’t plan on sticking around but again I digress. Now I know we tend to say that at Dean’s point in life now (bc he’s not dead fuck the finale) he wouldn’t be able to deal with/wouldn’t want the whole apple pie life, but at 16 years old Dean still hasn’t gotten fully entangled in the hunter lifestyle. Dean doesn’t want to be a hunter and for the first time (and probably last time bc I sincerely doubt Dean thought he had actually gotten out with Lisa and Ben), he sees a viable way out. Aside from Sonny’s talk with Dean at the diner, we also see evidence of this in Dean’s flashbacks of him and Robin, especially the one during their guitar lesson. When he and Robin are talking about what they want in life, Dean says he doesn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. He dreams of being a rockstar and wants to be a mechanic, a job where once he’s done with the cars (cases) he can let them go and he doesn’t have to worry about carrying them with him when he’s done with them. He dates this girl, he takes cute pictures with her, he wants to take her to a school dance. He begins to settle into a normal life in one place in a way he hasn’t been able to since he was four years old. And it all gets ripped away by his father who abandoned him, who only comes back for Dean when it’s convenient for him, because that’s all he sees Dean as, a soldier, daddy’s blunt instrument. And Dean is devastated that he’s losing his chance at a normal life. We see that he is visibly upset, even if it’s just for a minute before he pushes it away because even though Sonny told him that sometimes he needs to do things for himself, he still needs to take care of Sam.

Which brings me to the finale. God is gone and for the first time in his life Dean gets a true chance at freedom and the chance to live his life the way he wants to. (This is solely about Dean so I’m not even gonna talk about Cas and destiel bc that’s a whole ‘nother post.) In the beginning of the hellscape that is the finale, we see Dean getting to sleep in and waking up to his dog jumping into his bed, we see him go to a pie festival with his brother just because he wants to. With no big bad to chase after he goes to this festival that before would have been a trivial thing, but now it’s something he goes to because he can. Because for the first time in his life he gets to decide what he wants to do with it. And that includes hunting. Like I said before, I doubt Dean would ever be able to completely give up hunting. It’s something he’s good at and he likes helping people. He wants to help people. And if that means the occasional motw hunt between shifts at the garage, because even 25 years later Dean still wants to be a mechanic, then so be it.

Now what really gets on my fucking tits is that while on one of these routine hunts, a “milk run” as Dean would say, something that he has done hundreds, possibly thousands of times before, Dean is killed. This man who has spent his whole life doing what other people wanted, who sacrificed himself over and over again for the people he loved, even when they left him, is killed the second he gets the chance to do what he wants and just live. What’s worse is the fact that this hunt was one of John’s old cases that he failed to solve, because even from the grave John Winchester is still able to ruin his son’s life.

Now aside from the whole “bury your gays” problem, because I firmly believe Dean was killed for being queer, what kind of a message does that send to your audience? That no matter how hard you may work for a good and happy life, no matter how much you may want it don’t you dare think you deserve to have it. Especially if you’re queer, neurodivergent, suicidal, whatever. In the end you’re just a pawn for everyone else in your life

[440mxs-wife]

Second Chances

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Imagine: You had a very bad run-in with Soulless!Sam several months ago. Now that he has his soul back, Sam is determined to reassure you of his feelings.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam and Dean had just returned from a hunting trip that had lasted longer than they originally anticipated. First, they took out a vampire nest that they thought only had held one group of twelve vamps. Turns out, it was two factions of twelve that had merged together. Then, while they were on their way home, Bobby called them about a group of demons. They were causing problems in a town a few hours north of the bunker, possessions and collecting early on contracts.

While they were gone, you spent a lot of time thinking about Sam, whom you had just begun to date a few months before he fell into the Cage. Most of your thoughts were about the tender moments you shared. It didn't matter whether it was a movie night or staying up late talking, you were content just to spend time together.

Sam had been such a gentleman, holding doors open for you, or offering his hand to help you out of the car. Underneath all of his sweetness, though, lurked a passion he reserved just for you behind closed and locked doors. Nights with him could be gentle in one moment, then rough and demanding the next. Sam added an exciting element into your life you didn't know you were missing, and you loved him for it.

When Sam came back from the Cage, you couldn't wait to see him again. That feeling turned into disappointment to learn that he had been back for a year without trying to contact you. And that was only because Dean said he should let you know he was back. Once you had reunited, though, you pushed those feelings aside, grateful to move on in your life with Sam.

As the weeks went by, you noticed little things about Sam. How he didn't seem to want to cuddle as much with you, or how he would roll his eyes at your suggestion of a movie night. Your bedroom activities were just as passionate as before, if not more so. However, it felt a little one-sided, and usually in favor of Sam. You tried to talk with him about how you were feeling, but he brushed you aside, saying he had more important things to do.

After they returned from the vampire and demon hunting trip, you told the boys to bring you their laundry so they would have clean clothes. You pulled one of Sam's Fed shirts out of the bag, only to find lipstick on the collar, and it wasn't any shade you would wear. By this time, you'd had enough and went to confront Sam about it.

To your shock and surprise, he didn't deny sleeping with other women, one of them as recently as three days before coming home. He said that you were foolish to think that he should be tied down to only one woman. In fact, he told you that he preferred to have fun with a different woman every night "to keep things interesting". Then he asked when you were going to start fixing dinner, because he was hungry.

You slapped his face, then told him that it was over between the two of you and that you were leaving at the first opportunity. He smirked and said that it was fine with him, plenty of other women out there to take your place. You turned on your heel before he could see your tears and stomped off to your room, slamming and locking the door behind you. Once you were alone, the waterworks started. You knew there was something wrong, that this was not the Sam you once loved, but you couldn't come up with any kind of explanation.

Dean came in to talk to you a little while later, after he heard about the argument from Cas. He begged you to stay, to try and help him figure out what was causing Sam to act this way. You didn't want to leave your best friend behind, but you had to do what was right for you. As much as it hurt, you packed up your things that night and left the bunker.

You kept in touch with Dean over the next eight months, with phone calls and text messages. A couple of months after you left, he told you that the reason Sam was acting this way was because he had lost his soul. Three months after that, he told you that Sam was back to his old self, soul and memories intact. You were happy to finally know the cause of Sam's behavior. However, you told Dean that you had been hurt too deeply by what Sam had said to you on the night you left. You weren't going to come back.

Occasionally, Dean would come over to your place for dinner, but he knew enough not to bring Sam along. Each time before he left to go back to the bunker, he would ask you to please come home with him. Each time you told him no, that it would be too hard for you to see Sam again, especially after the way things had ended. Until Dean's last visit, anyway.....

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean came through the bunker door after having dinner with you at your place. Sam was plunking away at his laptop, gathering information for the current hunt. He looked up as he saw his brother descending the spiral staircase. Then he asked the same question he always asked after he knew that Dean had been to dinner at your place. "Is she coming home?"

Usually, the answer to this question was "no". This time, though, Dean had a different look on his face, causing a spark of hope to rise in Sam. "She said she would be here tomorrow to take a look at what we have," Dean answered.

Sam let out a loud whoop, leapt from his chair and bear-hugged his brother. He was overjoyed that Dean had somehow convinced you to come back to the bunker and help them. Sam vowed to himself to show you how sorry he was for what happened that had caused you to leave. He was determined not to let you, the love of his life, go so easily this time.

"Listen, Sammy, I know you're excited to see her after all this time, but you're going to have to take this slow. I want her to come home for good too, but you don't want to spook her into leaving again by overwhelming her. Let's just focus on the case for now, then see what happens next," Dean suggested.

"I know, Dean. I won't give her up without a fight. I still love her, and I'm determined to make it up to her," Sam replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You held your hand up to knock on the bunker door, but hesitated before  making contact. If Dean hadn't asked for your help, you probably  wouldn't even be back here. "Well, here goes nothing," you said before finally knocking, praying it would be Dean who answered the door.

The door opened, revealing the one man you didn't think you ever see again in your life. Looks like Chuck was too busy to grant this one damn request, you thought. You tilted your face up to gaze into Sam's hazel eyes, not knowing what to expect. You saw that the kindness seemed to have returned to his eyes. A kindness that was lacking in them the last time you had seen him.

"Hey," Sam said softly, breaking the silence. "Please, come in," he said as he moved aside to let you in. He noticed you were carrying a bag, which he offered to take to your room for you.

"I've got it, thank you," you replied as you followed Sam down the hallway to your old room.

"We kept everything just as you left it. Sorry it's so dusty, though," Sam remarked sheepishly.

"It's all right. I don't plan on staying long, only until this case is wrapped up," you explained absently. Over on the dresser, you noticed a picture frame you had left behind. This item was a lot less dusty than everything else in the room, as evidenced by the dust marks in the dresser. Someone had picked up the frame a number of times, looked at it then set it back down again.

The glass in front of the picture was relatively clean as well, you noted as you studied the picture. It was of you and Sam, one of those last days before the showdown in Stull Cemetery. In the picture, you and Sam were facing each other, holding hands against the backdrop of the setting sun. He had just told you he loved you. You ran your fingers over the glass and remembered how happy you were that day, despite knowing you would be torn apart soon. You closed your eyes and blinked back the tears, replacing the picture frame on the dresser.

"Dean should be home shortly," Sam told you. You nodded, knowing your voice would betray you if you tried to give him a verbal response. Not wanting to prolong an already awkward situation, Sam turned to leave. "It's good to be working together again. Even if it is only this one case. Thank you," he declared softly then left.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You put your bag on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. So many memories in here, you thought as you closed your eyes. Nights with Sam's arms wrapped around you, comforting you after a nightmare. Stolen kisses as you got dressed for a hunt or to go out for the evening. Long talks that stretched into the wee hours of the morning.

Maybe you were a bit hasty in leaving that night. How would things have been different if you had stayed behind and worked through the problem? Could you have worked past it and been better together, once you figured out why Sam was acting that way?

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn't hear Dean enter your room until he tapped on your shoulder. Your eyes snapped open as you leapt up off the bed and brought your fists up into a fighting stance. "Whoa, whoa, it's just me," Dean said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Nice to know you still have your fighting instincts," he smirked.

"Dean," you muttered as you rolled your eyes and lowered your fists.

"Let's go, I brought home food," Dean said. You gave him a skeptical glance. "C'mon, I got Chinese food from your favorite place in town," Dean teased.

You sniffed the air. "Did you get....egg rolls?" you asked cautiously.

"Of course I did! Let's go, you don't want them to get cold, do you?" he remarked, waiting by the door for you.

"Oh, all right! I'm coming," you grumbled as you stuffed your phone into your pocket. Dean held out his elbow, so you linked yours with his and headed for the kitchen. Sam was fixing himself a plate when you came in with Dean. It hurt Sam a bit to see you be so guarded with him, yet so friendly and at ease with Dean. Dean said to take it slow with her, so I'm going to take it slow. I can't lose her again, Sam said to himself.

During dinner, the three of you discussed the case. Somewhere in the middle, Castiel popped in and mentioned how happy he was to see you. You gave Cas a hug, then you resumed your discussion about the case. The research seemed to have narrowed it down to being a demon, but with a twist.

"So, it may be a demon, but what about these symbols?" you asked.

A few clacks on the keyboard later, and the information appeared. "Looks like they correspond to a love gone wrong, so motive for revenge. Cases of unrequited love, falling out of love, infidelity," Sam explained. Great, he thought, inwardly groaning. I'll never get her back now, once she starts thinking about what happened before. "This demon is taking requests from jilted and scorned lovers in exchange for souls," he finished.

"There has to be a way to 'power down' these sigils, enough that we can take out the demon," you remarked. You were determined to find something to help your case, so you kept looking through book after book.

After another hour or so, your eyes started to get heavy with sleep. The day had been emotionally draining. Seeing Sam again, sitting at the same dinner table with him, working on the same case. You rested your arm on the lore book and placed your head in the crook of your arm. Finally, your eyelids drooped closed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam looked up from his laptop and saw that you were down for the count. He chuckled a bit and took this opportunity to study you while you slept. Your hair was longer than he remembered, but he told himself that it was probably just as soft as ever. He thought your eyes had lost a little of their sparkle, but that could be due to the situation of working with him again. He longed to see your smile that warmed his heart and to hear your laughter again.

A glance at his watch told him it was time to go to bed, so he got up from the table and crossed over to your chair. He nudged your elbow, trying to get you to wake up enough to walk back to your room. When that didn't work, he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. You jerked awake and looked up at Sam with a dreamy look in your eyes from being half-asleep. After stretching, you got up from your chair, but stumbled a bit from standing too quickly.

"Whoa there. Not so fast, I've got you," Sam said gently, taking your arm to steady you. He waited until he thought you were stabilized and guided you to your room. "Thank you, Sam. See you in the morning," you replied before softly closing the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"No....Get away from her....Stop....NOOOOO!" someone yelled, yanking you out of your deep slumber. You crept out of your room and headed in the direction of the noise. The mumbling seemed to get louder until you noticed that you were standing in front of Sam's door.

You quietly opened the door, only to see him thrashing about on his bed, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Sam continued to mumble, caught up in the middle of his nightmare. "Baby....oh baby, stay with me....gonna be okay....don't....no, don't close your....oh God, I've lost her, Dean," Sam was saying as silent tears slid down your face. You knew his nightmare was about losing you.

You took a washcloth from his cabinet and ran it under some cold water with one hand as you wiped your tears with the other. You sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and placed the washcloth across his forehead. This seemed to calm him down, but then his eyes flew open.

"Shh, shh, relax. It's just me," you soothed as you lay a hand on his arm.

Sam breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Sam replied.

"It's okay, I was just drifting off to sleep again," you lied. "Anyway, I probably should be getting back to my room. If there's anything you need--" you started.

"Will you please stay with me?" Sam blurted out. So much for taking it slow, he thought as he mentally kicked himself.

You slowly shook your head. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Sam," you replied.

"Please? I know that it's a lot to ask, especially after such a long time and it's your first night back here. I just....I don't think I can get to sleep without falling right back into that same nightmare," he explained. The one where I lose you forever, he silently added.

Against your better judgement, you relented. "All right. Just until you fall asleep, then I'm going back to my room. Deal?" you asked, holding out your hand for him to shake.

"Deal," Sam agreed quickly and engulfed your smaller hand in his for the handshake to seal the agreement. His hand felt warm and gentle, then he turned your hand over and brushed his lips across the back of it.

"O-okay, time for sleep, Sam," you stammered as you climbed in under the covers. You turned on your side so you were facing him. Part of you wanted so badly to forget about what happened before and just melt into his arms. The other part of you was trying desperately to guard your heart from being hurt again.

Sam raised himself up on one elbow and gazed into your eyes. He brought his hand up to caress your cheek. "So beautiful....I was such an idiot to let you go, soul or not. I'm so sorry, Baby. These last few months have been absolutely empty without you. And I'm not just talking about in this room, either, because I've missed you everywhere."

"Sam, please," you pleaded, your resolve crumbling more and more with each passing second.

His face moved closer to you until his lips were a fraction of an inch from yours. "'Please' what, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Please kiss me," you whispered.

A soft grin crossed his face. "As you wish, my love," he whispered back, capturing your lips with his own. Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him ever closer. Your mouths continued to move in sync with each other. Then Sam's lips left yours and traced a path of feather-light kisses along your neck. "Oh, Sam....," you moaned softly. Wherever Sam touched you, whether with his hands or his mouth, it felt like you were on fire.

Suddenly Sam rolled over, taking you with him and shifting so that you were hovering above, straddling him. He locked eyes with you and reached for your hands that were resting on his chest. "I want to give you the power of saying how far this goes. When you say stop, we'll stop."

You leaned down and slowly kissed Sam, nipping gently at his bottom lip. "I don't want to stop, Sam," you whispered. Sam sat up, still with you in his lap, and deepened the kiss with his arms around you. You broke apart long enough to pull your shirt up over your head, then Sam returned his attention to kissing you. He nipped and sucked a bit at the skin on your collarbone, leaving his mark.

What followed was a journey of rediscovery for you and Sam. Your bodies moved together as one, giving and taking pleasure in each other. Passion flowed easily between you, breaths coming quicker as you both chased your release. Finally, you reached your peaks together, holding each other as your breathing slowly returned to normal. Eventually, you fell asleep in each others' arms, both fully satisfied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you awoke to find Sam was still asleep, a contented smile on his lips. You gently turned over and extracted yourself from his embrace. You wandered into the shower and then got dressed for the day. Both boys were still sleeping, so you decided to start on breakfast. You figured that the smell of frying bacon would be enough to wake up at least one of them.

As you prepared the morning meal, your thoughts drifted back to the events of last night. You hadn't meant to spend the night sleeping in Sam's bed. Never mind what else occurred while you were in it. You had to admit to yourself that you didn't regret what happened. At the same time, though, you didn't know if you were ready to commit to moving back to the bunker.

Suddenly, you felt two large arms wrap around you from behind, and someone nuzzling your neck. "Good morning, my love," Sam murmured against your skin. "Good morning," you replied with a grin, turning around in his embrace to kiss him.

Sam wandered over to the coffee pot, measured the coffee grounds and then poured the water to start the brew. "So, I was wondering," Sam started. "When this case is over, what are you going to do?" he asked.

You paused in your breakfast preparations to give his question careful thought. "Are you asking if I'm going to move back into the bunker?" you answered.

Sam nodded in response then turned to face you. "I know the reason why you left, and I know I can't apologize enough for that. But I also know that having you back here is....so right. This place feels alive again, and it's because you're here. Your smile, your laughter, you. It will be all empty again if you leave."

You knew this subject was going to come up sooner or later, especially after last night. "I don't know, Sam. There's a lot for me to think--" he cut you off.

"Why?" he asked in a flash of anger. "Do you know what I ask Dean every time he comes back from having dinner with you? I ask him, 'Is she coming home?' Every time, he says no. But this time, he had a different answer. And even though he said it's only for this one case, my heart felt free again.

"After Dean told me that, I promised myself that I wasn't ever going to let you slip through my fingers again. I love you. I want to be with you more than anything. But if you feel differently...." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm going to go shower. Maybe after that we can talk about this," he muttered as he left the kitchen.

A voice from the doorway asked, "Why can't you answer him? Seems like after what I heard last night, you should be racing back to your place to get the rest of your stuff. You can't toy with him like this. You have to decide what's more important: holding on to the hurt from past mistakes, or embracing the love Sam obviously still has for you. Think about it," Dean remarked, also leaving the kitchen area.

You stood there for a few minutes, absorbing what both brothers had said to you. You turned off the burners on the stove and walked out the bunker door to get some fresh air. You had to admit, they were both right. You decided to make that leap to forgive Sam and move forward with him. Because you love him. You never stopped loving him. Now you had to find him and tell him.

As you turned to go back into the bunker, you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. You took two, maybe three steps towards it to investigate. Then you felt a sharp blow to the back of your head and your vision got a bit blurry. The last thing you heard before blacking out was, "Well, lookee what we have here. It's the younger Winchester's woman. You'll make an excellent hostage to bring those boys running to rescue you," the demon taunted. "Sam......" you said weakly before succumbing to the darkness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam walked to the library after his shower and asked Dean if he'd seen you. Dean thought for a minute. "Now that I think about it, I left the kitchen shortly after you did, and she was still in there. Otherwise, I don't know where she is," he replied.

"I need to find her, Dean. We didn't finish our discussion from earlier," Sam explained. Suddenly he felt a burst of fresh air coming from the bunker door. "Did you go out and not close the door all the way?" he asked.

At that moment, Castiel popped in to say that you had been taken by the very demon you all were tracking for the case. "I saw her come out of the bunker door. She looked lost and a bit upset," he remarked.

"Yeah, Cas, she and I just had a little fight. I went off to take a shower--" Sam started.

"And I had some words for her too," Dean admitted.

"Dude, what did you say?" Sam demanded.

"I told her she couldn't toy with you, that she had to make a choice. She could either hold onto the hurt from before or move back into the bunker and be in love with you," he explained.

Suddenly, Sam's phone rang in his pocket, the caller ID showing your name. "Baby? Where are you, are you all right?" he fired off.

"She's fine....for now. Can't say she'll stay that way, though. Interesting creature. So strong, so beautiful. Would really hate for that to change," said the voice on the other end.

"You bastard, what do you want?" Sam growled.

"It's simple. You for her. You cheated on her all those months ago when you had no soul. She has the right to take revenge. Plus, you're a Winchester, which is an added bonus," the demon finished.

"Sam, don't do it!" you shouted on the other end. Sam's jaw tightened at the sound of a hand slapping you across the face for your outburst, then you fell silent.

"Do we have a deal?" the demon asked.

"Where and when?" Sam ground out.

"Tonight. Midnight. Old abandoned toy factory at the edge of town. And come alone, Sam, or things will get mighty unpleasant for your woman," the demon threatened then disconnected.

"So? What's the plan?" Dean asked.

"He wants just me to meet him tonight at the old abandoned toy factory, midnight," Sam replied. He told Dean and Cas that if he didn't go alone, the demon would hurt you some more, or do worse. "I can't take any chances, I have to go alone. I can't lose her again," Sam stated.

"And you won't, Sammy. Trust me," Dean assured him with a wink.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I don't think you truly understand what I'm offering here. I'm giving you a chance to get even with the one who broke your heart all those months ago, for a small price," the demon reasoned.

You remained silent, not wanting to give the demon any sign that he was getting to you. In your mind, you had already forgiven Sam and wanted to move forward in your future with him. You just hadn't had a chance to tell him that yet.

"Doesn't matter anyway. I have you as the perfect bait for the Winchesters. First, I'll take them out, then I'm afraid I'll have no further use for you, my dear," the demon taunted.

The sound of a gun being cocked echoed off of the concrete walls. "Let her go," a voice demanded. Sam, you thought with relief.

"Or what?" the demon said as he waved his hand. Sam flew through the air towards the opposite wall, where he was held by demonic powers. Another wave of his hand caused Sam to start having trouble breathing.

"All right! Stop! Let him go," you shouted. "If you want to take anyone, take me," you suggested.

"Baby....no....." Sam wheezed.

"I broke Sam's heart earlier when I couldn't answer his question about our relationship. So, if you're going to punish anyone....take me," you finished softly.

"Hmmm. Interesting idea," the demon mused.

"One thing though. You have to let Sam go free. Then you can do with me whatever you will," you replied.

"Done, my dear. Now, let's seal this with a--" the demon flashed orange and fell to the floor, dead. Dean yanked his knife out of the demon and you all breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam rushed over to you, carefully cradling your face in his hands. "Why would you do that? Sacrifice yourself for me?" he asked.

"Because I still love you, Sam. I never stopped. I'm so sorry about earlier, I know I belong at home with you in the bunker. That is, if you still want me there," you replied timidly.

Sam brought your face closer to his until your lips could meet in a fiery, passionate kiss. He reached up and brushed the hair from your forehead. "Of course I want you to come home. It's all I've wanted for so very long," he said. Sam gathered you in his arms and held you close against his chest. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, Sam. Let's go home," you said.

[fangirlingtodeath513]

“I’m bi.”

The first time Dean says those words out loud, it’s to a guy he’s trying to pick up at a gay bar. He’s 26 and John’s just sent him off on his first hunt, a fairly easy one by their standards, just a vengeful spirit. Dean had cracked the case and burned the bones the same day he’d arrived. John wasn’t due to call for a couple more days, so Dean took advantage. He’s in a fairly liberal town, as evidenced by the prominently-displayed gay club right on main street, so he’s not as uncomfortable doing this as he thought he’d be.

“Cool,” the guy replies with a smirk, head tilting toward the door. “Wanna get outta here?”

~

“I’m bi.”

The second time he says it, it’s to Sam. It’s ten years after the first time the words had left his mouth, and Sam doesn’t even look up from the book he’s reading, just purses his lips and nods.

“I know, Dean.”

Dean deflates, the tension in his body from the admission dissipating. “You... know?”

Sam finally looks up at him, brows pinched in obvious confusion. “Uh, yeah? You’re not exactly subtle about it, man, and the way you look at Cas?”

Dean splutters, taking a step back in an attempt to physically distance himself from the way the conversation’s turned. Sam frowns at him, closing the book in front of him. “Sorry, that was a pretty big thing for you, wasn’t it? You know I couldn’t care less, right? You’re still just my big brother.”

He can feel the heat creeping up from under his shirt collar, so he clears his throat and nods once. “Right, okay, well, good. Thanks.” Dean gives him a tight smile and spins on his heel, heading toward his room.

“I do wish you and Cas would sort out the tension, though!” Sam shouts after him, and Dean could swear he hears a giggle before he slams his bedroom door shut.

~

“I’m bi.”

The third time he says it is two years later, this time to Cas, who’s still cradling the mixtape Dean handed him in his palms. He hadn’t meant to say it. He’d mostly assumed he’d give Cas the mixtape and then everything would go back to normal. Cas wouldn’t get the emotion behind a mixtape anyway.

It hadn’t quite worked out like that. Dean had handed him the mixtape with a shy smile and Cas had stared at him like Dean had hung the moon or something. That made him second-guess the whole ‘Cas won’t know the significance’ thing. His soft, reverent, “thank you, Dean,” in response had sealed that for him.

He was gonna let it go, leave it at that. The words seemed to tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, though. Cas’s eyes lock on his face for a moment, head tilted to the side as if confused.

“Thank you,” Cas says after a moment, a soft smile directed toward Dean.

“For… what?” Dean asks, brows pinched.

“Telling me. I know sexuality is an intensely personal thing for humans, and especially ones that didn’t grow up in an emotionally-accepting household, like you and Sam. I appreciate your trust in me.”

Flushing, Dean drops his chin to his chest and smiles. He’s so ridiculously gone on his sweetheart of a best friend that it’s not even funny.

~

The fourth time he says it is a year later, when they’ve finally gotten rid of Michael for good. That’s not what spurs the admission, though.

“God, I’m so bi,” Dean groans out, chasing Castiel’s lips as the angel pulls away. Cas grins at him so widely that Dean thinks he might go blind from how bright it is. In lieu of a response, Cas simply tangles a hand in Dean’s hair and pulls him into another kiss.

[naturallysuperbullshit]

S2 E19: Folsom Prison Blues

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Yeah sure let's add the prison industrial complex to the list of things Supernatural has decided to tackle without thinking it through

??? Is it customary to turn off the lights in an entire cell block before the guard returns to his desk? Thus making him walk back in the dark and just asking for a sprained ankle, at best?

The fuck is Randall looking at, the guard went around the corner

I know it's probably more just "I don't want to go to jail" but I like to think the actual reason why Sam doesn't like the plan to get arrested is because it makes them look sloppy and they have a reputation to maintain damnit

Hdhshdjd the Blue Steel

Henrickson! As a cop he can get fucked on principle, but as a character he is pretty great and I highly enjoy his dialogue

"Don't worry, Sam. I promise I won't trade you for smokes." snrk

It's not right how good Dean looks in that orange jumpsuit like goddamnit sir those ARMS

KDJSNDHJDHD THE LOOK ON SAM'S FACE WHEN HIS CELLMATE IS TALLER THAN HIM

"This is the dumbest, craziest thing we've ever done" wow and we're only in s2. Does Sam ever recant this assessment down the line? Or maybe not! Is there a conversation in the series finale where he says "I've been thinking.... I still think the prison job was the dumbest, craziest thing we ever did." "Sam, you jumped into Lucifer's cage with two pissed off archangels." "I said what I said."

If Deacon is John's friend from the Marines, how does he know about hunting??? Did John look up his old Marine buddy one time and be like "yeah so ghosts are real and I'm training my sons how to hunt and kill them, what's new with you"

"What if he was already cremated" if? IF???? YOU DIDNT CHECK FIRST????????

Hey the continual closeups on the ghosts weird eyes are VERY creepy. 5 stars.

Does the defence lawyer usually talk to the FBI agent who brought in their client about inconsistent details in the case??? Like i only took one law class so idk for sure but like I would think instead of trying to convince the agent - who has no power to release the boys anyways - that they aren't guilty, maybe she should just do her own investigating and find out how to work these inconsistences into her case

I'll give the show props for at least not shying away from the fact that prison guards are, as a whole, ruthless and willing to beat the prisoners to death over any excuse, but the fact that the boys' contact is a "good" prison guard is pretty bullshit esp because he apparently has the same behavior pattern as all the other guards when he's not helping the boys on a hunt (evidenced by the face that no one found it odd when he pulled his baton on Dean and later suckerpunched him)

How the fuck did Sam know which vent would get him to the old cell block tho

"My old man treated me and my brother like crap. Right up until the day he died." The universe is sending you a hint, Dean. John did the same fucking thing to you and Sam.

"How'd he die?" "My brother shot him." Jsjsjdjnsndjsn Tiny is just Dean in an AU where Sam did use the Colt on John at rhe end of s1

This poor lawyer is so confused kskdksks

"Your daddy raised you right" he absolutely did not

I still don't understand how a friend John made before he was even married to Mary knows about hunting

I assume Deacon brought the Impala to the prison but like surely it would be evidence???? How did he get it from the cops?????????

Lawyer Lady has great big brass ones for lying to Henrickson without any real reason to other than a gut feeling that Dean and Sam aren't murderers

"Folsom Prison Blues" final thoughts: I'm still as annoyed now as i was the first time i saw this episode that they named it after a Johnny Cash song and then didn't play the freaking song, or any other Johnny Cash song like.... come on. Rude.

This is a pretty middle-of-the-road ep for me. It's not great, it's not horrible, and honestly? Pretty forgettable. The only thing most people probably remember about this episode is the Blue Steel moment, and even then, they probably couldn't tell you it was specifically from this episode.

[thursdays-fallen-angel]

Peace-Weaver, Part 1

Happy birthday, @saltnhalo! I hope you like this, because it’s the best I have to offer. Congrats on being old, fren. <3

(King!Alpha!Cas, Prince!Omega!Dean; 7.3k)

AO3 Link

"Your majesty?”

Castiel hums, but doesn’t look up from his book. It’s not actually all that engaging, but it’s certainly easy to pretend that it is.

“Your majesty, are you even listening to me?”

The condescending tone that laces those words is what finally gets the king to look up, his eyes immediately locking on those of his advisor with a sharp glare. He had been listening, as a matter of fact—he heard every word of Metatron’s drabble about the tenuousness of his position, the need to marry sooner than later, the swelling rumors of a war being started against him by the kingdom to the north. He heard it all.

He just doesn’t care.

Except, that’s not quite true. Castiel cares about his position, and he cares about the safety of his kingdom, but he doesn’t care for the pitch Metatron is giving that, in essence, is a sly ruse designed to get the king to agree to marry his advisor’s daughter.

Metatron isn’t the first to try such a thing, nor will he be the last. He will also not be the last to fail.

Castiel may be an unmarried alpha king, but no matter how incompetent to rule the people of the land might think him, both in his kingdom and beyond it, he has no intentions of giving into the clever puppeteers trying to tie their strings to him. An alpha he may be, but no matter the reputation that precedes his gender, he is not going to be pliant. He is not going to let his lack of omega intelligence doom his kingdom, and his family’s legacy.

After all, the kingdom did not ask for their true leaders to be killed.

Castiel stands and tosses his now-closed book onto the desk. “You are dismissed, Metatron. I have a prior engagement; if you’ll excuse me.”

He ignores Metatron’s offended stuttering as he leaves the study, striding out of the room without a backwards glance. The guards posted at the door will ensure Metatron exits after him in a timely manner, even if his advisor somehow worked up the gall to make use of the king’s study for personal gain, the guards would prohibit him.

Metatron is a slimy beta who cannot be trusted, but the members of the guard are alpha through and through, and loyal to a fault. He will always be thankful for that.

That being said, it is remarkably easy for Castiel to get away from the guards’ ever-vigilant views and slip off into the woods on his horse, unseen. He left only a word with his stable master to let the message be passed along that he would return in a day or two, but doesn’t bother giving anyone any more than that. He doesn’t want to be followed, and he certainly doesn’t want to be criticized.

Even just the journey out through the woods does wonders to boost Castiel’s spirits, as it always does. The distance from the castle may not truly relieve him of his problems, but having the space to think, to breathe, more than makes it worth his effort.

He only wishes that he had something to think about other than his troubles, when he takes these sorts of breaks.

However, given the fact that everything Castiel ever knew came crumbling down when his parents died, he supposes a bit of stress over his fate is one of the better things he could have asked for.

Considering his parents’ importance, it was never much of a surprise that his world crumbled as completely as it did. Any time a kingdom loses its queen and king, there are bound to be repercussions, just as there have been every day of the year that has passed since that wretched shipwreck. There will always be desperate bids for power, in situations such as this one, will always be crimes against the crown even while that crown is shrouded in a mourning veil. And most importantly of all, there will always be attempts to exploit the heirs to the throne.

Or in Castiel’s case, heir. Singular.

He always knew his position was tenuous—as the lone, unwed child of Naomi and Cain Novak, his chances of exploitation were always particularly high. The kingdom of Eden may not be the largest, but it has a long history of wealth and strength, situated on land rich with resources and very nearly impenetrable, thanks to its mountainous border. The long, unbroken line of strong, omega rulers who have sat on the throne for more consecutive generations than any other royal family in the land has also attributed to Eden’s reputation, giving it an edge that has done a great deal to prevent people from taking advantage of the Novaks’ power.

Even before the shipwreck, it was widely considered to be a tragedy that the renowned Naomi Novak left only an alpha son as her heir.

The day Castiel had presented alpha had been one of the worst of his life. There had been complications with his birth which had left his mother unable to conceive more children after him, eliminating the possibility of younger siblings to help carry on the Novak line. Both of his parents had hoped he would present omega, had been sure that it would happen—he was so very similar to his mother, after all—but shortly before his fifteenth birthday, it became clear that he wasn’t similar enough to her. His genetics favored brawn over brain, as evidenced by the rut he fell into, and he had never seen his mother more disappointed in all his life. His lessons of regality and leadership fell to the wayside, and a sword was shoved into his hands the minute he was back on his feet.

That was the first time his world had crumbled.

Now, looking back, he isn’t sure which instance is worse. Naomi’s disappointment in him was always a sore point, and their relationship never quite recovered, but at least she was there. She and his father both.

Castiel constantly spends his time wishing that things were different. He’d been too shell-shocked for the first week or so after the news reached him that his parents’ ship never reached its destination across the sea to properly react, but when the day came for his coronation—a rushed, harried affair, put together only once the reality of Naomi and Cain’s death became unavoidable and unease over a lack of proper ruler began to fester—it hit him in full. When the head priest lowered Cain’s former crown onto Castiel’s head at the end of the ceremony, he was overwhelmed with dread, instead of the pride that his mother always spoke of.

He wished he could have been the omega his mother wanted. He wished she hadn’t died while still dissatisfied with him. He wished that her last living thought couldn’t have possibly been regret over the inevitable end of her family’s legacy.

Castiel may be of age, a man grown, but without an omega at his side, without someone to wear Eden’s real crown, he doesn’t stand a chance. He was trained to be a fighter and made to expect to rear children while his future mate ran the kingdom; it was never expected that he would rule on his own, and his lack of education on the subject reflects that. What little teaching his parents drip-fed him before he presented covered the basics of the kingdom’s workings, but while that can keep him afloat, it won’t do so indefinitely.  

From the moment Castiel knelt in the church and rose as a king, the members of his newly-inherited court were ogling the dull silver of his alpha crown. For that very reason, he hardly wears the thing. It sits too heavily on his brow, draws all the wrong kind of eyes. It makes him look more like the stand-in that he is, instead of the ruler he should be.

It’s all so draining to think about.

And that, of course, is why he comes here—a hunting cabin commissioned by Cain when he first came to Eden, and one of the man’s best-kept secrets. It’s near the border, almost dangerously so, but it’s quiet, private, and utterly devoid of people who need to be impressed. When Castiel finally rides into the clearing, the site of the small house alone is enough to begin easing the tension that perpetually resides at his core.

Out here, there are no withering glares resentful of his crown, or greedy advisors angling to steal it for themselves. There is no need for him to hide parts of himself to fit the role he is expected to play because of his alpha designation.

He can be himself. And gods, does he love even that small freedom.

Castiel dismounts from his horse as soon as he has broken through the tree line, leaving the animal to wander for the time being, and makes his way up to the door of the familiar, stone cabin. Back at the castle, everything reminds him of his mother, but here? Everything about this place is Cain, from the overgrown garden situated between the cabin and the lake beyond, to the buzz of the bees the older alpha once regularly cared for, to the simplistic layout of the living space that awaits Castiel when he finally gets the cabin’s door open. He never spent much time here prior to his parents’ deaths, mostly only visiting when he was young and Naomi was too busy with her queenly duties for Castiel to even be near, but even still, the place feels like home in a way the empty castle never quite can.

He takes a few steps into the cabin and starts to disrobe—there’s no need for him to be wearing finery here at the cabin, as the silk of his tunic certainly is—but before he can even get his tunic halfway off, he hears a quick scuffle like that of footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of a closing door.

Castiel goes absolutely still. Even his breaths are silent as he listens, all of his senses straining as he attempts to pick out the cause of the sound or any indication of a repeat. When he hears nothing, he inhales deeply through his nose, then swears under his breath.

He hadn’t taken enough stock of the small cabin when he first entered, but doing so now, he cannot believe how much he failed to notice.

Someone else is already there.

There isn’t much to learn of the intruder from their residual scent alone, but it does provide just enough of a trail for Castiel to be able to find the person’s hiding place with ease. The bedroom door is closed; Castiel waits outside of it for only a moment before gently pushing it open. He’s still on high alert as he steps into the room. The intruder’s scent is more concentrated in here, though whether that’s because the source is nearby or because it’s woven into the sleep-rumpled bed, Castiel cannot yet determine.

He takes another cautious step into the room, and gets a dagger pressed to the underside of his jaw for his efforts.

“Make one wrong move and you’re dead,” a voice growls in his ear. “I don’t know what you were thinking, coming in here, but there’s nothing for you to gain, here.”

Castiel narrows his eyes, but despite the threat being levelled against him, he holds as still as he can. He isn’t in a mood to be murdered, even if he has a feeling he could put his training to use and overcome his attacker if need be. He isn’t so stupid as to underestimate a complete stranger.

He takes a breath, and his eyes go wide.

The man behind him is an omega.

Castiel tilts his chin up and slowly raises his hands in a show of innocence. “I bear you no ill-will. You are in my home; I didn’t know that you were here.”

“Your home?” the man repeats. “Fuck.” The dagger drops away from Castiel’s throat. “Fuck. Figures that you come back now, then. Just my luck.”

When the man withdraws, Castiel finally has the opportunity to turn and look at him. His breath nearly catches when he does; even for an omega, the stranger in his cabin is a beautiful one, with golden skin and bright, entrancing eyes. That isn’t, though, what truly gets the alpha’s attention.

“You’re hurt,” he says, rather dumbly. The omega is wearing a white undershirt bearing no coloring or affiliation to any house, but the plain white of the fabric makes the blood stain across his hip that much more obvious. Castiel raises his eyes back to the omega’s, and when he sees how guarded the man is, he doesn’t even have to think before offering, “There should be bandages here, if you will allow me to help you. A change of clothes, as well.”

The omega’s hand moves to hover over his wound, but even just from the way he doesn’t actually touch it, Castiel can tell that it’s serious. Without the defensive posture, too—though the omega is still clutching his dagger like a lifeline, and Castiel can’t quite blame him for that—it becomes obvious that he’s favoring his right leg over his left, and his weapon hand trembles.

“I’m in your home without permission, and yet you’d help me?” the omega asks. When Castiel nods, his eyes narrow and he asks, “Are you a noble?”

Castiel wets his lips. “Near enough. You may call me Cas.”

No one save his father has ever called him by the nickname, and he feels it’s appropriate to the location. Furthermore, though, it will help him to keep his identity to himself.

This strange omega does not need to know that the alpha whose home he invaded is the king of Eden. If he does not know on his own, then Castiel is not obligated to tell him, and would definitely prefer not to.

A few beats of silence pass between them before the omega nods. “Cas,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue, “alright. I would appreciate your help. You can call me Dean.”

“Dean.” It’s a simple name, not quite befitting of a man who is clearly anything but plain himself, but thankfully Castiel manages to stop himself from saying just that. He inclines his head in the direction from which he just came, toward the cabin’s main living space. “If you’d like to sit at the table, I’ll go get water from the lake, and find the bandages when I return. I’m not a healer by any means, but I’m sure I’ll be able to help in some way, at least.”

Although he still seems hesitant, Dean nods again. “Thank you.”

Castiel answers him with a small smile. He might not know this omega or even have any specific reason to need to help him, but he’s in Castiel’s land and needs help, and that is justification enough in the alpha’s mind. He leaves the bedroom, trusting Dean to follow him out to the aforementioned table. “Sit, and take your shirt off so that I can get a proper look at your wound. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He does not delay in fetching the water that he promised to get, but once he’s outside, Castiel certainly does not hurry, either. He carries a container from the house out to the lake and lets it fill with crisp, clear water, then slowly makes his way back up to the cabin. Only once he’s sure Dean has had the opportunity to leave if he so desires does Castiel go back inside.

Much to his surprise, Dean is sitting at the table with his shirt off.

It’s only when his shock at that fact has him stilling in place that Castiel realizes just how convinced he was that Dean was going to leave. He would have been sure of it.

Not that he’s complaining.

With his shirt removed, it’s easy to see just how hurt Dean is, and subsequently imagine how it must have happened. The cut in his side is deep and jagged—clearly the work of close-quarters situation with a sloppy opponent. Taken into consideration with the few other bruises littering Dean’s torso, and Castiel has no doubt that the omega was in a fight he wasn’t prepared for.

Castiel gets the rest of the materials he needs and then settles onto the stool next to the one Dean has already claimed, the bucket of water ready and waiting beside his foot. Dean holds himself stiffly, but aside from a minor, seemingly involuntary flinch when Castiel firsts touches a water-soaked strip of cloth to the torn flesh just below his ribs, he doesn’t object to the care he is being given. He simply grits his teeth and bears his way through it.

Castiel can’t help but be endeared by the silent show of strength.

He gets midway through bandaging the wound by the time Dean speaks.

“You always this nice to strangers, Cas?”

Castiel pauses and glances up at him. “Do you mean to harm me?”

Dean blinks. A crease forms at the center of his brow. “No.”

“And you came into this house because you needed a place to recover, did you not?”

“I did.”

Castiel smiles. “Then I don’t see why I shouldn’t be nice to you. You have done nothing wrong on my account. I came out here to escape the stress of my everyday life, and as far as I can see, this is distracting me just as well as gardening would.”

Dean doesn’t seem much less confused by that. “And… That’s your alpha scent I can smell, right?”

“Are you asking me if I am an alpha?” Castiel sits up straighter, an eyebrow arching as he considers that. He’s never had his secondary gender questioned. He’s never been around anyone who didn’t know, and who didn’t know what was intrinsically expected of him because of that. “Why do you not believe that I am?”

Dean stares at him for a moment longer, but ultimately shakes his head. “Nothing. Just—you mind finishing this up? I twisted my ankle up pretty good, so I think I’m gonna need your help with that next.”  

Castiel’s interest over the question of his gender has not subsided, but he has the good grace to let the subject pass. He nods as he returns to his task of wrapping the bandage around Dean’s middle, and finds another way to fill the air between them.

“What happened to you?” he asks, then for clarification when Dean merely blinks at him, “To lead you here, I mean. In this state. Considering the help I’m providing you, I believe a story is the least you can give me in return.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” The words are flat, but when Castiel glances up to make sure he hasn’t actually offended his houseguest by asking such a question, he finds the ghost of a smile curling the omega’s lips. It highlights his natural beauty. “I guess it is the least I can do, isn’t it. You drive a hard bargain, Cas.”

Castiel shrugs. He’s actually hoping in large part to learn who Dean is, where he came from, and he assumes that that will be easiest to glean by retracing the omega’s steps. He finishes with the main bandage and seals it off, then slides down onto the floor so that he can examine Dean’s ankle.

Dean makes an odd sound in the back of his throat, then pointedly clears it. Castiel’s gaze raises in time for him to see the omega wet his lips.

“I was, uh—on a trip. Long story short, I was fighting with my mom, and came to Eden a bit… hotheaded.”

Castiel runs his tongue along the front of his teeth. “Where are you from, if not Eden?”

From the way Dean hesitates, Castiel suspects he hadn’t meant to reveal his foreignness. He assesses the alpha knelt before him for a long moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, then seemingly comes to the conclusion that the truth is acceptable to share. Castiel can see the resolution of it in his eyes before he finally pulls Dean’s pant leg up to examine his (very swollen) ankle, an excuse for the king to keep his own reactions from being just as easily read.

“I’m from Campbell,” Dean confesses. Castiel forces himself to nod; he cannot be sure whether it is a good or bad thing that Dean is only from just across the border. The omega continues while Castiel prods at his ankle, “My point, though, was that I was hot-headed when I left, so I wasn’t on my guard. I was jumped by a group of bandits just as I got to Eden’s border. I held my own for a bit, took a few out, but in the end, I was too outnumbered. I wasn’t going to beat them all. I ran, lost them in the woods, and was just about to pass out from blood loss or exhaustion or both when I found your house. Walls, a roof, and a clean bed are probably the only reasons I survived.” Dean clears his throat, the sweet, vanilla undertone of his scent momentarily spiking in what Castiel thinks is embarrassment before he tacks on, “Thank you for that, by the way.”

For the span of a few heartbeats, Castiel is struck silent. There is so much information in that for him to process, and the density of it keeps him from finding his tongue right away. Dean being from Campbell doesn’t tell him much. He hasn’t had any contact with the ruling family since his coronation, and knows little about them besides. He has been too busy with local affairs since his parents’ deaths to have time for such extraneous knowledge.

It is, however, interesting to know that Dean was able to fight off even some of his attackers when he was ambushed. While it explains the wounds Dean took on, omegas don’t tend to be fighters.

Now Castiel really wants to know where Dean came from.

“You’re welcome,” he eventually says back to the other man. Then, before the opportunity to ask can escape him, “Why were you coming to Eden?”

“I was…” Dean pauses, his previous hesitation returning. Castiel is too occupied with applying a tight wrap to the omega’s swollen ankle to look up and assess him this time—and he’s too silently pleased by the lack of pain he seems to be causing to disrupt the flow they’ve fallen into—but a few seconds of patience pay off, and Dean answers him without prompting. “There’s rumor that King Lucifer asked Queen Mary for assistance in warring for control of Eden. I know someone in Eden who I think deserves to have warning of that, if it’s really going to happen.”

A war for Eden.

Castiel may not know Queen Mary, but he knows plenty about King Lucifer, and as such, he doesn’t doubt the truth of Dean’s statement for a second. It leaves his ears ringing, and his tongue feels like cotton in his mouth.

If Lucifer attacks on his own, Eden might stand a chance. Castiel may not be the omega ruler his people need, but one of the few things he was taught was an understanding of the ways of war. He is not a brilliant tactician by any means, but Eden’s army is strong and skilled, comprised of the fiercest of warriors. With the help of his few omega generals, Castiel could possibly manage to save his kingdom from being obliterated.

But if Campbell’s army joins forces with Lucifer’s, Eden’s fate will already be sealed. Even if Naomi and Cain were still alive, two full-strength armies marching against their borders would be a terrible omen.

Dean may not know it, but he’s just warned Castiel of his own imminent death.

“…Cas? Cas, are you okay?”

The king looks up. His thoughts feel jumbled, yet simultaneously hollowed. He can hardly get them in order, and he certainly has no idea how many attempts Dean has made to get his attention. He suspects this isn’t the first.

“What cause would Queen Mary have to unite with King Lucifer?” Castiel asks, circumventing Dean’s concern all together. Maybe the omega will have an answer for him, maybe he will not, but regardless, it’s something Castiel needs to figure out for the sake of his own survival. If he has merely offended Mary, or can offer her some type of payment in exchange for an allegiance between them—

“She and Lucifer are convinced that Eden’s king isn’t fit to rule,” Dean says, cutting the head off of Castiel’s budding hope with a single, swift blow. “You know how alphas are supposed to be, with their tempers and stubbornness. Everyone knows that Queen Naomi was pretty desperate to find him an omega to give him some credibility, but once she died, even a letter already sitting on M—” He stumbles briefly, cheeks dusting pink. “Queen Mary’s desk wasn’t enough to make anything happen.”

Another jolt runs through Castiel at that. He’s sure his mother wouldn’t have called his potential marriage a bid for ‘credibility’, but he absolutely believes that she would have been making efforts to find a successor worthy of her. He wishes she had discussed such a thing with him. He wonders where the omega prince of Campbell might have fallen on her list of candidates.

Dean continues, oblivious to just how thoroughly he is turning Castiel’s world on its head.

“But anyways. Especially without anyone lined up to mate with, the king of Eden is easy picking, as far as King Lucifer seems concerned. He’s pretty confident that he can win.”

“No one has ever taken Eden,” Castiel counters. Gods, he feels lightheaded. “The Novak family has held the throne for thousands of years—”

Dean shakes his head. He’s thought about this a lot, it seems. “The Novak family doesn’t have anyone wearing the omega crown for the first time in all those thousands of years. Now there’s two other omegas who want a piece, and who’ve sat at Eden’s border and watched the Novaks thrive for generations. This is as good a chance as they’re going to get.”

He’s right. Of course Dean is right. Not only does he have far more insight into the situation than Castiel can hope for in his own right, but he also doesn’t have anything at stake; it’s easy for him to be level-headed. It’s one of the things omegas are best at.

Castiel takes a deep breath to steady himself. He pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that the pleasantness of Dean’s scent makes it easier to manage; true as it may be, acknowledging it gets him nowhere, and he doesn’t have time to waste on the matter. Not with all that Dean has told him.

There’s one detail in particular which pricks at him, tugs at his focus until he’s brought fully back to attention. Dean’s ankle is long since wrapped by this point, so Castiel lets go of it and returns to the stool so that the two of them can be on an equal level as the king presses for more details.

“Your intention was to come to Eden to warn someone.” It’s a statement, not a question. Castiel leans forward, watching Dean intently. “Are you not fully in support of a sacking of Eden? What are the chances that there are others of your same mindset, and that Mary could be persuaded from joining Lucifer?”

Dean’s eyes slide away, which is far from encouraging. “I have… personal reasons for being against a war with Eden. Unfortunately, I think more people in Campbell would be for it than against it.”

“Personal reasons?”

“Uh, well.” Dean rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Long story short, my mom was an omega who mated with a beta, and people always gave them shit for it. They thought she should have been with an alpha, didn’t think he was good enough, all that. Guess you could say it made me sympathetic to the underdogs of the world.”

“And who is the underdog in this situation?” Castiel asks. The fact about Dean’s parentage is interesting, but he’s not positive on how it relates.

Until, that is, Dean explains, “Eden’s alpha king. The problem is that everyone is assuming he’s not good enough because he’s an alpha, and I can’t be convinced that that’s fair. Not after seeing all the shit my dad went through, especially.”

Oh.

Castiel curls his fingers into his palms to stop the slight tremor he can feel in his hands. Dean doesn’t know him, not really, and yet here he is, in Castiel’s cabin, expressing more faith in him than anyone ever has before. He has no idea how to cope with that.

He decides to ignore it. Best not to let Dean know that he is affected, as he excuses it to himself. His identity is best left concealed.

It would feel deceitful, to tell Dean now.

“Queen Mary may be willing to support Lucifer, then,” he says, getting their conversation back on-track. “Will all of Campbell back such a movement simply because Mary Campbell has something to gain from it?”

“Winchester,” Dean interjects, then explains when Castiel frowns, “Her name is Mary Winchester. She took her mate’s name. Her parents weren’t pleased, but she did.”

“Oh.” Castiel presses his lips together, feeling like a fool. How did his parents neglect to tell him that? It doesn’t bode well for his relationship with Queen Mary. “I suppose I’m not as well-versed in foreign policy as I could be. I had just assumed…”

Dean waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. The queen is stubborn, and has a tendency to do whatever the hell she wants. Plenty of people probably didn’t pay attention to what she did when she was young.”

“I suppose.”

“To answer your question, though, yeah.” The omega makes a vague gesture, hands spreading out helplessly. “If the queen announces that she’s going to join forces with Lucifer to sack Eden, her people aren’t going to object. People like me might be against it, but I’m not calling the shots.”

“Damnit.” Castiel pushes up to his feet, frustration quickly rising to dangerous levels. He begins pacing the length of the room as he things, the motion helping him to balance as he tries to think.

A war coming from the kingdom to the south, a likely allegiance between that kingdom and the one to the west; who is there left for Castiel to call for help? Eden dominates the westernmost coast of the continent. There is a small section of border to the northeast that he shares with another kingdom, but even knowing admittedly little about Queen Anna, he knows that she doesn’t have the resources to support Eden in a war. Middleton has the smallest army in the land, only equipped for the needs of the equally small kingdom. Calling for Anna would not provide Castiel with any aid.

His parents used to have a good relationship with King Crowley and Queen Meg, but he is on the opposite border, too far to call on a moment’s notice. Coming up from behind the Campbell—Winchester—army might be an advantage, but it might also be a curse. Crossing Campbell’s lands to reach that point wouldn’t be an easy start, Mary would likely be infuriated, and the army Crowley would lead would end up having to fight just to be able to reach the fight. The odds of it working out are slim to none.

The kingdom across the sea is more foreign to him than any other. Whoever may be in charge there may possibly be in a position to help, located geographically as they are, but what are the odds that someone so removed from this continent would put their resources on the line to help someone they hardly know? Even the Novak family name is not worth that much.

Which means that Castiel is alone in this. Eden has no allies.

If he weren’t an alpha, this wouldn’t have happened.

His pacing comes to an abrupt halt, and he digs his fingers into his hair. “I have to go. I need to get to the capitol, I need to tell—”

“Whoa whoa, hey!”

Dean is on his feet and placing his hands on Castiel’s shoulders in an instant, cutting the king off before he can finish his sentence. I need to tell my council. Dean grabs his attention, though, and his touch helps to calm the racing of Castiel’s heart. Omega steadiness, ever-reliable.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” Dean tells him, tone leaving no room for argument. “Night is falling, it’s too dark for you to get anywhere safely. And you need to calm down and think about this, okay? I know the thought of war coming to your kingdom is terrifying, but you need to be realistic right now.”

Now that it has been pointed out, Castiel notices that the light of the sun has faded significantly. Dean is right, unsurprisingly. It seems to be a talent of his. Castiel may be stressed, but pushing himself and his horse into a moonlit race back to the castle would be dangerous and stupid. Nothing will be changed if he waits until morning. He sighs, scrubs his palms across his face, then reluctantly nods. Where did the day go? How did it end like this?

He tries not to think about it any more. Problems for tomorrow.

“Yes. Yes, we can discuss this more in the morning. You need rest to heal. You can sleep in the bed.”

Dean shifts back a step, careful not to put too much weight on his twisted ankle, and frowns at Castiel. “Where will you sleep, then?”

The king answers him with a tight smile. “You’re injured, and my guest here. You can sleep in the bed. I will sleep elsewhere.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not your guest, I’m an intruder. You’ve already been better to me than you needed to be. And you said yourself that you came out here for a chance to relax. Now you’re telling me you’re going to sleep on the ground, too? Not gonna happen.”

There’s a hint of trademark omega steel in Dean’s eyes as he speaks, and it utterly captivates Castiel, to the degree that forming even a partial objection proves difficult. The king wets his lips. “I will not allow you to sleep on the ground, either.”

“Alright, fine.” Dean shrugs, then turns on his good foot and starts toward the bedroom. “Guess we’ll just have to share.”

That single sentence wipes Castiel’s mind clean. He doesn’t quite know what he expected to come from quarreling over their sleeping arrangements, but this certainly wasn’t it. He stands rooted in place until Dean reaches the bedroom door and turns back to him, an eyebrow raised. Thanks to the dimming light, not even the bandages around his middle could stop Dean from looking like a god made flesh.

“You coming?” Dean asks, and that’s all it takes for Castiel to overcome his trepidations and follow the omega into the bedroom.

For as strange as it should be, though, the actual process of climbing into bed with a man he doesn’t know is surprisingly easy. Dean maintains his existing state of partial undress, but while Castiel chooses to remove his outer tunic, he leaves his undershirt in place to ensure there is no indecency between them.

He is, after all, a gentleman.

They settle in without issue, quietly intimate despite having no intentions to be just that. Lying together in the dark simply has that power of influence.

It almost feels too intimate, though. On the other half of the bed, Dean seems tense, coiled like he’s ready to eject himself from the situation if it somehow advances in a way he doesn’t approve of. It won’t, of course—Castiel would never so much as think of trying something—but they are still strangers to one another, so Castiel cannot say he blames the omega.

Castiel is still a bit tense in his own right from his near freakout over the fate of his kingdom. As such, plucking a subject out of thin air to reset the mood and distract them both from the messes in their heads strikes him as the best course of action available to him. He lets the first thing in his mind fall from his lips, words spoken softly into the dark of the bedroom.

“What was it you were fighting with your mother about when you left home yesterday?”

He can’t see the omega’s reaction, but Castiel certainly hears the click of his throat when he swallows. “I didn’t think you caught that,” he comments.

Castiel lifts a shoulder in a shrug, the sheets rustling along with the movement. “I’m a good listener.”

“Yeah, good listener,” Dean shoots back, “I’m sure that’s it.” He pauses for another moment, then sighs, and turns sober. “We were having a disagreement. She wants something that I don’t want, and she refuses to even listen to me about it. She expects me to obey her like everyone else does, and I won’t. Not when it goes against everything I believe in. I don’t care how pissed off she might be about it, either. I don’t have to listen to her.”

There’s more venom laced into Dean’s words than Castiel would have expected, given how amicable everything exchanged between them—greeting notwithstanding—has been thus far. Castiel understands being passionate about certain subjects, as well, but considering specifically what it is that has Dean upset, whether he understands or not, the king has to frown.

“Is this something that is worth fighting with your mother over?”

The bed shakes as Dean rolls to face him. Castiel glances sideways at him, and holds still in the face of Dean’s glare. “It is, actually, yes. She’s being a selfish, controlling, bitch.”

Castiel winces at the harshness of that word. “You don’t think it could be worth hearing her out?” he tries. “This is something that is worth having a soured relationship? Would you feel the same if it became permanent?”

Dean is quiet for a long moment. “You… Think I should do what she wants?”

“I think not reconciling with your mother can be a terrible thing.”

There’s another length of silence, then the unmistakable shuffling of Dean rolling back onto his back. His previous tension does not return, so even if there is now something else weighing on Dean’s mind, Castiel cannot bring himself to regret it. His advice was genuine; he wouldn’t wish his own pains on anyone, let alone someone who seems as genuine and kind as Dean does.

Castiel settles himself in, readying himself to actually get to sleep. His thoughts are still churning, but that is not enough to stop himself from trying to relax.

It’s odd, sleeping in a bed with another person. Not bad, by any means, as the warmth from another body warms him to his core and the sound of Dean’s every breath is like a lullaby in the quiet of the room, but Castiel has not shared a bed with anyone since he was a boy, likely whenever he last shared this very bed with his father on one of their trips—and that, of course, was very different.

After a few minutes, long enough that Castiel had been certain that Dean had dropped off to sleep beside him, the omega sucks a breath in through his teeth, then speaks out into the silence.

“You really think I should make up with my mom, Cas?”

It’s not hard to understand why that subject has apparently stuck in Dean’s mind. Castiel lets the depth of the question sink in for a moment.

“I believe,” he begins slowly, carefully choosing his words, “that that depends on your relationship with her, and the relationship you want to have going forward. It is hard to say for sure without knowing what you are fighting about, but…” He shifts, adjusting the blanket that’s stretched over them both before confessing, “I lost my mother, and there were many issues between us that I regret never having the chance to resolve because of that. She was disappointed that I am an alpha, and I never even had the chance to take a mate to earn back some of her favor. Not that that would have fixed all of our problems, but it would have been something. As it is, there’s nothing I can do about the regrets I have, and that haunts me most of all. So my advice would be… Don’t let yourself be set up for any similar regrets. Nothing is worth that.”

Dean doesn’t respond to that right away. As the silence stretches on, Castiel begins to suspect he won’t get a reply at all, but just as the king is resigning himself to that fate, Dean lets out a quiet sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “I’ll talk to her when I get home. I’d rather not fight with her.” A beat passes, and he adds softly, “I’m sorry about your mom, Cas.”

The air leaves Castiel’s lungs all at once. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean hums, but when he curls in on himself to make himself more comfortable, Castiel knows that’s truly the end of the conversation. He listens to the steady rhythm of the omega’s, monitoring it as he drops off to sleep. Just before Castiel drops off to sleep, he swears he hears Dean say, “Night, Cas.”

He’s too far gone to respond in kind, but it warms him nonetheless.

When he wakes in the morning, Dean’s scent is wrapped around him, but the bedsheets beside him are long since cold. He doesn’t need to investigate any more than that to know that the omega is truly gone. He’s surprised that Dean stayed for as long as he did, after all, and logically, Castiel knows that his departure is probably for the best. As much as he might already enjoy Dean’s company, even just after a few hours, he doesn’t have the privilege of time to further appreciate it any further.

Wherever Dean is from, wherever he is returning to, he will be better off there. If war is to come to Eden. Dean is best to stay away, and to stay safe. Being involved with Castiel to any degree would only jeopardize that safety.

And that is something that Castiel does not need more time with Dean to recognize that he refuses to do.

He lies in bed for longer than he should, breathing in Dean’s lingering scent until it begins to fade. It provides him time to avoid thinking about his fate. Time to fantasize about what other courses his life could have taken.

He makes a pledge to himself, then and there.

If he wins the war, the first thing he will do is locate Dean. He’ll search all of Campbell if he has to, but no matter what, he won’t let Dean slip away from him completely.

Once his resolve has been made, Castiel sends a silent prayer up to the gods. If he is going to win—to survive—he is going to need the support of the entire pantheon.

He has a feeling that Dean will be worth the effort.

[orionsangel86]

12x09 - Episode Review - Too Much Heart Always Was His Problem.

Can I just say that as a staunch Cas girl this episode made me so happy. (I’m not a masochist promise) If you watched this episode thinking that Cas was getting a raw deal or that he was struggling or in pain then YES you are right! He was! But this is his story arc at play and in the first episode back of the second half of this season the showrunner decided that he would take front and centre stage. If you don’t believe me re-watch the episode, Castiel was its emotional centre.

I love Andrew Dabb for this reason. We have at least two Cas-centric episodes coming up and this was not supposed to be one of them, but of course how could he resist not focusing on his fave?

I will explain and get onto my review in a moment but I just wanted to emphasise this (and maybe also rub it in a bit in my own smug way against the Cas haters lol).

Anyway. Review under the cut...

Castiel (aka My Beautiful Angel of Humanity, Angel of Tears, Angel of my broken fucking heart and fictional love of my life)

Now as far as a standalone episode goes, the first 20 minutes bored me honestly, the last 20 minutes were awesome. It was rather unbalanced, with the only moments in the first half that really got me interested were Cas’s moments. I guess I’m just not a fan of government related stories or seeing the Winchesters stuck in one place not saying anything. But I enjoyed it overall. If it wasn’t for Misha basically owning that episode I wouldn’t have liked it because the escaped fugitive with the soldiers chasing after you thing just doesn’t do it for me, but Castiel getting a heavy emotional arc? Oh yeah. That does it. That hits the sweet spot.

This is an episode where Sam and Dean spend the majority of their screen time in cold defiant silence, before playing up their serial killer vibe as fugitives in their escape plan. Where Mary Winchester spends most of the episode seemingly going through the motions (anyone see major similarities with Buffy in season 6 *cue the singing*) and not exactly expressing herself in the best of ways, and where the remaining lead characters are the secret service men; one of whom only cares about getting info and the other who “wants them punished… wants to look Dean Winchester in the eye and wants him to feel it” and the British Men of Letters who, lets be honest, are a prime example of highly functioning sociopaths (to quote Sherlock) in smart suits with British accents. Castiel stands out because where every other characters primary motivations seems to be to help themselves (whether it be an escape plan, an ambition, a goal or just a distraction technique) Castiel spends his time only thinking of others. His selflessness and feelings of worthlessness have come right back to the front line and his struggle is evident throughout. It breaks my heart to watch him blame himself time and time again for things that were primarily out of his control. Of course this all escalates until Cas makes a decision that whilst still in line with his lack of self care, is very selfish in a way.

The episode was written this way purposely (as I will never believe that Dabb writes Cas moments without a very clear intent behind them). He has been framed as the heart of this episode, he wears his heart on his sleeve and it builds to the final moments where Cas ways up his choices and takes action against Billie. Once again, in true Dabb fashion, we are shown Castiel being brought down again and again (though this time by internal forces rather than the external forces of 11x10) until he makes a very rash decision based on the same principal as always with Castiel. To save a Winchester. What will the repercussions of this be? Billie said there could be consequences on a cosmic scale. I guess we will have to wait and see.

The initial argument with Mary, the conversation with Crowley, the failed vampire hunt, the phone call with Dean, asking for the help of the BMOL, the long drawn on moment where he watches the Winchesters reunite with emotion heavy on his face, finding out that they had dealt with their lives once again. All of these moments escalated in Cas’s mind to the point where he became fed up. He wasn’t going to lose the people he loves. His speech at the end had me in tears:

“You know this world? This sad, doomed little world. It needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get, and I won't let you die. I won't let any of you die. And I won't let you sacrifice yourselves, you mean too much to me. To everything. Yeah, you made a deal. A stupid deal, and I broke it. You're welcome.”

Oh Cas. In his own mind, this is his motivation in a nutshell. Once upon a time Cas may have been motivated by a desire to do good for the world. To ultimately be a force for good for all humanity but he hasn’t been that in a long time. His motivations have closed in and become very personal. His motivations are preserving the lives of the Winchesters. It is the only part of him that is remotely selfish, and it is entirely rooted in love.

I just hope that this story arc for him develops to the point where he begins to see his own worth, because whilst the world may need the Winchesters, the Winchesters need him. Therefore the world needs him too.

It just occurred to me that in writing this I failed to bring up this moment:

Which was lovingly giffed for me by the awesome @godshipsit (here) and in which Misha kills me with his acting skills because LOOK at the emotion on his face. He has got them back, he sees the boys embrace their mother, and he looks on with this look of... what would you say this look is? Because it certainly doesn’t look like a guy who is just happy to have his friends back. No. That looks like a guy who is witnessing something that he longs for himself. That he feels he is separated from. 

I swear to God if this season doesn’t at least end with a shot of the Winchesters all hugging and then Dean reaching an arm out and pulling Cas into that group hug I’m gonna be pissed. We need that now. After this look we definitely need it.

Mary Winchester

I said above that Mary is going through the motions, she is still struggling to fit in and even though she showed her desire to keep living at her last encounter with Billie, it is easy to tell that Mary is at a weak point at the moment. Like how Castiel is prone to make bad choices motivated by love, Mary is the same, and her offering up her own life was no different. It’s no wonder that Cas and Mary have been mirroring each other this season. They both put the brother’s lives in front of their own without much thought. I honestly thought for a while there at the end that she was gonna be killed off and I was prematurely so very angry at Dabb for that, but then I was rightly angry at Dabb for another reason anyway.

Her decision to work with the British Men of Letters will bite her in the ass of course, and for some reason the filming of it and the reveal that Mick was talking to Mary heavily reminded me of Sam’s conversation with Rowena at the end of 10x18. No good will come of this for any of them.

Sam and Dean

So I have admitted that the first 20 minutes of Winchester silent defiance bored me. Though I can appreciate the affect and filming style. If you wanna break a Winchester don’t torture them, put them in a small room and leave them there with nothing but their own thoughts for company. It will drive them crazy and they will do something drastic and stupid. I enjoyed the cabin scene and loved Sam’s “You’ll live” with the first aid box as well as his “we’re the guys who save the world”. Dean’s speech to Rick over the radio was scary. Dean definitely had his psychopath mask on “We’re not trapped out here with you, you’re trapped out here with us.” But ultimately, this all comes down to another stupid decision where a Winchester sacrifices himself to save the other. They didn’t specify which Winchester was gonna go, but lets be honest here, it was totally gonna be Dean. Dean would never let Sam give up his life for him. So Dean broke first and called Billie and offered his life to save his brother basically. Dabb is once again exploring this trend of Winchester co-dependency at its most toxic and portrays it once again as a negative thing (have I mentioned yet how much I love Dabb?) to the point where Cas calls them out on it. (I really loved Cas’ speech). Alas! I hear you cry! Will they ever learn? Well. Hopefully Dabb has a plan that includes the breakdown of the toxic co-dependency once and for all, as he continues to use it in his storylines as a bad thing and in no way romanticises it like it was in the early seasons. If this ties in with Castiel’s upcoming plot lines, this could get interesting.

I have to at least comment on the very few moments we got this episode where Dean seemed to show a hint of emotion underneath his cold exterior, because every moment (up until Mary offered herself up at least) was about Cas. The first being after the call with Cas when Sam asked “Are you gonna tell him?” to which he just answered “No”. This moment is telling because of what isn’t said. We don’t know at this point what Dean has done (because it is implied early on that it is indeed Dean who did this and instigated this escape) and the flat refusal to tell Cas isn’t because he doesn’t care about Cas at all, it’s the complete opposite, and this is evidenced later in the car scene. Dean’s refusal to tell Cas at that point how he escaped and cut him off quickly like he did was because it was too painful to even consider telling Cas that he was once again facing death. The second moment being when he first sees Cas in the woods before Sam hugs him, his face is of sheer relief and joy and yeah, when Cas goes in for the hug he smiles briefly but his attention is quickly focussed on Mary, which could be read negatively, and perhaps I am disappointed that we didn’t get more from that reunion (though we are being spoiled with Destiel hugs lately) but the kicker is when they are in the car. Once the car stutters to a halt and everyone looks around in confusion, Dean just turns and looks at Cas. We don’t see his face from the camera angle but my god that look is worth everything. Dean knows whats about to happen to him, he knows whats coming. That fleeting moment is Dean’s regret. Here:

Its everything unspoken between them. Its 6 months of complete isolation followed by only moments of reunion before this. It’s the pain and angst and heartbreak of Destiel summed up in 3 seconds of screen time. Its beautiful.

Other things

So the BMOL are interesting characters who you certainly wouldn’t trust with your life now. I do have some gripes about them though, and that is simply that I don’t get how this story started with a badass British woman taking down Sam Winchester and became two very generic looking white guys? Whats up with that? Why did they completely destroy Lady Toni’s character only to have her role be taken over by these two? Don’t get me wrong I am very intrigued by Mick and Ketch, but I miss Lady Toni (and by that I mean the Lady Toni from 11x23 and the summers fanfiction and NOT the Lady Toni from 12x01 and 12x02) Its irritating because surely Mick’s role could have just been her role?? But that’s my main issue. The other one is minor and more just a way of nursing any national pride I may have left after Brexit in that honestly we do not have two default settings of “extremely posh” and “Jason Statham style cockney” and we are not all evil sociopaths. I take a slight insult at the big bad this season being British People. Sorry America, but in the real world you guys are the ones with an evil villain running your country. We’re just going through a nasty divorce with Europe.

Crowley’s minor role was great. I enjoy his snark most of the time anyway but this line had me in stitches: “Sam and Dean, they're like herpes. Just when you think they're gone 'Hello' the boys are back leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. So wherever they are, whoever has Sam and Dean. In the immortal words of Lawrence Tureaud, 'I pity the fool.” Classic. I loved it.

I should at least thank Dabb for bringing Alesha back for a minor part. I’m glad her and her gorgeous brother are still living and doing their thing and really hope they make an appearance again.

I’m really upset about Billie’s death. She was an awesome character and I loved her take-no-bullshit attitude against the Winchester’s. I don’t think she deserved to die that way and I’m sad that Cas did it. Cas makes terrible choices when a Winchesters life is threatened. It’s sad but true. I hope that the only reason they killed her off was because of Lisa Berry’s commitments to Shadow Hunters rather than any desire to start killing off an awesome WOC character for the hell of it. This show needs more diversity. Another reason why I am clinging to the beautiful hunting twins.

My one other gripe was the lack of prayer. Where the hell were the prayers to Cas? Can he not hear prayers now? Or did the Winchesters once again suffer a major case of stupidity and forgetfulness in that they have an actual angel on their side who canonically hears prayers? What’s the deal? Someone ask Andrew Dabb to explain this because its gonna bother me as much as all his car stuff.

Aside from the minor gripes and death of Billie, it was a good episode (second half more than first) and Cas was amazing. As I’ve already said he was the heart of the episode and I need more like that where Cas’ emotions are a focal point. That speech… I just… in my watching notes I just typed “ahkgnrjagbrjhjrbrguragivbhf” as it seemed an accurate response for what I felt. We need more like that! Dammit Dabb don’t let us down!

Now I just need to get on and finish my actual Cas meta before the Cas episodes air as I still have so much to say about him and what I think Dabb is planning, but I’ll leave this here.